#⭒ ⋆･. ˳ . ⋆ ❤︎ ⭒ ⋆･. ˳ . ⋆ ❤︎ ⭒ ⋆･. ˳ . ⋆ ❤︎ ⭒ ⋆･. ˳ . ⋆ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

c1nnabunn1 · 1 day ago

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✦.── Rained In ── .✦

―⭑❥.ᐟ GENRE/WARNING: smut, eating out f!recieving, afab, f!xm, mean Sylus, porn w/little plot, rough sex, biting, choking, spanking, evol use, overstim, degradation, my brainrot ngl

―⭑❥.ᐟ SUMMARY: Being bound to Sylus by the evol linkage meant going places you didn't really wanna go, being stuck places you didn't really wanna be. You and Sylus got rained in while searching for documents to retrieve for his investigation.

―⭑❥.ᐟ WORD COUNT: 3.3K

―⭑❥.ᐟ A/N: For the life of me, I can not get main story Sylus out of my head. I like how mean and at time cold/dismissive he was towards MC in the storyline and I need to see it again, it's so fucking hot. Here's my take on "mean" Sylus. do apologize if the font is wacky, tumblr is being weird lol. I hope you enjoy

―⭑❥.ᐟ LINKS: AO3 Ver., Twitter, Taglist Sign-up

―⭑❥.ᐟ TAGLIST: @voidsylus, @noone-png, @imissnanami, @rafayelsplush, @kicupo, @rafayelschewtoy, @m00njinnie, @raylexdomination, @herasylie

You groaned loudly, Sylus mercilessly dragging you along despite your protests and futile attempts to twist free. ”The less fussing you do, the better.” He spat, voice sharp and unforgiving as his strides carried you towards the private cabin.

Visiting his remote hideaway was never on the agenda. Yet, here you were, swept up into the shadows of his investigation, unwillingly an accomplice bound to him by the damn evol linkage. The details of this investigation were his and his alone, so naturally, you ask yourself why it couldn’t be someone else, why it had to be you tethered to his wrist for a man who cared not to explain himself.

“Well, make it quick then, I don’t exactly wanna be stuck doing this shit with you.” Quick-witted, you were. Sylus found it rather intriguing, one of the small things that he didn’t find completely unbearable about this whole predicament.

You reached the cabin door, the beeping of the keypad chiming before the hinges released with a muted hiss. The place was…barren. “Kinda odd to come to a place you don’t use.”

Sylus ignored you, his silence heavier than words. He continued stalking forward, dragging you on his heel. He unlocked another door, an office. It was dark, as all his spaces tend to be. Bookshelves unattended and covered in dust, the fireplace cloaked in ash and spiderwebs, almost every corner of his office was drowned in neglect. The only sound in this eerie atmosphere was the click of Sylus’s polished heels against the floor.

“All these damn keys–” you muttered, thinking it was to yourself. A silent glare was thrown your direction, the kind meant to silence you. He effortlessly slotted the key into the keyhole, giving it a turn and hearing the lock click.

You were always one to challenge, but here…you fear you might actually get burned. “Ok, fine, I’ll stop. But can you at least tell me why we’re here? Ya know, besides ‘it’s for my investigation’ or whatever.” You mimicked his tone, mockery laced in your words. Sylus didn’t flinch. He rifled through the folders, his furrowed brows radiating irritation like heat. The storm outside began to gather, going unnoticed at first. A ghost of a wind, then the growl of thunder rolling through the forest.

“Can you at least te-”

“For the last time, no.” He hushed you, brows scrunching further as he turned another page in the file.

“I’m trying to help you, stop being so fucking stubborn.” You scoffed at his blatant ignorance and dismissal, yanking him sharply as you spun on your heel, not quite remembering the linkage in that moment.

He stumbled, paper scattering in the air. Lowly, he growled, snagging you by the shoulder and whipping you back around. “I need you, for one moment-” He paused and inhaled, carmine eyes piercing into your own whilst they contained a subtle flame of anger beneath them “-to stop being so fucking insufferable.” His breath fanned against your face. Your heart raced. Was it from anger? Frustration? Lust, you weren’t sure, but you need your distance now.

Pushing against his chest, he released his hold on your shoulder. “I don’t need your help. I didn’t even want you here.” His words were sharp, cut like steel and you couldn’t help but be upset.

You stared at him, bewildered. “Well, I didn’t wanna be here either. You think I’m helping you because I like you? I just want my life back.” Your words stung Sylus for reasons he wasn’t sure of.

Thunder split the sky, lightning flashing briefly as it illuminated the room. You both froze, drawn to the window. Outside, the storm had grown to be monstrous. Trees bending in the wind, branches torn from their roots.

“This has to be some kind of joke…” You muttered to yourself as your hand rested on the cold glass, feeling it rattle slightly from the aggressive weather outside.

Sylus sighs heavily, pinching his nose bridge in frustration. Another hour or so passed as the search for this file ensued. The evol linkage between you both dissipated at a point, allowing you to freely roam about.

He continued to scour the shelves, whilst you sat at his desk, fiddling with the chipping in the paintwork. At last, he unearthed the file, tucked behind a forgotten corner of one of the end bookshelves.

“I’ll have to talk to Luke and Kieran about their…concealment strategies.” he muttered to himself. The storm raged on, relentless and without mercy, nighttime pressing closely against the cabin walls.

While the evol linkage had dissolved, it meant little to you now as you were still trapped in the cabin with him.“Please tell me you have extra clothes here.”

Sylus scoffed, “Well of course I do. It’s my cabin. Why wouldn’t I?”

You sighed in relief, thinking you’d finally get the chance to change out of the uncomfortable hunter’s uniform. “Oh I never said anything about clothes for you.”

Your relief soured “Why would you-”

“You asked if I had extra clothes, not if I had extra clothes for you . Which I don’t. But you should be able to manage." His tone was flat and unbothered, not once did he turn in your direction.

You stormed off, slamming the bathroom door and twisting the lock. If nothing else, you could at least wash off the wear and tear of the day from your face and hope for a better tomorrow.

Your anger was now quelled after feeling the cool water hit your skin. But your irritation still simmered below your seemingly calm exterior.

Without so much as a word, you walked towards the bedroom and climbed into bed. Sylus heard the commotion and stared at you, brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend your audacity.

You didn’t care. You were tired , showerless, and completely over being rained in with Sylus. “And what do you think you’re doing in my bed?”

You offered him nothing in return, only the sounds of sheets rustling as you got more comfortable. He tore the covers sharply, all with intent to evict you. But you whipped around, snatching the blanket back with a stubborn fury and curling onto your side.

“Good. Fucking. Night.” You snapped, voice muffled by the pillow and sheets. Sylus rolled his eyes and sighed, too tired to argue with you any further, and pulled his own side of the sheets.

Time passed by, sleepless and tense. The storm raged on, pressing itself against the window, lightning casting momentary white scars across the dark expanse. You lay there rigid, staring at the dark corner of the room, hoping to be lulled to sleep.

Then you felt him shift. The mattress dipped and your breath hitched.

“Still awake I see.” His voice low, carrying his usual dry humor, perhaps it was sarcasm, you couldn’t tell. You refused to answer, feigning sleep.

“You know, playing coy isn’t going to get you anywhere.” His words served as bait, attempting to draw you back into his little game. “You spent the entire evening sulk-” Wham. Your pillow cracked against his face before he could finish.

“Do you ever stop talking? I’m tryna fucking sleep.” Your patience frayed thinner by the second. You lay back down, closing your eyes as you were met with nothing but blissful silence and the ambience of the thunderstorm outside.

It was a short lived bliss. In moments, your pillow was gone, blanket torn away. You shot up, refueled anger boiling in your veins.

“What are you doing?!” You shoved him hard, again and again. Words punctuated by force.

Sylus retaliated without hesitation. In mere seconds, Sylus was able to gather your wrists into one of his hands with startling swiftness. His weight pressed you into the mattress, expression a near snarl as his chest heaved.

Lightning flashed once more, flooding the room once more. That was when you noticed the bare skin. Sculpted, rigid muscle underneath, the simple grey sweats clinging low at his hips. Heat pooled in your stomach faster than you could process.

“Stop that.” Your eyes tore away from the lines of his body. Looking him in his eyes once more.

The air thickened, heavy like smoke, malleable even. It dawned on you then. The dangerous intimacy of your position. How recklessly your defiance had led you to this point.

Your face burned, breath shallow, the sound of his name slipping from your lips before you could hold it back, sounding more like a plea than a declaration. “Sylus–”

“Don’t say my name like that…” His eyes scanned your face, drifting lower and lingering at your throat, watching it bob as you swallowed. For a moment, Sylus almost let himself slip, nearly giving into the sweet could have been bliss.

He let out a guttural groan, tearing himself away, releasing your wrists before retreating to the other side of the bed.

You should have let him go. But your body spoke on your behalf as your hand shot out, seizing him by the arm. You tugged him back, heart hammering, and before your senses could stop you, your lips pressed against his.

At first, he was frozen, eyes wide, every nerve within him jolted awake. But then, with a rough exhale, his mouth crashed back into yours. The kiss was searing, his restraining shattering as he matched your urgency, overtaking it and consuming you with a heat so intense you could almost feel it burn.

Your hands snaked along his back, lacing in his hair as you gave the base a firm tug. He groaned into your mouth, biting your lip in retaliation. Perhaps you were both still fighting, however, this was a different battle to be won by other means.

He pulled your body flush against his, lips unable to leave yours. His body settled comfortably between your legs, crotch pressing firmly against your heat.

You let out a gasp, his desire undeniably present, rock hard and straining against the thin fabric of his sweats, forming a tent.

“Look at what you do to me.” His voice was low and gruff as he pressed himself firmly against you, head dipping down to your neck while his hips rolled slowly against yours.

His hands felt up your sides, searing and hot against your skin. Sylus’s movements were all-consuming, pulling you against him while he began to nip at the skin along your neck.

Teeth tugging hungrily, he left marks as he made his way down to your jugular, sucking on it briefly and ending at your collarbones. His kisses trailed down your stomach, each one more biting, more aggressive than the last.

His patience was dwindling with every inch. Your pants were snug against your body, hugging your thighs tightly. He undid the buttons, fingers hooking along the beltline whilst he swiftly pulled them off you.

He stripped you of your clothes, your body nearly bare beneath his gaze. His touch was insistent and demanding once he finally got a whiff of you.

It was like a spell, something that made his brain short circuit and his head burn hot. His grip on you was like steel.

Your mental fortitude was not enough to prepare you for the sensation of his tongue against your folds. Hips bucking whilst he holds you pinned down. “Ah~” sounds slipped from your mouth, serving as fuel to the fire that burned deep in the bit of his stomach.

He was hard. Cock leaking with precum and staining the front of his sweats whilst he continued to lap away at you. Drinking up everything you had to offer.

Your moans bounced off the walls of the room, his evol snaking up to pin your hands away, preventing your involuntary protests from disrupting his meal.

His hands gripped your thighs firmly, pulling you closer to his face, the rigid bump of his nose brushing hard against your clit, sending a spark of electricity down your spine. ”Sylus!”

You bucked into the air again, giving him a mouthful more than he was expecting. His hand came down sharply against the side of your thigh, the sting sending a jolt to your core. He smirked, feeling you squeeze around his tongue momentarily.

“Stop fucking squirming.” He murmured against your mound, words vibrating straight to your clit. The sounds of his voice was low, dangerous, and it made your body twitch helplessly.

Sylus’s thumb prodded at your entrance, both pulling the sensitive skin in opposite directions, leaving you more open and exposed to the mercy of his mouth.

You desperately wanted to grab onto something for leverage, for grounding. His tongue left your thoughts scattered, stripping you down to raw need.

His teeth caught on your swollen bud, rough and deliberate. You cried out at the sharp sting, swallowed instantly by pleasure. Gazing at him through we lashes, you find him buried in you, nose pressed firmly against the spot that would make you break.

His tongue lapped eagerly at you, fingers attempting to coax out your orgasm. Your body twisted and turned, the coil in the pit of your stomach winding tighter. His fingers pumped faster, the wet obscene sounds as he groaned into you, savoring the grip you had around him.

You craved your release, craved it so desperately you started to babble. “Let me cum, fuck–I’m so close.” teeth gritted and toes curling.

“Watch that mouth.” Sylus warned with a harsh bite to your clit. You yelped out, tears slipping past your eyes as you were quickly brought to your peak.

It washed over you in waves, all of this happening while your hips were nearly cemented to the bed by Sylus’s grip. He sucked you back into his mouth, intent more tender than the previous as you came down from your climax.

“Now that wasn’t too bad, was it?” Your chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, body shuddering slightly from the slight overstim you received from his mouth. “I still have a thing or two to teach you about manners.”

Sylus rose from between your thighs, skin damp with sweat and sweats ruined and strained from the hardness of his cock. He dragged himself out above his waistband, cool air kissing his flushed length as it twitched and settled heavy against your folds, smearing your previous release about.

He was thick, thicker than you braced for. The neatly trimmed hair rested above the base, framing the weight of him, an immodest display that had you aching with need and clenching around nothing as you begged silently for him to fill you.

“God just–put it in.” Your plea was broken and desperate, full of sting and need. He slid along the slick, rocking his hips in torturously slow passes.

“Manners.” He tutted, shaking his head with mock disappointment. The swollen head flicked against your clit teasingly, never entering you.

“... Please. ” Your words scraped out, desperate and agitated. Your body craved release and you were only mere inches away from it. He sent a glare your way, eyes piercing and seemingly glowing, serving as a disapproval and warning to you. “Please, Sylus.”

Voice soft and need. It was only then he slotted himself inside you, stretching you out with his girth. His size was enough to make your eyes roll back into your head and your jaw go slack.

He grunted, pushing each inch further inside until he was fully sheathed inside, your cunt squeezing him like a vice. “God…so-” He pulled out before slamming back in, his thrust accentuating his words “–tight.”

You cried out, when he slammed to the hilt. A guttural sound ripped from your throat. His hand pressed on the flat of your tummy, pushing down firmly as he drove in once more, groaning at the swell of his cock straining against his own palm through you.

Wanton moans spilled from your lips, each stroke coaxing a noise from within you. His thrusts grew sharper, more brutal, each wet slap of skin against skin filling the room. Your wrists stayed pinned above your head, helplessly as his fingers found your nipple, pinching and twisting till you arched below him.

His fingers grasped your nipples, turning and flicking them expertly while he split you open. “Spent all day mouthing off, acting like a fucking brat.” He scoffed, eyes filled with mockery as each thrust accentuated his words.

“Now look at you.” His hips snapped forward viciously, dragging a yelp from you. “Whining, drooling, it’s honestly pathetic.” His words cut like knives into your dignity, only fueling your desire rather than igniting your shame. You liked to see him angry. You liked it too much.

He watched your eyes go crossed and scoffed to himself in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’re actually enjoying this?” He pulled out and flipped you over, catching you off guard, and slammed back into you, all within the same breath.

A broken cry was torn from you throat as the weight of his body bore down on you, pinning your hips to the mattress and rutting into you with merciless precision.

Your moans were like leaves in the wind, caught in your throat as he hit your g-spot mercilessly. His hand wrapped around the back of your throat, pushing you further into the mattress while his other hand yanked your hips up.

His pelvis met your bottom harshly, the squelch of your coupling drowned out by the symphony of moans and grunts. His hand came down sharply on your ass, your scream muffled by the sheets below you.

He was merciless, but you loved it. Every filthy thing that spilled from his lips only seemed to wind the coil within you tighter, setting your nerves ablaze. You clenched around him like a vice, body betraying how much you adored the torment that ensued.

Sylus hissed through his teeth as the way you seized around him. His hands remained gripping your hip and neck, only easing his weight slightly to allow you room to speak.

“Beg for it.” He rasped, voice thick with command and dripping with lust. He wanted to watch you unravel. After being so difficult throughout his whole process, he wanted to watch you break and mold you to be more pliant.

Sylus was a composed man by nature, but something about indulging that unspoken thrill you carried for his harsher side made his stomach tighten with hunger.

He released your neck only to let his hand trail downwards, fingers brushing close to the place that made your whole body convulse. You lurched forward and moaned loudly, the sound being torn from your throat as he pressed on with his torment, pushing you to the brink of spilling over.

Your fists were tangled in the sheets, knuckles turning pale as you pleaded in broken cries, your words doing little to quell his need to see you come undone. “Sylus! Nghh~ m’close.” The sight of you unraveling below him, shredding away every last layer of composure, had his release drawing dangerously close.

His rhythm faltered, hips moving erratically as your climax seized you. You clamped down around him with a desperate force, body rigid as lightning split the sky outside, spilling briefly into the room. Eyes squeezed shut, you finally tumbled over the edge, a moan spilling from your lips till you were left gasping for air.

Sylus was right behind you, grunting low when he spilled himself into you, shuddering with each burst of cum he released inside you. His hips stuttered through the aftershocks till he couldn’t move, collapsing over you with a sigh. Heat and weat clung to you both, his breath fanning against your skin as the storm outside carried on raging.

At last, the tension that had burned and brewed between you both unraveled, spent in a gratifying manner.

“I’ll lend you some clothes after we shower.” He murmured low, voice unsteady as he pulled out with a sharp hiss that left him lingering for longer than intended.

mdni divider by @/cafekitsune

#lads #love and deepspace #lads fanfic #fanfic #lads smut #sylus smut #lads sylus #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #―⭑❤︎.ᐟ nebulawrites

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alyakhq · 3 days ago

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# DON’T YOU RUN ! ᯓ★

ᯓ★ SYNOPSIS: how the boys react when u run from their cock !

ᯓ★ PAIRINGS: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb x reader (separate)

ᯓ★ WARNINGS: overstim, rough sex, bondage, vibe usage, cervix fucking, hair pulling, size kink, dumbification, degradation, praise, mating press, doggy, riding, jealous sex, slight sub! rafayel, edging, squirting

ᯓ★ A/N: i went a little overboard for zayne …um sorry… i’m gonna be quiet as a mouse from now on FIRST LIKER @xtssy AGAIN??? GIRLLL

❤︎ XAVIER ! : who pulls you back so fast you didn’t even know you had moved in the first place.

a hand wrapped around the front of your throat, gently riding your head again, "i can’t believe it….you walked over to him, shaking my ass around, letting another man compliment and basically flirt with my wife. do you think that's okay?" you gasped, “no-fuck!" xavier thrusted deeper, his hands holding your body close to his hips. the inhumane pace he had built up was ruining you, your thighs shaking, trembling with overstimulation, "ahh!" as soon as your body moves from his dick, xavier’s hand went to your hair, running through the coils and pulling your head back, his face right by yours, “…you’re trying to rile me up, aren’t you?” his voice sent a shiver down your spine, a more lustful raspy undertone. xavier’s hand took yours in one, pinning them behind your back, ignoring your moans and apologises, “who told you to move?” xavier pinched your nipple, twisting it roughly, “you’re already getting punished and this is what you think of doing? are you so sensitive you can’t even stay still?”

bonus: his dick slowly moved out of your pussy. the clanking of metal was all you heard before there was tight but fluffy rings wrapped around your wrists. handcuffs. “…wha…what? xavier wait—please, i’m sorry! i won’t run again i—ack!”pressed against your clit was a thick vibrator, the buzzing stimulating your swollen bud with a high speed. the level’s increased the more you begged him to stop. xavier kissed his teeth, “if you had behaved, i wouldn’t have had to start this punishment all over again. stay still this time, or you’re not cumming for a month.”

❤︎ ZAYNE ! : who gives you one chance to redeem yourself — welp there it goes.

a whimper left your mouth, taking zayne wasn’t an easy job, your eyes going down to see his thickness slowly slid in more, “gahh!—“ “you can do it, you can do it." zayne encouraged you, looking down to see your hands flailing around.a hand went to your face, covering your mouth to keep back those lewd noises, damn it, he felt too good. that big cock splitting you in half with his slow but deep thrust. zayne was always one for prep and foreplay which is why you were still ok this part. honestly, if it wasn't for his size you'd have taken him already. zayne's hips thrusted once, not fully inside, yet you moaned like he was,"mmmhhh! ahh!!”. you backed up, shutting your legs in an attempt to push him out when your legs were held in a firm grip, zayne’s skilled hands under your knee, pushing your knees to your shoulder, a dirty moan leaving you mouth. folding in half, zayne placed his dick back in your hole, thrusting it all in one go, “maybe you just needed to be pinned down. i can’t have my naughty girl running can i?” you whined, feeling the tile of his cock react your sweet spot in one go, your body turning into mushy with every face and feel thrust , “you’re too big zayne!—ah!” zayne thrusted harder, groaning at every slam. creams of he headboard fired out to you two, nearly begging oh to stop before it breaks, “stop running.” a firm hand wrapped around your throat, turnign you gaze to those deep hazels, “don’t make it worse for yourself.”

bonus: however, zayne was observant, he caught on, releasing the sore skin from gour teet “if you want have something in this mouth, take my thumb.” zayne placed his thumb into your mouth, uour tongue instinctively wrapping around it, your warm mouth sucking his fingers. you moaned, eyes closing. already barely able to move, your hands pushed yourself away again, the big man above you let out a deep groan, his voice more powerful in your ear, “fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” two hands landed on your legs again, pushing them further up before he snapped his hips back into you again and again and again, “ahh! shit! fuck fuck fuck!”

❤︎ RAFAYEL ! : who does gently soothes you, well with the teasing of course.

bouncing on his cock, your hands went to his shoulders, "raf! raf-it's not gonna fit..!" you moaned pathetically, feeling that intense sensation of rafayel's cock right against your folds. his larger hands finding leverage on your hips, gentle holding you to ease those nerves. ”it will cutie, just-mhm, just open up for me..." rafayel panted, his hand quickly moving to his painful cock, lining it up with your wetness. your body sunk down on him, stopping after a while, rafayel hissed, “you're still so tight, didn't i open you up enough?" rafayel laughed before instantly groaning, his head lowered with a blush on his cheeks, "shit..." , your mind controlled your body, hands flying to his thighs and lifting your hips off of his dick, whimpering a soft, "wait-wait," rafayel acted quickly, “no—don’t run , you can take it, sit properly—there you gooo, take it slowly my pearl” his skilled hands helped your pussy open, his index and middle finger gently rubbing your clit. with every cry of his name, rafayel kissed your face, “…shhh, you did it, see?“

bonus: rafayel actually can’t handle what comes after, after you gain control once again. your hips slamming down on his dick so fast, his hands slightly lit with his evol, burning a hole in his own mattress before apologising, “sorry—sorry master! just—aahh! why so r-rough? i was so nice when y-you…ohhh!” you didn’t even know what he was saying, focusing on making him cum so hard, his mind went dumb. “cum for me rafa—please!” you whined, rafayel’s head flying back, his purple locks of hair sticking to his forehead, “cumming! take it— take it all baby, i’m gonna make you a mommy hmm…gonna m-marry you again and again…shit!”

❤︎ SYLUS ! : who stops completely, i mean you can’t take it so just stop.

the two of you were in an elevator, your back against the wall and sylus pressed against you, your legs up onto his shoulders and his cock resting just far enough to make you squirm. the position was hard, you could barely move, “sylus pleasee…! you’re so deeepp….i can’t take it! i cant!! sylus smirked, his hips slamming back into your tight cunt with a harsh snap, “you can, you’ve done it multiple times.” his hips were moving at a brutal pace, his dick reaching your sweet spot, your body squirmed recklessly before pushing his shoulder back, “no no! i can’t take it! you’re too b-big—“ you whined, throwing your head back. “fine.” sylus’s hips stopped, his hands going to your waist, pulling you off him with a wet kiss, “if you can’t take it, i won’t force you.” damn it damn it!! that’s not how you wanted this to go! “no!! wait!!” your hands went to his face, hiding your head in his shoulder, “i’m sorry, i was—i didn’t mean it! i can take it now! no!” …… “sylus please!”

bonus: sylus seriously didn’t move until a good ten minute later. your lips gently kissed his neck, hands ruffling his hair, feeling that stupid smirk on your head when he turned his head, “…please…i’m sorry…i can’t…” your hips tried to get his cock back into your pussy, the position making you fail pathetically, “sylus…” tears came to your eyes, and that’s when he folded, your soft whines and cries after the first tear fell made him chuckle, “okay okay sweetie, don’t cry.” he moved his cock out of you completely before thrusting it back into your cunt, the wet slaps filling you ears, that’s sensation finally coming back, “yes! ahhh! yes!!!” mewls left your mouth, sylus kissing your tears away with a gentle lick, “mhm, what do you say?” you screamed, “thank you thank you!”

❤︎ CALEB ! : who does the same thing back, muriel times.

on his desk, your bare ass agaisnt the polished wood, your trousers down to the floor — laying there like a reminder that your privileges were gone. caleb’s large frame in between your legs, his large cock sitting on your pussy, sliding it inside slowly, “you’re so wet, is this what you do when i’m not at home? fantasise about me fucking you whilst playing with this pussy ik my office? naughty girl.” caleb cooed in your ear before shoving his cock in full, “ah!! ooh! slow!” your hands pushed his hips away, your body shuffling back against the desk: caleb laughed as a response, then a man invincible force pulled you back to the edge, his cock fullling in you again…..however, time went, you were on the verge of cumming with the way his hips were slamming into you, “fuck fuck fuck!! caleb i’m—i’m gonna!—“ just when that knot in your stomach was about to snap, caleb pulled himself away, his cock leaving your pussy empty. feelikg betrayed, you glared at him, “no! no please! why?! i was gonna—“ “oops sorry, i forgot that i needed to go slow on you pipsqueak.”

bonus: caleb edges you like you’ve gone a crime. “caleb please….i was right there!! you’re being mean…” hitting his shoulder, your whines followed after. caleb stared into your eyes, his lips meeting yours in a heavy kiss, his tongue fighting against yours with every second — to which you let him take it. in the midst of your passionate kissing, his hips moved again….slow but deep, his tip teasing your sweet spot every few thrusts, his pace picking in speed. however, your moans were restricted, “mmmm!—cale—mmhmb hmmn!” his kiss deepened, a hand coming to your hair and pulling back. your lips pulled apart, “aahh! imm gonna cum!—please can i caleb can i come please?” his head nodded, lowering down to your chest and sucking on your nipple. “cumming!! c-cumming leb!” your slick sprayed against his lower stomach, coating his cock with enough cum to make it look like he came too. “fuck—“ just with that, caleb came after, the sensation of your squirt making his cock twitch, “mhm…good girl.”

@ alyakhq, do not plagiarise, copy or translate my work pls :)

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xifere · 2 days ago

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Forcing Shin to stay quiet in the employees-only backroom with a full house right outside — customers piling into Sakamoto's store for an impossible-to-ignore discount. He's got everything on the line and yet he still chooses to let you stuff him full, trashing about as quietly as he could. And he's failing at it. Badly.

It's not like they can tell. Embarrassingly so.

His high-pitched whines sound way too girly for the typical fella attending the front for them to realize it's him.

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH IVE BEEN THINKING OF THIS.

Why did he let it get to this point?!

He wants to blame it all on you. If it wasn’t for his fucking mind reading ability, he wouldn’t be in this dilemma in the first place. He was just trying to mind the busy store, living up to the Sakamoto ideals, but you just had to be on break, your very lewd thoughts polluting his brain. Shin couldn’t focus on the customers in front of him, stammering with voice cracks every time you thought of fucking him slowly in the break room.

Sakamoto even though he was sick with how flushed his face was, so he had to take a break, just to calm down. It was also a chance to tell you to chill the fuck out!

So why was he here, with unbuckled jeans pulled down to his ankles and your hands guiding his cute ass down your cock as he tries to muffle his moans with his hands? Oh, I don’t know, but he was so ready for you when he walked in, stumbling over his words as he tried to hide just how horny hearing your thoughts made him.

“Should I stop thinking about seeing you like this?”

“hnngh… [name]—! Just think about where we are for five—mmpfh!”

Yes. The answer was yes. But he could barely get a coherent sentence out since your dick was stretching him out so nicely, his insides warm and slippery—where did you get the lube from?!

“I know where we are, but I’m not sure you do, Shin…”

“That’s because—oh fuck—ughh…” he wanted t say something, he really did, but your hands were gripping his hips, maneuvering them to glide up and down your length without any consideration to his concerns.

You managed to be quiet, the sound of his ass cheeks hitting your pelvis silenced from of your excruciatingly slow pace, and because of it shin could feel every inch of your cock sinking deeper. But he wanted to act like he wasn’t sucking you back in every time you lifted him up, right?

“Haaah, fuck… [name] please—!”

“Please what, pretty?”

You weren’t fast enough. “We need… to stop—mmm… the customers…”

“‘S that so?”

The soft hum of customers were right outside, and you were sure Shin could hear every single one of them in his head.

“Why don’t you just forget about them then?”

You didn’t think they’d be able to hear you, but he wouldn’t be able to tell. And just as he opened his mouth to protest, the poor baby whined so loud when your tip hit his prostrate without warning.

Was that my imagination?

Did no one else hear that?

Sounded like a girl…

How the hell was he going to tell you to stop!? They just fucking heard him!

“Ahhn, [name]… I can’t…”

“You better keep your voice down, Shin. I can’t control how loud you are…”

Oh, you are just fucking evil.

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himelaces · 2 days ago

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セックス ❤︎ favourite sex position of the jjk men.

. . includes — gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna, choso kamo, shiu kong ꒰ᥩྀི .ܸ .ܸ ꒱ ♡︎

gojo satoru likes it simple — fucking you in missionary. he just loves to see the way your face contorts in pleasure when he hits that sweet spot in you, driving his hips as deep as he can into you. he genuinely feels like he goes insane when you wrap your legs 'round his torso and pull him in closer, nails digging into his back. that just makes him thrust harder into you, drinking in your pretty face and adorable moans as his balls slap against your core.

geto suguru loves doing it prone bone. feeling the plush of your ass hitting his pelvis and how his cock can be buried deep inside of you and hit spots that no other position, it drives him wild. he hasn't admitted this but he loves to put you in a headlock as he pounds you from behind, bringing your head close to his lips as he whispers praise in that sultry voice of his, making your pussy flutter.

nanami kento sees sex as something so intimate and he wants it to be known each time. he loves to have you as close as he possibly can, and he loves it when you're in the lazy cowgirl position — where you're on top, body flush against his as he drills his lengthy dick into your syrupy cunt. he loves the feeling of your body on his, your warm and soft skin kissing his own as he thrusts up into you. having you so close means he gets to hear your cute and pretty whimpers right by his ears and that just makes his dick throb inside of you, vision turning white and mind only thinking of you.

toji fushiguro is a filthy man and so, his favourite position is doggy. there's this primal feeling that rises in him as he drills his fat cock from behind, seeing the way your ass jiggles with each harsh thrust and the way your body writhes in pleasure. he loves seeing the way your nails dig into the sheets, doing your best to keep some semblance of composure as he continues his dogged pace. sometimes, he likes to push your head down into the pillows and revels in the way you drool and the broken moans you let — that really tips him over the edge.

ryomen sukuna goes ape-shit crazy when he has you in a mating press. he loves to push your legs as close as he can to your chest, just to see how much you can take. and when he gets to shove his thick cock into you, his eyes grow dark and hungry, seeing the way your back arches off the bed and the way you choke out his name as he mercilessly pounds into your pussy. in this position, he feels like he's the one in control and that's something that really gets him going.

choso kamo really has an obsession with your ass so he loves it when you're on top and riding him reverse cowgirl style. seeing your cheeks bounce so prettily on his dick and the sweet curve of your back arching in pleasure makes his mind go fuzzy. and when you turn your head around to look back at him, lips parted as sweet moans slip out and face tinted a light pink, that makes his dick twitch inside of you and soon he's the one thrusting up into you, groaning your name like it's the only thing he knows.

shiu kong likes to see your whole body on display for him hence his favourite position is cowgirl. he enjoys seeing the way your tits bounce as you ride him and to see the way you bite your lip to hold back your moans. when you place your hands on his chest and slam your hips back down on to him, the new angle makes him sigh contentedly, hands grabbing your sides to help you move atop him. if you get tired, he's more than happy to take over and piston his hips ruthlessly into your mushy pussy.

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spraklingyuzu · 1 day ago

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If there’s anything that Zayne loves about you it’s your quick wit; your ability to play along with him even through his dry humor and to make any situation interesting. Anyone and everyone around him realizes that it’s only you who can make him smile–genuinely smile because of your words.

But there are times when Zayne remembers its a double edged sword rather than a silly quirk of yours he loves.

Like now, when you’re both on a date, the salesperson looking slightly confused at your comment, you looking absolutely innocent at your comment, and Zayne going pale and his eyes going wide at your comment.

“I’m sorry miss…I think you’re confused. This is a perfume store…?” The salesperson’s sentence ended in a question, unsure whether or not you and Zayne understood what store you both had walked into.

“Oh, sorry! The comment must have slipped out, right Zayne?” You looked at the man in question beside you with an innocently devilish grin.

Zayne coughed awkwardly into his fist. “Yes, of course…”

Your head snapped back to the salesperson. You took up the light blue glass perfume bottle in your hands. “We’ll take it!” The salesperson smiled and walked you both to the cash register.

Despite still being in slight shock Zayne managed to slip his card into the worker’s hands before you could. “Still a gentleman I see,” you said. Zayne looked away and took a sip of his milk tea.

“Thanks for coming! Enjoy the rest of your night!”

“Thank you, you too!” You waved goodbye and took Zayne’s hand in yours as you left the store.

You both walked a little ways down the street in complete silence, hands still in one another’s before Zayne finally said softly, “‘It’s kind of like liquor-filled chocolate’ she says…”

“Why are you quoting me?” You asked with a knowing smile.

“I am…thinking…”

“Recalibrating? Rebooting? Doctor-Zayne.exe has stopped working?”

Zayne remembers all too well the night he ate liquor-filled chocolate, or should he say his body remembers it. Nothing but skin on skin. Lips and tongue. Hands squeezing. Nails digging. Warmth and heat everywhere despite losing control of his Evol.

“Earth to Zayne? Hello?” You left his side and moved to stand in front of him. “Oh no…I think I broke him.” He broke out of the memory and looked at you, asking, questioning. You simply shrugged. “She said the perfume had effects like an aphrodisiac. Not too different from liquor-filled chocolates, no?”

“Liquor-filled chocolates are not aphrodisiacs.” Zayne knew he was playing a dangerous game even before your lips curled into a smirk.

“No,” you agreed. “But the evidence speaks for itself~” you sang-said, turning around and walking off. A persistent innocence in your bouncy steps.

Zayne was positive you would be the death of him someday.

But don’t worry, he was determined to find your own “liquor-filled chocolate”.

#❤︎ 𝒚𝒖𝒛𝒖 is typing...#love and deepspace #love and deepspace imagine #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lnds #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #lnds zayne #lads zayne #l&ds zayne #li shen #zayne li #zayne x mc #love and deepspace x mc #l&ds

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aes-ashh · 3 days ago

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red❤

#clex #smallville

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kentblvd · 3 days ago

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CLEAN UP ISLE MY PANTS

SWITCH | CLARK KENT

cw. very explicit smut, detailed description of various sex positions, humiliation, dumbification, powerplay, unprotected sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), non canon clark, mean clark

synopsis. clark likes to put you in the most embarrassing positions possible to put you in your place

masterlist navigation

prone with one hand covering your eyes and his other hand has two fingers shoved into your mouth

"clark... mm'so good," you slur around his fingers.

you're face down, cheek smushed against a pillow with your mouth curled around two of his thick fingers. they're heavy, nearly gagging you, but he knows exactly how deep to press before your throat flutters tight in warning.

his other hand blankets your eyes, covering your vision so you can't see him, only feel him deep deep inside your guts as his hips slap crudely against your ass while he fucks you flat into the bed. "wow... you're helpless like this," he pants. you whine in response. he uses his free hand to shove your legs open as wide as they'll go so your hole is spread and accessible.

“look so darn pretty like this, honey.” he coos, shallowing his thrusts for a second just to grind in slow and deep. your eyes roll back in pleasure at how good and deep he is. prone allows him to press so fucking deep into you and push his balls snugly against your ass each time he bottoms out. you swear you feel his fat tip nudge your womb. you wanna look back to see his face, or try to muster a response, but each time you try, he slips his fingers further down your mouth and rolls his fingertips over your tongue so everything comes out garbled.

“mm mm,” he tuts. “keep still. y'gonna take what i give you.” clark presses his chest to your back and smothers you while his meaty cock ruts back and forth against your plushy walls. he grits his teeth each time you clamp around him when he tries to draw back. his eyes then flick down to where spit’s starting to string from your lips to his knuckles. “gosh, look at you.”

you can’t look. not with his palm still cupped over your eyes. maybe the lack of vision sharpens your senses everywhere else, because you're especially sensitive to his cock dragging thick through your soaked, stretched-out cunt, the sweat dripping down your back, and the tremble in your thighs from how long he’s kept you like this. you whimper and try to swallow around his fingers, but he just pushes in deeper, watching your throat bob around them as he fucks forward again, harder now.

"mmph-"

“why are you complaining?” he huffs. “i thought you liked this. i think you like when i fold you up n’ get you dumb. like when i make it all messy for you.” his cock pulses inside you as he says it, and it makes your whole body jump. your hips jerk reflexively, trying to squirm or maybe meet his thrusts, but his hand on your face presses down firmer and he drops his weight harder over your back to hold you down like an animal.

₊˚⊹

pussy eating with your knees pushed up as far as they can go and your thighs spread wide

your knees are bent high up by your chest, thighs spread wide and trembling, cunt laid bare and sopping with how he works his tongue against your silken folds. he’s got you in the filthiest position possible, folded up like a fucktoy, held open with no shame. his glasses are castrated onto your bedside table

he's instructed you to hold your own legs open, which is humiliating, but his hands are busy. one is pushing down on your clit and rolling it in sharp circles, while he uses two fingers of his other hand to scissor inside your pussy while he eats you out.

he goes in nose-first, tongue sloppily dragging over your pussy while he hums something vulgar against it. as clark slurps at your clit, sucking it into his mouth just to pop off and spit again, wetness dribbles down over his chin and onto your already soaked slit.

“oh my. look at this,” he groans into you, mouth still pressed against your cunt. he removes his fingers from inside of you - you whine at the sudden loss - to spread your pussy lips enough to see your sloppy, drooling insides. it's so embarassing. “she's gushing. who made you this wet, sweetie?” you're beyond being ashamed at this point.

"you- oh fuck, you!" you moan loudly when his tongue dips lower, slides right down to your hole and fucks in just barely. he drags it back up again like he’s tracing every inch of you on purpose, then he’s mouthing over your clit again, sucking it so hard your hips jerk up off the mattress. “watch your mouth,” he scolds, his voice muffled by how deep he is between your legs. “there she is. y’feel that? feel how much she’s throbbin’ for me?”

he flicks his tongue into you and grins into your cunt when your moans climb to a louder pitch. your fingers are digging into your skin now, trying to keep yourself held up even though your limbs are shaking. his hands are tight on your thighs, thumbs spreading you further while he works his tongue in messy circles, rutting his mouth into you.

“gonna make you gush,” he groans. “y'gonna make a mess all over my face.”

you whimper again, whole body curling up tighter as he sucks harder. he watches your stomach clench and your cunt swell under his tongue like you're about to burst. "cl-clark" you gasp, "clark 'm cumming, please, ca-can i cum?" you squirm, and he shoves his tongue deep past your hole, encouraging you to let go. he gives you a hum which creates vibrations through you pussy, and that's all you need.

you cream all over his mouth, juices leaking down your ass and the sheets and his chin, and even then, he doesn’t stop. mouthing and slurping noisily at your pussy.

₊˚⊹

face down ass up with his leg up and foot by your head

clark pushes you down hard onto the bed, chest flattening into the sheets, but the real manhandling begins when he yanks your hips up so your ass is in the air. he kneels behind you, propping one foot up beside your head, and pressing his cock into you slow and rough so you adjust to his size. when he's halfway in, he slams the rest of his fat fucking cock all the way inside you to the hilt, then drags your ass up higher so he can angle his cock in a way that makes it drag against your sweet spot with every thrust.

"mngh-! shit baby, its too big...ohmygod," you cry out, trying to squirm a little so theres not so much pressure on the softest, gummiest part of your insides, but he pushes your head down and forces you in place. "too much?" clark mocks, thrusting slow and shallow so he keeps hitting that one spot that makes you dumb and your pussy squelch and drip around him.

"yeah," you slur, trying to grab at something to anchor yourself; you land on holding his ankle with one hand while the other grips the sheets.

he keeps mimicking you, "yeah, baby? 's too big for you? y'want me to make love to you nice and slow instead?" he huffs, dragging back, back... his tip is the only part of him still inside at this point, getting gripped snugly by your slippery walls. your pussy's trying to suck him back in. then, his hips slam forward in one thrust, balls hitting your ass hard. you scream, feeling tricked by his sweet tone. your whole body arches and your walls stretch around him.

then clark starts fucking you. his cock slams into you hard and fast, pounding roughly inside you while you moan and squirm in an attempt to get away from his ruthless thrusts. his hands grip down on your hips tightly, thumbs dragging nails down your skin as his cock fucks you harder, rougher, shoving deep like he’s claiming every inch of your hole.

every brutal thrust sends a shudder through your body, your pussy throbbing around him. he leans down so his cock spears into you deeper, and breathes down your neck, low grunts slipping out as he drives you harder, fucking with no mercy. "yeah, that's it. you take it with no complaints."

your breathy whines match his own deeper sounds, and you dig your nails into his ankle. he keeps slamming in deep, hips pistoning, balls slapping your clit with each violent pull back. then, he pulls you up by your underarms unceremoniously so you're kneeling in front of him, and he fucks up into you now, then pulls your head up just enough to crush his mouth on yours in a sloppy, open mouthed kiss.

₊˚⊹

holding your hair like reins while you suck him off

just a quick break from work, is what you intended when you came to visit him on the clock. you wanted to help him destress from the constant chaos he has to deal with at work, maybe sit on his lap and kiss for a few minutes, or step out to have a quick snack run; but not this.

he's standing over you in the locked printer room, his shirt tight, crisp, untouched, while you’re the mess beneath him. your makeup's a mess, your mouth sloppy and slick with saliva. your eyes and nose are leaking from his cock hitting the back of your throat.

his hands clamp down on your hair, each fist grabbing your hair into makeshift reins pigtails. he pulls your head back hard enough to crane your neck and force your mouth wide open around the girth of his cock. he guides your mouth back and forth on his cock so you slobber along his shaft noisily.

his breath comes heavy through his nose as he watches you, completely transfixed. his brows are furrowed, body leaning over you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “look at you,” he mutters. one hand lets go of your hair just long enough to brush the back of his fingers down your cheek, dragging across the slick trails running from your eyes to your chin. “god, babe. i was gonna take you out for a coffee or something.”

his fist yanks your head up, forcing your lips to slip off the tip with a wet, sloppy pop. his cockhead glistens with your spit, leaking with your slobber and his pre that beads at the tip. you lick at his swollen, flushed cockhead, swirling it slow and then wrapping your lips around it sucking.

he pulls your head back down without warning, shoving the whole length of him back past your lips. your throat clamps around him reflexively, but his grip doesn’t loosen. he holds you there with his cock driving deep and slow. “can’t even think straight with you like this. mouth all pretty and wet and stuffed full. you’re really gonna act like this is my fault?”

#‪‪❤︎‬ best fics ever.

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rafesangelita · 2 days ago

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♡ puppy!reader fucking herself on dad!johnb’s cock

warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, doggy style, name calling (pup/puppy), slight dumbification, puppy being cock drunk, spanking, crying, john b refers to himself as ‘daddy’ (if that isn’t your thing, please just scroll), light praise, creampie

a/n: i’ve been in the most insane writing slump ever so i hope writing this lil drabble brings me back.. but anyways! you could find dad!johnb and puppy!reader’s masterlist here ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

being completely and irrevocably fucked out wasn’t new to you, especially when john b loved plowing into you like his life depended on how brainless and stupid he could make you with each harsh thrust into your weeping cunt. even now as you lay limp with your head in the pillows, john b is drilling into you with a force that makes you hiccup with every stroke of his hips against your own. “just fuckin’ look at you,” john b said through gritted teeth, a yelp falling from your lips as he delivered a hard smack! to the globe of your ass, “..you’re nothing but a dumb puppy when i fuck you like this.”

you felt delirious, your eyebrows knitting together as small pants left your mouth. john b filled you up to the absolute brim with his cock, the tip pressing at your cervix while he rubbed your clit with fervor. although you felt like you couldn’t handle anymore, your hips starting meeting his rhythmic thrusts, the action making john b’s jaw slack. “shit— you just can’t get enough, can you?” you let out a moan, your bottom lip trembling as tears of unadulterated pleasure ran down your cheeks. “n-no!” you cried, your fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you, “want’ your cum!” john b cursed under his breath, his hand coming down to rest in the curve of your hip.

“show me how bad you want it, pup,” he stopped moving, his eyes falling down to where you two were connected, “make your daddy cum.” you moaned at his words, your arms shaking as you supported yourself on the palms of your hands. turning your head, you looked up at john b with that tearful gaze he loved so much before sinking all the way down onto his length. you blinked, slow and heavy, giving yourself a moment to adjust before moving forward, a choked groan rumbling from john b’s chest as your pussy gripped him like a vice. “oh, fuck— just like that,” he hissed, “atta’ girl..”

you let out a shaky breath at the praise, your arousal making a mess between your thighs as john b slid in and out of you with ease. the man behind you watched as you took every inch of his cock, both of you moaning as the sticky sound of your slick walls bounced off of the walls of your shared bedroom. john b didn’t realize how hard he had been digging into your skin until you whimpered, his fingertips surely to leave marks on the flesh there. taking his bottom lip between his teeth, john b felt his muscles beginning to twitch as the familiar tension started building up in the pit of his stomach.

angling your hips, you leaned down and rested your cheek against the duvet before arching your back just the way john b trained you to, a gasp escaping your lips when you felt the bulbous head of his length rub against your sweet spot, your thighs threatening to give out from under you at the overwhelming sensation of having him toy with your clit at the same time. “i’m gonna cum again!” you squealed, your hips stuttering as john b took it upon himself to start fucking into you as he pulled you against his chest by the roots of your hair.

you felt the band in your tummy snap as soon as john b bit down on your shoulder, your insides turning warm as the hot, thick ropes of his cum dribbled down from between your legs. there was so much of it, you couldn’t help the cry that ripped itself from your throat when he slipped out and nudged your overstimulated clit, your eyes screwing shut at the sudden aftershock that wracked through your body. “fuckin’ hell, puppy..” john b cursed, his chest rising and falling as you doubled over and fell into the mattress. you couldn’t even formulate a single thought at this point, your vision growing fuzzy before john b flipped you over and spread your thighs apart.

“w-what are you doing?” you whined, still as sensitive as one could be. “you woke me up in the middle of the night begging and crying to be fucked..” he gathered some of the cum that managed to drip onto your folds and prodded at your entrance where he slowly pushed it back in, a cold shiver running down your spine once he kept going and filled you up with his cock once again, “so you’re gonna lay here and fuckin’ take it.” was the last thing he said before fucking you into oblivion, your mind going numb while your yelps and screams echoed throughout the chateau.

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amourluvie · 3 days ago

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❤︎ ໋𓈒 feeling very soft today totally not because of my beloved riddle's bday so here are some fluffy thoughts my brain brewed up about our favourite cuties . ++ ortho's part is completely platonic.

imagine brushing LEONA'S hair and then braiding it―or kissing his scarred eye softly.

caressing SILVER'S face while he sleeps in your lap―then gently playing with his pearlescent locks which appear almost translucent in the warm embrace of the sunlight.

humming IDIA'S favourite songs ― whether they are premo's or the ost of his favourite anime ― waiting for him to guess where it's from orr recreating sugary sweet moments (from the shoujo animes he has watched with you) with him ― which always leaves him in a flustered , blushing mess.

going on icecream dates with MALLEUS ― although most of the times his icecream melts because he was too enraptured talking to you.

baking RIDDLE'S pastries ― or just cooking for him in general. it's such a small act of love to most people but to him it's something. something precious like gold and warm like a hug.

if there's anything that SEBEK absolutely cherishes but won't admit out loud ― it's you praising him. your praises are life to him.

LILIA has lived for centuries, has seen lives bloom and wither and of course was also there to witness the world change. But he's still not used to being taken care for ― he has took care of particularly everyone he deemed precious ― so every time you offer to cook for him ( because obviously . . his cooking is not for everyone's tastebuds atleast ) he will immediately get startled and reject the offer , but after some persuading ― he will agree. Or massaging his muscles which were littered with scars ― an painful reminder of his general days.

VIL loves doing your makeup or skincare ― he already has brought all the products that are perfect for your skin type aswell as the cosmetics that will make you look even more prettier than you already are. also will adore shopping trips ( not to mention he gives alot of tips on fashion and beauty in general. )

sleepovers with ACE & DEUCE are always chaotic and fun ― playful bickering , snacks , (sometimes) actually good movies and just genuine laughter echoing throughout the room. while poor grim complains about the noise you guys are making ― making it difficult for him to nap ― the beast's pleas were not heeded.

doing popular trends on magicam with CATER.

being overall domestic with TREY ― from baking with him to just . . being with him he doesn't care he just loves being close to you and trying out things with you.

being the muse & lover of ROOK isn't easy especially when he's constantly kissing the ground you have graced your feet with or just complimenting in the most poetic way possible.

EPEL tries his best to appear "manly and cool" infront of you but instantly fails the moment you compliment him ― his cheeks and ears heating up ― eyes not meeting your adoring gaze due to being flustered.

KALIM will spoil you like the world is ending itself. don't be suprised if you found over 10 boxes of the snacks you had previously mentioned liking to him. god forbid you told him you wanted a pet. the literal human embodiment of sunshine that goes by the name kalim al asim literally is gonna gift you a tiger.

JAMIL expresses his love for you throughout his constant fussing about your overall health ― his cooking too ( which tastes utterly heavenly. ) he makes sure your always well fed and taken care for aslong as he is alive.

hyenas are known to be extremely affectionate and RUGGIE is no exception by any means if he is not busy he is constantly holding your hand,hugging you, nuzzling your neck etc. he just can't help it! he loves you more than anything could describe.

gym dates with JACK are very frequent ― and one of jack's two favourite things combined ― you and working out!.

complimenting AZUL always makes him feel like he's gonna explode due to how happy he is on the outside.

if you said you hated FLOYD'S bone ― crushing hugs and mischievous , playful antics you will definitely be lying. or the way you immediately perk up whenever you hear "shrimpyy~" in the distance.

JADE is known to be scary ― which is indeed true he can be a bit unnerving at times, but they also haven't seen the soft side of him that's only shown to the people that he trusts the most ― which includes you ofcourse. They haven't seen the enthusiastic jade that rambles about the many different species of mushrooms to you for hours without stopping. also going on hiking trips with him is comfort mixed with chaos in a way.

I don't know if robots like ORTHO can do this but singing him a lullaby . it's uncertain if he will actually fall asleep or not but he will love it either way.

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st4rbwrry · 1 day ago

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𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 ୨୧ ˖ ࣪ . . . 6.6k. black fem!reader ◞ lowercase intended ◞ cnc ! ◞ popstar!reader + stalker!ghost, rough sex ◞ sub / dom dynamic ◞ readers just subby ◞ unprotected ◞ role play ◞ mask kink obvi ◞ size kink ◞ praise ◞ oral ꒰ f + m. ꒱ ◞ shibari ◞ manhandling ◞ dryhumping ◞ pet name usage ꒰ petal , sweetheart , doll ꒱ ◞ daddy kink ◞ choking + excessive spanking ◞ overstimulation ◞ check ins + aftercare ! . minors aren’t welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated <3 𓊇ྀི

꒰ 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 ꒱ . . . listened to creep by radiohead while writing this so uhh, yeah. actually not super proud abt how this went but i needed it out! so, here’s some visuals for theme . <3 ‘n here’s the smut linkies > > ( ❤︎. ❤︎ ❤︎ )

it’s strange.

a glove covered hand wrapped around your throat, soon after gripping bruises into your inner thigh to keep them shoved apart. audible, rough breaths from a heavy man pushing his weight down onto you — never would you have expected your night to go this way.

you’d had your fair share of stalker stories, sure. it came with the job of being a cherished pop-star. the obsession of strangers curating parasocial relationships with people they think they fully knew. the letters, the gifts, the showing up to hotels and airports before the news could get the scoop. bombarding you with personal questions, the judging how you lived your life, and jealousy towards those whom you kept within your inner circle — or who you shared a bed with. this level of worship became senile. which is why you deserved a break.

“she’s eating boys!”

the volume of jennifer’s body surrounds your bedroom where you sat pretty at your vanity preparing for bedtime. pink, frilly panties adorned your lower halve with a short matching aeropostale top. finishing your skincare while occasionally watching the movie on your pink hp laptop that sits on your king sized bed, you yawn tiredly while spreading the jelly eye patches over your dark circles.

its a lonely night. these past few months have been nothing but work for you. writing new songs, studio hours, staying on top of gym sessions with your hard-ass personal trainer, and preparing for another tour. you had to decompress, standing stern on your choice of pausing everything to take a mental health break for at least two months. you wanted to be left alone, spend time with your family and friends even . . feel normal. it sounded mediocre to say you hated being famous and missed your boring, regular life. but it was true. the money would always be nice, but nothing came close to feeling like just a human being rather than a robot.

it’s past midnight and you were unable to sleep. eating a good meal that consisted of garlic steak bites and broccolini alongside a healthy, filing smoothie before you took an everything shower. shaving, exfoliating, even painting your toes to now doing your skincare, face glowing in milk toner and snail mucin under the soft light of your lamp illuminating the room.

your home was your safe space, always quiet, a place you couldn’t wait to come back to so you had the privilege of going completely non-verbal and straight faced without anyone questioning what was wrong or urging you to speak. it’s a big place, tucked into the top floor of a converted 1920s textile factory, it’s the perfect industrial loft, something you’ve dreamt of. it’s a cozy house you purchased and made a home from all your hard work. with its high ceilings, exposed brick walls, and oversized windows that gave anyone the opportunity to openly watch — it was serenely special.

against one exposed wall, your dream minimalist kitchen gleams with dark concrete countertops, matte black cabinetry, and open shelving lined with copper pots, ceramic mugs, and wine bottles. heading down the tall staircase that lead straight into the living room with the kitchen directly underneath your bedroom — you go to grab a small snack and something to drink. you’re opening the vintage smeg fridge in cream to search for water and your favorite granny smith apples with caramel dip. you’d have to brush your teeth again before heading to sleep.

in the corner of your eye, as you rip open the small packet of fruit, you swear you spot a shadowed figure in the crevice of your bookshelf and guest bathroom. gripping the bottle of water in your hand, you go to squint your eyes to double check and make sure you were just seeing things. you’d been up since five in the morning, running a few errands for the home like getting groceries for meal preps or cat litter for your fur baby snuggled in her corner currently by the glowing fish tank. you were tired, so you had to be seeing shit.

you turn for a moment, opening the bottle of water to take a sip, studying the area to clear your sudden fatigue.

the man is there.

watching intently, his eyes narrow as he sees you turn towards the shadowy area of the room where he stood. he’s been careful not to show himself yet, but he knows you suspect something is amiss. he feels his heart rate pick up slightly, watching as your eyes scan the room for any signs of movement. he’s torn between wanting to reveal himself and wanting to stay hidden in the shadows, observing you in your natural state. he can sense that you're feeling the creeping sensation of being watched, but he remains quiet and stationary in his spot by the entryway.

shaking it off, you go to head back up to your room to finish your movie and finally get comfy in bed. he waits until you are a few steps above the bottom floor before he starts to move swiftly. slowly and quietly, he pads across the living room, following you silently. he can already smell the sweet scent of your perfume and body wash, his senses heightened in the quiet of the night. the way your body moves in the soft light of your dim loft, flesh moving beneath the fabric of your clothing, or lack thereof. the slight bounce of your hips and ass as you ascend the stairs to leave him at the bottom. the man could feel his body reacting to your presence, needing to remain focused and following you up into your room.

he makes sure to stay far enough behind you so you don’t hear or see him. he doesn't have to worry much about making any noise, as the thick area rug covering the floor is plush under his feet and muffles his movements. he can hear the sound of the movie playing through the open door of your bedroom, and his gaze is stuck on the back of your body, the way you move and the shape of your daunting curves.

he takes a deep breath, trying to control his growing desire to grab you, to feel the softness of your skin against his own. he has to remind himself to take it slow, to play the long game. he’s waited a long time for this moment, he can’t fuck it up. he can't ruin it now by acting too soon. he’s never felt this kind of intensity before, usually good on controlling his emotions. but you were like no other. an obsession.

he hears the rustling of fabric as you make yourself comfortable in bed, adjusting the covers and getting ready to watch another movie as the credits to this one rolled. the man leans against the wall outside your room, listening to the faint sound of the movie and the occasional shifting of the bed as you move. he can feel his body getting more and more tense, the desire to touch you becoming almost unbearable.

there you lay on your side, now streaming ‘the notebook’ with one leg thrown over the top of your comforter while the rest of you is tucked under, a sanrio plushie snuggled close in your arms by your head. soundly wrapped up and unaware of the predator lurking in your home. you are precious, he ponders. roaming over your figure, he takes in the way your shirt fits snugly across your chest, panties hugging your thick hips and supple ass poking out for attention. his fists clench involuntarily. a fucking delicacy you are. the blood is rushing to his dick aggressively now, mind racing with thoughts of what to do with you.

he’s gotta do it, he has to hold you.

he couldn’t take it any longer. so, he crosses the small space between the doorway and the bed in three long strides, towering over you as you lay mindlessly in bed, nearly drifting off to sleep. you look even more beautiful up close. features calm and innocent. his breath catches in his throat subtly; he couldn’t believe how close he was to you. to breathe you in, to envelop your beauty and pheromones.

he doesn’t want to scare you. trying to ease his way into getting your attention. should he touch you first? would that scare you? or maybe he should make himself known. an introduction would only worsen the problem. he knows you, that’s all that mattered. you didn’t need to know him.

the man speaks up, voice low and gruff as he utters, “turn around, sweetheart.”

the scream that erupts from you is deadly. it’s puncturing his ear drums when you jump in your spot from the baritone of the voice in your room. in your state of panic, you’d face the intruder in your home, rolling over to the opposite side of the mattress before keeping your legs crouched on the floor. he notices how you begin to shake, not attempting to force you still in your act of horror. he wanted to be careful with you as you were too delicate to hurt. for now.

the blown pupils you have as your body trembles in full fear, eyeing the stranger in your vicinity, questioning whom he could be and how he was able to get into your secured home without you noticing. scattering around your bedside table, you quickly find a switchblade with tears in your eyes, stumbling backwards over a rocking chair before you’re hiding against the tall, sheer curtained windows, pointing your weapon in his oddly calm direction.

“look at you,” he growls, and it’s nearly animalistic, like he’s been starved of speaking to you — needing you. footsteps slowly stalking closer as he wraps around the bed. “sweet little thing like you g’na hurt me with that, eh?”

“no! s-stay away from me!” it’s loud the way you shout at him, tone shaky and body weakening to your dismay.

the urgency to escape was fighting with you, but with the way this man was built, you’d have no chance to get far. he’s tall and brooding. a skull-patterned balaclava covered his face, eyes revealed to show dark brown irises, eyelids smeared with black eyeshadow to completely hide who he was. he wore a cotton obsidian hoodie with the hood thrown over his head, a camo harness adorned on his chest. thick padded cameo army pants and heavy black boots. fingers hidden by gloves. he looked terrifying, shoulders wide and muscles grown, practically busting out the seams of his attire. when he spoke to you, his voice carried a deep, chiseled british accent that urged goosebumps to spike up on your skin.

the man watches you press back against the window, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. the moonlight catches the tears on your cheeks, making them glisten as they fall. he tilts his head slightly, studying you—how delicate you look right now, how beautifully undone.

“your shaking,” he murmurs, voice lower now—softer. not kind, never kind—but measured. controlled. “i don’t want to frighten you . . but i needed to be closer.”

your mind races as you try to make sense of his words. “w-who are you?” you manage to stammer, trying to keep your voice steady. “why are you here?”

“that’s not important right now.”

you’re too stunned to speak, eyes blown and heart pounding. you’re acutely aware of his sudden touch on your chin, the rough texture of his gloved fingers against your skin. you try to pull away, but his grip is too strong, and he only allows you room to squirm slightly.

the man lets out a soft chuckle, his grip on your chin tightening just a fraction. “don’t even think about trying to crawl away from me, sweetheart. i've got you right where i want you.”

your eyes frantically dart around the room, searching for any possible escape route, but — he's holding you, and that combined with the fact that he's positioned himself squarely in front of you, leaves you feeling utterly trapped and powerless. the anxiety you feel is tangible, but there's something else stirring in your belly as well — a strange, unwelcoming heat that spreads from the sound of his hoarse, commanding voice.

he leans in close enough for you to feel his breath on your face, gasping when he goes to grab your wrist to pry the switchblade from your shaky fingers, the metal clatters to the floor as he tosses it aside carelessly. “don’t try it, ꒰ ♥︎ ꒱.”

a gloved thumb swipes roughly across your tear-stained cheek, the crude gesture sends a shudder through your entire body, equal parts revulsion and perverse excitement. you hate yourself for it, wanting to deny the heat pooling low in your belly. defenses begin to crumble. brain scattered with wants of protest while your body betrayed you. what the fuck was happening to you? none of this should be arousing. it’s like a dark novel come true. this man could harm you, and you were turned on.

ghost leans in even closer, the heat of his body hard against you, struggling to breathe. eyes search yours, studying your reaction as he tightens his grip on your wrist ever so slightly. “i could hurt you," he murmurs. "but i won’t . . unless you make me."

the man's words send a shiver down your spine, both terrifying and thrilling. nipples harden beneath the thin shirt you wore as your core throbs with unwanted desire. you try to pry him away, but it's like trying to move a mountain — utterly futile.

"no . . ” you whimper, even as your treacherous body arches slightly into his touch. "please, i have a boyfriend. he loves me. he’ll come for me."

“hm,” ghost snickers condescendingly. “doesn’t sound much like a threat to me. from what i saw, seems like he does a piss poor job of bein’ a man. can’t even fuck you good.”

how would he know that? the question dissipates after his free hand moves up to your neck, circling the delicate column, a thumb pressing against the pulse point, the wild thrum of your heartbeat strong. "petal," he murmurs, tone low and rough. "you're terrified of me . . and yet, i can feel how much you want me."

something circuits in your brain that makes you moan the instant he pushes the outline of his dick on your stomach, cheeks flaring up with heat from the thickness of him.

“feel that?” he grinds forward. “that’s what you fuckin’ do t’me. what you’ve done to me for years.”

as if you weren’t scared before, nothing prepared you to hear that come from him. “y-years?” your mind reels trying to comprehend that. it’s haunting.

“years,” he repeats to finalize.

whimpers ensue as you writhe against him, overwhelmed by his jarring confession. tears continue to leak from the corners of your eyes as conflicting emotions war within you — fear, disgust, and shameful arousal.

"please," you beg, voice breaking in a sob. "don’t do this. i don't want this." even as the words leave your mouth, you can feel your body responding differently to his touch, nipples pebbling and pussy clenching with need.

“liar," he hisses, grinding his hips harder against your midsection. "what’s this then, huh?”

then, without even giving you a moment to think, he’s sliding his fingers into your panties to touch the stickiness of arousal brewing and seeping into cotton fabric. calloused fingers brushing over your puffy clit, hips jerking and almost collapsing into his touch.

“listen to my girl,” he grits his teeth, swiping rough fingers delicately over your bud, gliding between fat lips to reach the heated opening he plunges into with gloved digits. “been a while since i heard her this wet.”

a while? no, he couldn’t have.

“it’s exactly what your thinkin’.”

fuck, who knows what else he’s seen. given his knowledge, probably everything.

he groans deeply as his fingers slip through your slick folds, coating his glove in your essence. "mhm, good ‘nuf for me to slip right in,” he taunts, thrusting knuckle-deep inside tight walls. "tight ‘lil girl you got, yeah?”

unable to stop the moan that spills from your lips, your hips buck greedily against his invading fingers. it feels wrong, so wrong, but you find yourself craving more of his touch.

"that’s it, petal," he croons, pumping his fingers faster, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside you. "take what i give you. learn how to behave.”

ghost withdraws his soaked fingers abruptly, bringing them to your lips. "open up," he commands, smearing your juices across your bottom lip. when you hesitate, he pinches your nose shut, forcing you to part your lips on a gasp. he maneuvers his coated fingers past your teeth, deep into your mouth. "clean ‘em off. get a good taste f’me.”

shuddering at the command, a mix of revulsion and desire warring in your mind. there's something in the way he's looking at you, something in his voice that makes you obey. opening up your mouth, your tongue darts out to taste your own cum off his glove. the taste is heady, a mixture of sweetness from you and leather from the material. that makes your head spin. you want him tasting it too.

he lets out a deep, guttural groan. "you’ve got a greedy little mouth, don't you doll?" he mutters. "just can't get enough of me, can you?"

with the fog in your head, you don’t even fight it when he’s lifting you off the ground and bringing you back to your mattress, tossing you like you weigh nothing at all. it all happens so quick yet he’s moving like he knows you’re not going anywhere. you wouldn’t fight it, in fact, you couldn’t. big man like him won’t allow you to. he’d have his full weight pinned on you in milliseconds. a trained soldier. there’s no fucking way he’d allow you, not when he’s waited so long for this.

before you can react, he’s on top of you—knees bracketing your hips, his stern gaze locking onto yours.

"stay still," he murmurs, voice dark with intent. his hands grab your wrists and pull them behind your back.

the rope he obtains appears from nowhere—thick, soft cord that bites just enough to remind you who’s in control. loop after loop, he ties off a shibari pattern across your chest, and arms, intricate and beautiful . . and inescapable. every tug only tightens the embrace. he’s removed your clothing so you’re nothing but bare. tying intricate knots around your backside and ankles, binding you spread-eagle on the mattress, on your knees and ass up.

a whimper sounds as the tan ropes pull taut, your body stretched apart and helpless. the position leaves you exposed—completely at his mercy. every breath makes your bound chest rise and fall, the restraints only tightening with each small movement.

ghost steps back just enough to admire his work, his dark eyes raking over every inch of you. "perfect," he grunts, voice thick with hunger. "like a fucking offering."

chin resting into the bubblegum pink duvet, you steady your breathing through your nose, fingers stretching out for a sense of control even if you knew you had none. the cold air of your apartment hits your pussy, goosebumps all over your skin from the realization that you’re fully exposed to this man. being bound by tough rope on soft skin made you feel taken. like you no longer owned yourself. you laid here, completely for his sin. there’s no point arguing, you’d given that up moments ago when your body decided to fully submit and be okay with what’s going to happen. what you wanted to happen.

the stocky man runs his now bare hands down your spine, slow and deliberate, stopping to grip one ass cheek hard before sliding lower—fingers teasing through your slick folds again. “arch deeper, move back like you want it.”

when you remain stubbornly still, he delivers a sharp smack to your still-reddened asscheek. "now, sweetheart. or i walk away and leave your pussy achy and empty."

a choked sob escapes you as the sting blooms across your skin—sharp and hot. arching instinctively, you push your hips higher into the air, presenting yourself exactly how he wants to lessen punishment, your pussy opening up like the prettiest flower.

ghost lets out a low, approving growl. "there we gooo," he purrs. “like it when they listen.”

you’re moaning helplessly as you lay spread open for the brooding man behind you in full gear. his eyes are dark, hands are huge and fingers thick as they sprawl over your backside. smoothing the round globes of your ass cheeks before he’s giving your achy pussy one good, full-palmed pat. it’s sluice and ready to be fucked open real good, dick just aching thinking about it. shifting in your spot, you wish you could ease the ache between your legs by squeezing your thighs together, but you can’t. therefore you whine and pout about it, cheek laying flat on the bed, limbs struggling.

his voice cuts through like a blade. “keep that ass up.”

ghost crawls onto the bed behind you, muscled stature pushing you firmly into the mattress. you whine and squirm, but his hand comes down hard on the back of your neck, glueing you still. he’s inherently strong — you couldn't break his grip even if you tried to. he’s been watching you for months, and knows exactly what he wants and how he needs you. the games were done.

he grinds his dick against your sore, exposed ass—fully clothed in those weighted camo pants, the rough fabric scraping over sensitive skin with every roll of his hips. the pressure is intense, maddening even. feeling every ridge of him through the layers between you, and a traitorous moan claws its way out of your throat. heaving with despair, the periwinkle of your toes curl, shoulder blades shifting as you cry out.

"shhh," he hushes near your ear, voice dark and amused. "i just w’na feel you."

you gasp as he shifts you, his hands firm and unyielding as they reposition your hips back against him. the thick ridge of his cock presses right against your aching, dripping core—still separated by layers of fabric, but so heavy.

a soft, broken moan escapes you as he grinds slowly—deliberate, torturous—with just enough aggression to make your toes wiggle and your thighs tremble. arching into the contact, you’d die to chase that forbidden friction.

"greedy lil’ thing," he murmurs into your ear, voice rough with need. "feel how hard i am for you? how bad i want to rip these clothes off ‘n bury myself deep?"

he’s molding the flesh of your ass like it’d run away. soft and bouncy, seeping through the gaps of his fingers. your wrists tug on the restraints, mouth agape as you mewl, now urging yourself to move back on it, tired of being teased. while arching your spine lower, you steadily rock the plump of your ass back onto his crotch, twiddling your acrylic nails and puffing out air from how good it felt to have your clit brush on the outline of his fat dick.

ghost makes a noise of amusement, staying still to watch you use him how you’d like. "that's it, work those hips. get yourself nice and ready for me."

a free hand goes around to rub tight circles over your throbbing bud, mesmerized by how sticky you’re getting. the sound of it audible after each clap back, ghost licking his lips at the moist spot you leave on him, string of cum connecting. “fuck, g’na fill this greedy lil’ hole up real soon, petal.”

keening high in your throat, the dual stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, gently shaking your head as you continue to whine and hit your clit right on the fattest part of him. “o—ooh, my god.”

the thick seam of his pants drags over your swollen clit in a way that’s maddening—too much and not enough all at once. your hips jerk, chasing friction, but he holds you firm. he continues to ground his hips deeper into you, his thumb coming to trace over your swollen lips you’d bitten red before sinking it into your mouth, letting you suck and drool all over it.

“good girl,” he growls, rolling his hips harder. “suck it like you want my cock instead.”

his voice is a low rumble, and he sounds so hungry. like he'd never be able to get enough of you. and you like it—being needed, being wanted. you can't deny the way he makes you feel, all weak and needy. you should be scared. he is dangerous, he's big and gruff, but when he looks at you like that, you just feel safe.

he thrusts harder now, gripping your ass and thwacking it roughly, pretty brown skin hot from his palms that are covered in veins, tattoos, and scars. accent so heavy it makes you wetter with each word he speaks. “just focus on my voice, let me see tha’ pretty face.”

his hand tightens on your hip, fingers digging deep as he watches your face—every flutter of your lashes, every desperate breath. he’s savoring this. savoring you.

“stay right there,” ghost grits, grounding the imprint of his dick onto your sluice clit at just the perfect angle.

"don’t move," he growls, voice strained. "not unless i say."

“i w’na cum so bad,” you whine with tear stained cheeks and nearly a snotty nose, feet kicking and body aching from the angle you’re positioned in.

"you want to what, doll?" he asks, almost mocking. his thumb hooks further into your mouth, the imprint of it showing in your cheek. you’re slobbering over it, sucking up your saliva and moaning loud. he wants you to say it. “use your words. say that name.”

“i w’na cum so bad, sir!”

a satisfied hum rumbles from his chest at the word. the submission, the desperation in your voice. he could lose it, hands digging harder into soft flesh.

"yeah," he breathes, lips curling into a dark smile. "cum all over m’fuckin’ clothes f’me.”

he’s rough and demanding, but you love it. he’s everything you should be terrified of—but it just makes you want him more. you need it. you crave it. you’re desperate to please him now, to be good in his eyes. you want to show him you’re worthy of being fucked by him. shivering as he whispers the words, a sudden pang of heat shoots through you from the depravity of his request. he's so obviously in charge right now, and you'd do anything to be worthy of praise.

"please," you whisper, voice pleading. "please, sir. i—i want you. i need you. i’m good. i’m . . i’m —"

"you’re what, sweetheart?" he asks, voice low. he’s still got you pinned, but his touch is soft as he reaches up to brush back a plethora of hair covering your dolled features. his expression looks almost tender. "talk to me. you got it.”

"i’m your good girl," you breathe, the words rushing out of you. "yours to use."

your cheeks flush with heat as he studies you, head cocked to the side in awe. and it’s as if your own words make you cum, stomach coiling as you breathlessly moan and rock back on him — so silent but visibly loud. ghost takes your waist and helps you keep your pace up. “nngh, baby. right. there.”

ghost hums, low and satisfied as he runs a hand up your spine after removing his thumb from your mouth. he begins to unzip his pants, unlatching his palm from the back of your neck and relieving his hefty dick out to rest on your pussy, precum just oozing out of the burly head. he takes the base — stout with a thick vein leading up to coarse hairs matted on his groin — to push out some precum leaking at the tip.

he’s got hair on his husky stomach, mostly on the middle area leading up to his chest. he’s heavily built, it was clear with clothing on. now that he’s pulled off the hood on his head, stepped out of his cargo’s — he’s got the hoodie hiked up to his midsection, smelling like bourbon and cigars on a saturday night mixed with cedar. all of him is shown in the mirror directly facing your bed, pussy clenching from the view you’d gotten. he looked rugged, completely out-sizing you by a ton. a dirty, older man aching to be inside you. you wished you could see his face. get the whole experience.

“you want it, doll? want me to take what's mine?"

scalding, beefy hands find their way back to your ass, slamming down both palms repeatedly and pushing only the tip inside you to hear you gasp. every smack leaves you creamy, sobbing and grinding back as much as you could. gripping and yanking at your skin, swatting and repeating — he’s enthralled . “fuckin’ sweet ass you got, yeah?”

he could’ve sworn he saw you smirk amidst the brutality of his strikes. pussy full on soppy and dripping between plush thighs. it deserved a good taste, thinking about it for a while now. you clench from the sudden emptiness you feel when he leaves you, ghost standing up by the side of the bed to unravel the ropes from your ankles, deciding to pull your arms below the backs of your thighs and wrapping them together with your feet. he always takes his time with it, being delicate as you breathe in the silence, keening from a few touches he’d leave close to your pussy.

now your knees are to your chest, arms bound tightly behind yourself with rope harsh on your skin. thighs pressed together now easing the pressure on your clit. you plant your palms flat on the backs of your thighs, nails scraping your own skin out of sudden shock when you feel his hot mouth swallowing your pussy wetly. lifted up his mask to get his face buried in it, arched over you with a fat tongue thrumming on your achy nub while his lips sloppily encase you. saliva drips from his mouth down to your arms, stuttering out a mewl mixed with heady gasps, eyes slicking white.

“g-god, daddy — fuck!” crying out, you unintentionally move your hips which has you nearly rolling off the side of the bed, ghost catching you with a grunt before he’s repositioning you aggressively, his head spinning off the tart taste of you on his palate. you try to move away, the pleasure too intense.

“unh uh, don’t you fuckin’ run now. gimme those hips,” he grumbled, starved as he spanks you hard and yanks your hips back, holding them tight on either side with his dick jumping against your stomach as he sucks you up and all your giving him.

at this point you’re drooling, eyes descending to the back of your skull as you take every full-tongued lick, stomach twisting as you listen to how greedy he eats it, slurps it, beats it with fingers now to keep you open enough to take him — deep, ragged growls and hot swats on your ass. you cum, right then and there, and it knocks the air from your throat.

“c'mon doll, cum for me. let go."

“unngh, m’god — mmmnh!.”

you’re groaning out your noises, the intensity of it making your entire body tremble, humming and gyrating your hips out of frenzy. it’s too much, but it feels so good.

“yess, fuckin’ good girl. cum harder lil’ girl. want you full on creamy.”

fingers continue to shake and plunge inside you, your stomach folding inwards from his relentless hunger, eyes still turned out and mouth faltered with drool dribbling. “s-simonnn!” the wall of fantasy breaks and you can’t fucking think anymore, going into subspace and full on sobbing now, endorphins high and brain mushy. hiccuped screams bellowing out the quicker he finger fucks you. cum coating up to his knuckles before pulling them out and rubbing at your bud with all four fingers.

“i know pretty girl, i know, i know. doin’ so good.”

the sudden emptiness makes you clench for him to come back, the stimulation on your juicy clit causes you to sputter out little drops of liquid. it’s so pretty as he stares, watching in awe while you struggle to move, dampening the sheets.

then, his voice cuts through the haze, low and sharp. “look at me, ꒰ ♥︎ ꒱.”

doe eyes flutter open, glassy and unfocused. his face is hard in the dim light—jaw tight, pupils blown wide with lust. "did you cum too hard?" he checks in, your eyes drooped and face pouty like there’s nothing in your head. "hm, baby? answer. what’s your name?"

“꒰ ♥︎ ꒱,” you smile weakly. “and you’re simon.”

“yeah, i am,” he chuckles, caressing your cheek with a curled finger. “pretty thing, petal. pussy jus’ as sweet as you.”

“can you fuck my pussy, daddy?” you moan, batting lashes and biting swollen lips, still needing him. what he does to you can never be explained. “wan’ it.”

simon’s eyes say it all even if you couldn’t see his face. eyes darkening and remaining silent as he moves you around the bed, dick still standing hard.

he’d gotten a bit nicer to you by untying the ropes from your ankles so you’d have the ability to fully stretch and move your lower body. you sigh thankfully, doing side by side twists to crack your achy parts. simon holds on to you with fondness, this moment feeling intimate as he massages your waist and back.

“if you can’t take it anymore, you tell me, okay?” simon makes sure he’s stern on that as he aligns his dick with your opening, grabbing your ass and bringing you down on his dick from where he now lays underneath you.

“mhm,” nodding drunkenly, you melt into his touch as he holds you up by your shoulders, gasping as you split yourself open down on his dick ever so slowly, taking your time. it’s immediate when you moan together, simon’s eyes daunting under dark makeup, bushy brows furrowed and sharp hips rising up to meet you halfway with a weighty dick kissing you open.

“fuckin’ hell — yeah,” simon hisses, seeing the outline of his mouth fall open beneath his mask. you go to reach for it, pulling it up just enough to attach your lips for a kiss, missing it.

he chose to stay in character for you, even if you were the one to break first. darting out your tongue, you glide yours along his passionately slow, simon swatting your ass with a quick hand release before raising his hips to fuck up into you. your nails dig into your palms, arms still bound as you hold your mouth open on his to breathe and focus on how good he felt stretching you and fucking all the neediness away. you try your best to fuck him, too. wanting to give back to him as much as he’s given you.

“uh-huh, take it all in, swallow it up with your cunt,” simon exhales raggedly, your ass clapping down on his thighs faintly, though it’s not enough.

blurry eyes and shaky thighs not an excuse to him. giving him small rise and falls didn’t cut it.

“c’mon, c’mon. i don’t give a fuck,” simon grunts when you halt your bouncing, cracking a hand on your ass again. you’d surely have a welt tomorrow morning.

“ooo, baby, i’m g’na cum again!” you weep, tits bouncing in his face he goes to latch his mouth on to, sucking and pulling with hunger. you take every greedy, rough pound he gives to coax you into a proper fuck.

“not yet, you hold it till i get there. cummin’ all night, petal. gotta give some pussy to me, yeah? got s’much nut to give you.”

“i want your nut,” the sentence is slurred, simon holding your upper halve still so you wouldn’t fall while he applies a bit of force to drop you harder on his dick. “i want it, daddy.”

“want it where?” he grits, your ass now slamming down on his muscular thighs, wetness coating his groin, scooting your pussy on him to feel it hit that spot in you mixed with his pubic hairs brushing along your clit. “oh, fuck baby.”

“i w’na taste it,” whining, you lose yourself in grinding as you slouch lower, getting his dick in just the right angle to make you both feel good. simon chokes, holding his breath with a grunt, scooting your hips faster back and forth, back and forth.

“get it to the back of that needy throat?”

“yess, want it so bad, pleasepleaseplease.”

neither of you could control it. he’s growling like a feral animal while you whine and whimper like a broken toy. every push and pull drags you both out of mind.

“cum on it,” the baritone of his voice gets louder, wrapping a large forearm over your waist before slightly sitting up, spanking you and gripping your ass to lift up so he’s got enough room to sink deeper. his chest rises and falls, hitting his dick up to catch your rhythm. “ugh, fuck, fuck. cum onnit. fuckin’ cum on this big dick, baby.”

simon’s wheezing, the snag of your pussy knocking the fucking wind out of him, finding it difficult to catch a breath in this mask. he holds it just for you, so he can cum down your throat just like you want. he’s always g’na give you what you want. simon’s body is stiff as he keeps his composure, kissing you sloppy as you gush on his dick and fall weak, screaming into his neck where your face falls and you can’t stop from crying and swiveling your waist.

he doesn’t even bother telling you, lifting you up and laying you on the bed where your head hangs off the edge, simon’s bulky thighs on either side of your dizzy head as he fists his dick to shove it down your throat, bursting in a load of cum with the loudest, filthiest growl you’d ever heard. like a goddamn animal. his palm clutches your throat, thrusting deliberately slow to feel himself inside it.

“drink it, baby,” he hums, eyes rolled back and hips unable to stop moving. “fuck yes, all of it.”

and you do, every last drop. lips tight and cheeks sucked in as you clean him up well, simon patting your cheek as a reminder that you did a good job after he shifts back, dick taking it’s time going limp over your face as he calms himself.

“c’mere, doll.”

simon lifts you up in strong arms, yanking the balaclava off of his face showing disheveled brunette strands stuck to his forehead, kissing yours and taking you to the bathroom. he runs a nice, hot bath for you with bubbles and candles. makes sure he rubs you down good with shea butter so you wouldn’t scar anywhere, especially in areas where he found the rope to be too tight on your flesh. apologizing for it.

putting on sweats and a regular black tee, he’s grabbing his keys after you got comfy in bed, running out to get breakfast for you both while you rested off what you endured, dawn peaking through the curtains without both of your realization. he’d rest with you when he got back.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x black reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #ghost cod #cod smut #call of duty smut #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x black reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 🫙 ˚⊹ 𓊇ྀི

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lovieku · 2 days ago

Text

MY CUTIEFUL MISSIE!!!

you know if i’m back here it’s also thanks to you and the support you constantly give me, it’s precious precious gold to me and it’s made me realise i can make a space for myself if there’s someone like you by my side 🩷🥰

THANK U ALWAYS!!! 🩷

BEST MISTAKE ⋆ 정국

you've tried, but you can't help yourself from crushing on your best friend's dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter's birthday party, you don't expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.

repost. slightly edited. originally posted as OLDER.

⌗ from the grande series.

pairing: dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader

genre: smut, angst, dilf au, best friend's father au

warnings: porn with some lots of plot, age gap (oc 21 | jk 38), dom jk, sub reader, voyeurism, messy blow job, fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of tit play (small chested reader yayy), two (2) spanks, unprotected sex, cum eating, dirty talk, a bit of degradation, but also praise, pet names, ANGST :P, she falls first he falls harder??? but miscommunication sadly, forbidden love

word count: 17.4k

author’s note: wellll… hey people 🤭 guess who’s back! i don’t wanna make this long so i won’t say too much, we can take this to the inbox if u guys want 💋 for those who remember me, hello lovies!!! i’m thinking of reposting some of my old fics before giving you new content hehe ! special thanks to my day ones who fought hard and brought me here again even through my hesitation, you know who you are 🥰🩷 love u!!! enjoy!!!

In the backseat of his car, you stare forward at his hands gripping the steering wheel. There's something hypnotic about the way his fingers curl around the leather. You bite your lips, an attempt to suppress the heat easily pooling low in your belly, your thighs rubbing together to conceal the effects of your lewd thoughts.

One in particular stands out. It’s the one that puts a shameless, selfish smile on your face when you fixate on the fourth finger of his left hand lacking a gold band.

It's been a few months since that day — since Areum, your best friend, showed up at your door in a frantic state, her finger jabbing the bell over and over in a panicked rhythm that jolted you from your bed.

You had nearly tripped down the stairs in your rush to swing the entrance open, and when you did, you were instantly tackled by your friend collapsing into your arms, her tears soaking through your shirt.

Kicking the door shut, your hands busy embracing Areum with your eyes wide, you tried to steady both her and yourself. In between her uncontrollable sobs, shaking you to the core, she let her worries tumble out her mouth. Words came in a torrent, fast and breathless, barely giving you any time to fully process them as she buried her face in your neck.

It took a moment for the huge news to break through your thick, slowed down brain, but then it struck you, Areum chanting it repeatedly as if she couldn’t grasp her mind around it: her parents were splitting up. Divorce was imminent.

Your own disbelief mirrored hers, but for very different reasons. You felt it in the way your shock turned into excitement; indecorous, depraved exhilaration, with your heartbroken friend still in your arms.

Even as her sobs echoed, your mind latched onto one single thought, repeating like a mantra: he’s single. Mr. Jeon is single.

You felt terribly guilty when you sensed a smile that you couldn’t quite suppress stretching over your features, and the jittery sensation that came with it flowed your body and reached your hands, tightening harder around Areum to try and squeeze the shame out of yourself.

Since that day, you’ve lost count of how many afternoons you’ve spent at the Jeon’s house. You've been doing your best to be the friend Areum needs, to keep her company when what she fears the most is loneliness. You’ve been a constant presence, helping her through the mountain of neglected work she left piling up, distracting her with baking sessions, or mindlessly binge watching entire seasons of Friends on lazy evenings. Anything to keep her mind off the pain.

But each visit is an opportunity. A fleeting chance to see him. To study how he moves around the house with an intensity that still manages to feel like a calm, steady current filling every room.

You’ve memorized many of his mannerisms. The way his eyes soften when he looks at Areum; the way his mouth twitches into a faint smile when she tries to cheer him up; the way he nods at you in recognisment, silently letting you know he’s grateful for what you’re doing to help his daughter.

You wish you could help him too. In other ways. Ways you know you shouldn’t be thinking about.

You can’t avoid it, though. You've witnessed him come back home from work countless times now, watched the tension etched across his features as he steps through the door, wished you could be the one to ease it off his shoulders. Let your hand travel down his chest, reach his belt.

You feel disgusting unfailingly, but how can you not let your mind wander when he groans so deliciously every time he loosens the tie around his neck and kicks off his shoes?

You know exactly what his next move is, the imperceptible sigh melting the weariness off his face the moment he greets his daughter, a tender smile breaking through his exhaustion.

“Any requests for dinner tonight, girls?” He always asks, his gaze jumping between Areum and you on the living room couch, waiting for a response.

After your friend replies she likes whatever her daddy cooks, your stomach twists with nerves when his eyes meet yours to make sure there’s no complaints, and you quickly shake your head, biting your lips to keep from saying something foolish. Is your dick on the menu? Perhaps?

And the man can cook. Exceptionally well. He moves around the kitchen with purpose in his every movement, each dish you have the honor of tasting better than the last.

While you help setting the table, you catch yourself staring more times than you should. You can’t help but wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at. Fuck. Is there even a single flawed bone in this man’s body? With every day you spend at his house, you’re convinced there can’t be.

You want him to notice you, the same way you notice him. You tell yourself you’re just being a good friend to Areum, but you know there’s more behind your constant visits.

There’s definitely more behind the way your skirts get shorter, your tops tighter, your bras purposefully not worn.

You feel crazed when you convince yourself his gaze falls upon your exposed thighs when he puts a plate in front of you at dinner, or when his eyes seem to be caught, only for a fleeting second, by your hardened nipples, evident through your poor excuses of shirts.

Even when your interactions don’t go further than a brief exchange about college and Areum or quiet, polite smiles in passing, the mere thought of being around him sends a rush through your veins.

You’ve been seeking more and more of that after one particular night, your feet making their way down the stairs after Areum had fallen asleep and you had rathered take your leave. You found him stretched on the couch, a drink in his hand.

His eyes hazily followed your movements, voice low and slightly slurred, “Are you leaving already?”

Hearing him acknowledge you outside of the usual context of Areum’s presence made you stop dead in your tracks, your reddened cheeks turning to face him, the dark color spreading all over your features when you fully took him in.

He was cladded in a comfortable attire, one you almost never saw on him, black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt deliciously hugging his shoulders, the short sleeves revealing the intricate ink designs running all over his right arm.

You shook yourself out of your trance suddenly, stuttering, “Huh… yes. Didn’t wanna be a bother.”

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, “Oh, you’re not. I wish all of my daughter’s friends were like you.”

His words hung in the air, filling it with sincerity and a sudden tension landing right on your chest. You quickly brushed it away with a laugh, a nervous, shaky sound escaping your lips, trying to mask the way your heart was racing with desperation for the gods to grace you with the depth of his tipsy voice all night.

To this day, you still think your horny and delusional prayer was heard when he nodded to the empty space beside him, lifting his glass slightly, “Care for a drink? You’re 21 now, right?”

You only nodded shyly, more out of reflex than actual thought, slowly making your way to sit beside him just as he had instructed. The proximity sent a wave of heat through your body, your insides melting with the lava, the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent replacing the burned ground with a trail of flowers.

You were willing to do whatever he wanted from you at that moment, even if it meant downing the harsh liquor he poured into a glass for you. You took a sip, struggling not to grimace at the burn that followed. He smiled.

It was probably the alcohol loosening his tongue, but that night, for the first time, you saw a side of Mr. Jeon that he kept carefully hidden away, his vulnerability a strong characteristic of it.

His words tumbled out in an almost confessional tone. He spoke about his marriage, about how he had always felt somewhat trapped. Still a teenager himself, he was only 17 when he found out his soon to be wife was pregnant with Areum; 23 when they decided to marry. Voice soft but tinged with sadness, he admitted he never felt like he got to live his youth to the fullest, certainly blessed with his perfect baby, but also chained down by responsibilities and a tightening pressure he shouldn’t have had to deal with at such a young age.

Then, with his eyes burning into your shiny and equally flaring ones, he paused just for a moment, and you felt he could see right through you, into the very core of your being. That he had you all figured out.

“When I look at you,” he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, gaze traveling down your bare thighs, squished together on his couch, “I feel like I get a bit of that youth back. You're so full of life, so fresh, so… full of love for my daughter. I'm glad she has you. Glad we have you.”

As he found your orbs again, you noticed his had significantly darkened. You were sure your heart would have failed you if you had kept navigating in his gaze; instead, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.

That night, he paid for your uber and insisted you sent him a text when you made it home. It was only read the morning after, and left unanswered.

Even now, you’re convinced that if it weren’t for the whisky, those words would have stayed locked away in his mind, never seeing the light of day. Not even if he were forced to speak them at gunpoint.

Still, you’re grateful for the magical effects of alcohol and how they’ve brought you a tiny bit closer to give a look into his complicated world. It has awakened something in you, which led you to the conclusion that you always want to be there for him. Help him through the doubts and regrets. Be the youth he missed. Take the weight off his shoulders. Let him use you on that couch.

That feral, undomesticated monster inside you is a hundred times hungrier when, exiting the library building with Areum by your side, babbling in your ear about today’s plans, you see his sleek Mercedes parked outside.

He honks, getting his daughter’s attention too, who excitedly walks over the car when she spots it. The sound works as a pavlovian trigger for you, it has your mouth salivating and your senses alert, catching up with your friend and getting in the backseat.

It has been a few weeks since you last saw him, both you and Areum too busy with assignments and outside activities, and his charming smile as he asks about the day cuts the breath from your lungs.

You’re silent as your friend fills him in, your ears struggling to pick up her speech as it only takes a few more seconds for your eyes to be caught by an interesting detail, one that has your world rocked: he finally took his wedding ring off.

The wedding ring that has stood as an unspoken boundary between you and your reckless fantasies is gone. The realization hits hard, and suddenly your mind veers into dangerous territory, conjuring visions that feel too real. You can almost feel his left hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you in, claiming you. And the images are so vivid, so consuming, that you don’t even notice when Areum nudges your shoulder.

You don’t register her calling your name until the sound finally cuts through, pulling you back to the present with a jolt. You blink a few times, trying to ground yourself, before turning to face her, Areum’s voice light but her expression amusedly curious, “Dad asked you a question.”

Your whole face drops, panic clear in your features, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks. You've been zoning out, lost in a daydream about the very man sitting in front of you, the one you literally just ignored, too busy thinking of him. The irony is almost too much.

Your eyes find his in the rearview mirror, and the slight smirk on his lips only makes you look even dumber, stuttering all throughout your explanation, “Sorry, Mr. Jeon. I— um. I was distracted.”

He simply chuckles, low and clearly not offended by your lapse in attention. His focus is back on the road, but as he speaks you keep yours on the words he’s directing at you this time, “It’s okay. And I always tell you, just Jeongguk is fine. I was asking about your day, you seem a little worn out.”

“Oh. I—it went well! I guess I'm just a bit tired,” the words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you hope they sound convincing enough. You just can’t stop your eyes from falling on his left hand.

“Well, you can’t be!” It’s Areum’s excitement interrupting your furious imagination and bubbling over, “You need to help me set up for tonight. Then, we’re gonna do our makeup, our hair, and dress up. I'm so excited!”

Right. The reason why you could finally see Mr. Jeon after weeks and why you’re currently driving to his house is because it’s Areum’s birthday.

The day feels significant in so many ways. You're excited to witness your best friend turn a year older, especially with all the hardships she’s been faced with. Honored that you’re the one she’s chosen to help make this night perfect, ensure every detail is just how she’s pictured this moment to be like. And you can’t deny that you feel slightly nervous at the prospect of tonight, knowing there are going to be faces you’re not that well acquainted with. You'd say you’re a bit awkward with new people, but you’ll try to bear through it for the sake of Areum’s happiness.

But mostly, you feel guilty. Because no matter how much you try to focus on your friend, the thought that truly makes your insides all mushy with fuzziness is the fact that you’re going to be in the proximity of her dad, again.

You crave for the smallest moments. The brief second where you’ll catch his gaze. The way his cologne will subtly linger in the hallways of his home. Your eyes have a habit of drifting to his hands, those strong, veined, tattooed hands that move so smoothly whenever he speaks.

Even now, in his car, as you glance at his side profile, there’s a ridiculous and almost cosmic sense of gratitude. Like you’ve been chosen. Blessed by whatever God to exist on this planet at the same time as him, to simply witness his presence.

It should be enough. It really should. But you’re a sinner. You're greedy, wanting more. Always more.

That buzzing sensation sticks with you throughout the entire day, hours packed with anxious over-organization, both you and Areum moving as if every step had to be executed flawlessly. And with all the chaos, he’s there in the back of your mind. Mr. Jeon.

He helps for a while, joining you in the backyard as you set up for the evening, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the whirlwind around you. But then he disappears into his studio, into his own space, leaving you to your tasks, and you don’t see him until hours later.

Yet, you still feel him, as if he’s always near. His upstairs studio’s window faces the garden, and it’s enough to make you hyper-aware of your every gesture. You straighten your back, slow your steps. Because even though you don’t know if he’s really watching, it feels like he is.

Getting your makeup, hair and outfit ready with Areum does slightly ease that sensation off your chest. You love these moments with her. Shared girlhood when you do each other’s eyeliner, the flutter of excitement as you zip up dresses, as you rummage through her closet, searching for the perfect piece to complete your look.

But even then, you’re brought back to the man working just a few rooms down the hallway. It's astonishing how easily Areum has access to everything she wants. The power her dad holds, the kind of wealth that makes life feel effortless in ways you can’t help but envy. For her, money isn’t just something that buys things. It shapes her world. It’s as simple as snapping her fingers.

You don’t resent her for it, not really. But it makes you wonder what it would be like to live in a world where nothing is out of reach. Where everything, even the man who haunts your thoughts, could be yours with the right words or a simple gesture.

When you see him again, you’re standing in his kitchen. Areum is still upstairs, fixing the tiniest details to her makeup, but you decided to come down early, just in case the first guests arrive, wanting to be helpful, wanting to keep yourself busy.

You’re momentarily lost in the view outside the window, the backyard garden bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights, soft hues blending beautifully with the sage and pastel yellow decorations. It pulls a small smile to your face, knowing your hard work paid off.

The quiet peace is soon interrupted by the sound of a cupboard cracking open behind you, and you startle, your heart giving a quick jump.

You turn, following the noise, and there he is — Jeongguk, bent over as he retrieves a bottle of red wine from the lower cupboard. As he straightens up, bottle in hand, he finds your eyes already staring in his. He's uncharacteristically deliberate as he lets his gaze wander up and down your figure.

You’ve dressed carefully for tonight, choosing a flowy pink dress that flutters delicately against your thighs. The corset top hugs your waist in all the right ways, accentuating your shape. It’s the kind of dress that makes you feel just a little more confident, a little more seen.

But now, under his gaze, you feel rather exposed, as if he’s seeing more than just the fabric of your dress. His eyes linger, and when his orbs dip to your chest, it’s almost as if he hesitates, like he’s trying to tear his eyes away but can’t.

You’re not even sure if the engrossed look on his face is real or just the product of your own twisted fantasies.

Still, your body responds instinctively, your hand drifting up to play with your necklace, an unconscious gesture, while your other arm wraps around your waist, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together under the intensity of his stare.

When his eyes return to your wide ones, he gives a subtle nod towards your dress, and although the smile that curves his lips is warm you can’t decipher that something else it wants to communicate.

His voice is smooth, literal honey, sweet and rich, dripping out from his pillowy lips, “What a beauty. You look very pretty.”

Now, you weren’t expecting that. It steals the breath from your lungs. It's not just the words, or even the way he says them, velvet wrapping around your senses. It’s how he seems to drink you in, his refined wine nothing in comparison. Like you’re something to be savored just as carefully.

At this point, you’re seriously questioning if there was a stronger substance in the liquor you and Areum shared earlier, even if you hadn’t taken big quantities. But you figure it must have been enough to distort the current reality around you. Or maybe, Mr. Jeon is the inebriated one.

You don't know how you find the voice to speak, or if you even do, the word escaping your lips in an uncoordinated mess, almost imperceptible, “Thanks.”

He hums deeply in response, and it vibrates through the space between you. You let out a shaky exhale the moment his gaze finally shifts away. He resumes the task at hand, effortlessly opening the bottle of wine and turning his back to you as he reaches for a glass from the higher cabinet.

The muscles in his shoulders shift under his shirt, and for a split second, you’re unsure what to do. Whether to stay, add anything else, flee the room entirely. Make small conversation about Areum’s birthday. Comment on his look, too. Oh, you’d have a lot to say about it.

You can tell he just wrapped up his work-related tasks for today from the way the first three buttons of his white shirt are opened, revealing his deep cleavage. His hair slightly tousled, but in a way that looks perfectly intentional, unintentionally. His slacks hug him deliciously, rounding the curve of his ass and making you swallow hard.

Your eyes can’t resist trailing over him, but they quickly move up to stare at the ceiling, feigning deep thought when he turns back to face you and the counter.

Surprisingly, he’s the one to break the silence first, again. The rich sound fills the air as he pours his red wine, the motion so precise, so fluid, it feels like witnessing an authentic art form.

He doesn’t bother looking up at you as he asks, seemingly casual, but slightly amused, “Is there a boy you’re trying to impress tonight?”

The way he steers the conversation makes you less agitated, suddenly confident. Especially with the question thrown your way. Teasing, almost belittling. You can see he’s not even trying to hide his pretty smirk, his focus on the wine flowing into the glass.

The question lingers, and you twirl your necklace around your fingers, smoothing down your dress with your other hand, your eyes flitting to his naked left hand, “Mh… you could say so.”

Of course, you’re not thinking about a boy. Mr. Jeon is no boy — he’s a man. The kind women dream about but know they’ll never find. The kind that belongs on the big screen or in the pages of a novel, with his effortless charm, wealth, looks that stop you in your tracks.

But he’s in front of you. And he’s tall, muscular, with hands that could crush or caress, tattooed in a way that makes your mouth dry up and water all at once.

It’s him you want to impress. You want to affect him the way he affects you. You want to pull him in, make him look at you the way he makes your world tilt on its axis with just a glance.

You’re hypnotized as you witness him in one of his rich man activities, performing a ritual with the wine glass. He brings it to his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the aroma. It’s sensual, the way he handles the glass, its liquid dancing with precision, as if even this simple act holds meaning. You can’t look away.

When he's satisfied, he finds you again, and your mouth is slightly open without you even realizing it. The moment he lifts the glass to his lips, you bite your own, almost harshly, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

His smile is soft. He must know exactly what he’s doing to you.

Jeongguk mutters into the glass, his words resounding even stronger, “Well, he’d be a fool not to fall for you.”

The implications of his comment make you swallow audibly, while he downs his first sip of the wine with fine ease, his Adam's apple bobbing with it. The whole time, his eyes never leave yours.

A thick silence stretches between you, and you wish you could break it but you don’t know how. Your mind spins with the unspoken tension, instead he seems entirely comfortable with it. He places the glass back on the counter, the soft clink of it slicing through the quiet. Smoothly, he nudges it in your direction, his movements slow, as if testing the waters.

His voice is inviting, even more than usual, “You want to try?”

”Is that wine?” You instantly cringe at the way you sound strained.

He hums, a low sound of affirmation, watching you carefully. You briefly glance at the glass, "I've never had it.”

”Have it, then.”

With a slow twist of his fingers around the base, he slides the glass toward you. As it moves across the marble surface, you notice how he rotates it imperceptibly, but purposefully, so that the side where his lips touched the rim is now facing you. The gesture is subtle, but the intent behind it is clear. At least to your deranged fantasies.

There’s a faint lip mark where his mouth had been, and the sight of it pulls you in, making your pulse pound in your ears. You look back up at him, finding his gaze still on you, expression unreadable.

Without a word you lift the glass, your fingers wrapping clumsily around its stem. You bring it to your lips, mouth closing over the spot his lips had just pressed on.

The wine hits your tongue — bitter, sharp, and unfamiliar. You gulp hard, the liquid burning slightly as it slides down your throat. Your face scrunches involuntarily; the richness of the flavor is too much for you, and you can’t help but grimace as the aftertaste lingers.

He watches, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. When you set the glass down, he effortlessly picks it back up and brushes his fingers across the rim.

His tone laced with amusement, he asks, “Love it?”

You shake your head quickly, trying to hide your discomfort.

His chuckle is low, a soft rumble that makes your stomach flip. Swirling the wine gently, he muses, "I heard there’s going to be alcohol tonight.”

You grumble lightly, slumping your shoulders, “Ugh, I know.”

The endearment rolls off his tongue like a secret meant just for you, his voice dipping into something softer, more intimate, “Make sure you don’t drink too much, pretty face. I'll be around.”

Just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your thoughts spinning. Pretty face?

What just happened? You're not so sure, but eyeing the glass left alone on the counter, you impulsively grab it and decide to gulp its remnants down, groaning immediately after. Taking wine as a shot might not have been the best idea, but you’re certainly going to need all the possible devices to shake this feeling off.

It’s hard to do so, even as the birthday party kicks off. The energy in the backyard shifts as more guests arrive. Lively voices and unfamiliar faces begin to fill the space. Areum’s laughter cuts through the hum, infectious and bright, drawing everyone in. With your best efforts, you start engaging with others, smiling as you talk to some classmates and mutual friends, but it’s all surface-level. Your mind is elsewhere.

It's only later, as the evening progresses and the party settles into a rhythm, that you begin to relax. Mainstream music plays in the background and it inevitably involves everybody, some classic party games becoming the main entertainment.

Long after the cake and the gift-opening, the group gathers into a loose circle, throwing each other Never Have I Ever questions. You can’t help the way you all are still too young, and how you still get foolishly excited whenever the topic turns hot and hints at anything that is sex related. Childish and immature, you know, but your ears still perk when the first probing question is tossed out.

“Never have I ever been fingered.”

Areum instantly shushes it, her eyes panickedly looking back to the house in hopes her dad isn’t around. laughter bubbles just as quickly, both because of the question and the girl’s reaction.

As expected, many reach for their drink, and you do too. The few present boys holler in a teasing manner, gaining some eye rolls.

Sheepishly, the plastic cup touches your lips and you take the smallest sip of your punch. You can’t appear unbothered like your other peers, your cheeks subtly flaming as the embarrassing memories rush to your mind.

It’s silent, the small plea you telepathically send to anyone that might be listening. You pray for the topic to shift to something else, something that won’t inevitably put you at the center of the attention. Something you can relate to.

But of course, God is not on your side. The questions only dig deeper, wandering in uncharted territory (at least for you), and you never reach for your glass again.

You can only sink further in your chair the more everybody else around you seems even more lively with the way the game has turned, sharing their experiences, giggling as they listen and refill their cups. Beside you Areum buzzes with energy, and every question is just something for her to drink to, nothing that shocks her or that she isn’t familiar with.

Never have I ever given head.

Never have I ever been ate out.

Never have I ever rode someone.

It’s undeniable, your skin heating up. With how you’ve been spending your whole day, fantasizing about the man who’s probably already asleep in his bedroom by now, your friends sharing their adventures only fuels your imagination. You feel dirty when you put yourself in those scenarios, and for every daring moment they relive, the figure that appears beside you is always Mr. Jeon.

If only you turned your head, just for a moment, and glanced toward the kitchen window that faces the backyard, you would have seen the same man dominating your thoughts, staring intently at the scene unfolding outside.

Jeongguk is swallowed wholly by the darkness of the house, every light turned off. Maybe that’s why neither you nor Areum notice him.

You don’t see him. For once, you don’t feel him. You’re too caught up in the moment, too consumed by your own desires, unaware that the man that put you in that same condition is standing so close, watching.

Jeongguk intently studies how your face dips down at every new question, how your smile seems just a little too tight, too forced when listening to the stories, the ones that make you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

If you don’t notice it, he does almost immediately — the moment the attention in the circle shifts toward you.

The glances thrown your way become layered with a subtle curiosity, laced with something that looks like concern. But then, in the eyes of a few, Jeongguk catches a faint trace of judgment. It’s there, in the tilt of their heads, in the exchanged fleeting looks with one another, as if they sense your uneaseness and interpret it as something lesser. Something they can pick apart.

His jaw tightens as he observes, that familiar protective instinct stirring within him. It makes his hands twitch by his side, but he stays rooted in place.

Eventually, the moment you clearly seem to dread the most (it doesn’t take a genius to know. It’s written on your face. Or maybe, he got so used to studying you. It comes easy to him. Knowing you,) follows.

It makes you want to vanish into the thin air caressing your legs, how you can sense that the question is put out with intent, an only pretending-to-be-careful tone wrapping it, all pairs of eyes instantly directed in your direction.

“Never have I ever… had sex.”

You feel trapped, a momentary panic bubbling in your chest as you reach for your cup, hesitant. The rim hovers near your lips and you try avoiding every expectant glance, taking the smallest sip you can manage.

A murmur ripples through the circle. You can’t decipher it, too busy feeling the heat spread across your face. It's only later that you realize no one else drank. The question had been crafted specifically for you, a test.

Lara exhales, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “Woah, I was getting worried for a second there, ___.”

You barely have time to react before Areum steps in, her voice sharp in your defense, “What’s wrong with never having had sex, either way?”

“Nothing, but—”

You’re not sure why you speak, and why you choose your speech that way specifically. You cut in before you even realize what you’re doing, driven by a sudden urge to explain yourself, an unshakable need to clarify forcing itself up your throat, "I only took a small sip, though.”

The group’s collective curiosity spikes, attention zeroed in on you like never before. You feel it — everyone waiting for you to continue, to reveal something you’ve kept to yourself until now. So, you give in, words tumbling out against your better judgment.

You clear your throat, straighten your back against the chair, your tone evasive, “I technically am not a virgin, but… When we— did it, he um… he got his tip in, but— God, this is embarrassing.”

“C’mon, tell us!”

You sigh, pressing forward with an explanation they do not deserve, “He came, like, two seconds after. So, I felt nothing.”

The laughter that erupts is immediate, your friends covering their mouths in shock and amusement. You can only chuckle nervously, shrinking in your seat with a deep, liberating exhale.

Yunjin pats your shoulder beside you, “That’s so sad, babe. We need to find you a real man.”

A strange sense of relief courses through you, the adrenaline from finally being acknowledged and validated by your friends swelling within. You don’t know why, but you keep talking, oversharing, feeding into the newfound attention, “Oh, I've been waiting for one in particular.”

You quickly become the center of attention for different reasons than the previous ones, now. Voices overlap, but you dismiss them all with a playful shake of your head, giggles bubbling up as you try to evade their questions.

But just as quickly as the moment came, it fades when you glance to the side, and your smile drops.

Jeongguk’s eyes meet yours immediately.

The intensity of the gaze knocks the breath from your lungs, and you immediately straighten in your seat.

He’s been watching the entire time, arms crossed, muscle in his jaw tensing as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. There’s an unusual frustration etched into his expression, a subtle irritation with your friends’ behavior. But it’s more than that.

Your confession had softly revealed your inexperience. Your innocence. The untarnished parts of you he’s only beginning to realize he wants to corrupt.

Truth is, he’s known for a long time. Longer than he’d like to admit, really. But he’s never let himself feel it fully until now. It wasn’t something that hit him all at once. No, it crept up on him slowly, over the months. He’s always known you were beautiful, in that distant, untouchable way. You’re his daughter’s best friend, after all.

But he couldn’t help his eyes from lingering on you a little too long when you’d come over to hang out with Areum, how he’d feel the tension of his work day melt when he’d let himself be coddled by the warmth of your helping actions, the way his muscles would instead tense when he’d catch sight of you lounging by the pool.

He’d been good at keeping it under bay. But you weren’t subtle, not even the slightest, and it all made it harder. Even more when you’ve been nothing but the proof that angels exist, and at some point he convinced himself you were sent on Earth to fill the void he felt his whole life, with your unconditional care towards his daughter and your pupils widening whenever they’d land on his.

Maybe it was seeing you tonight, all grown up and standing there in that dress, hugging your figure deliciously. How you carried yourself, confident yet unsure, mature yet untouched.

Hearing you talk about your inexperience, about that brief, awkward encounter with a boy who clearly didn’t know what he was doing. Watching you squirm under your friends’ teasing questions, witnessing how you tried to explain yourself.

It’s like it all clicks into place for him. And for the first time, he’s letting himself acknowledge it.

Jeongguk wants you.

He knows it’s wrong. So wrong. He's never felt this way about someone so much younger than him, and yet, the need to be the first one to truly touch you, to show you what it means to be wanted by a real man, makes his blood run hot.

Yet, he feels disgusting. Selfish, his stomach swirling with nerves. Dirty, his fingers twitching and begging to free his insides from such feelings.

There’s simply no ignoring it anymore, no pretending like you’re just Areum’s friend. That boundary he set in his mind is starting to blur. He's old enough to know better, but old enough to know exactly what he wants.

Your eyes widen with terror, meeting Jeongguk’s own hardened gaze. He wants to tell you, wants you to know, but the way your startled expression lingers in his narrowed eyes makes him hesitate.

The contact is abruptly interrupted when one of Areum’s friends, an older kid she’s met through her dad’s colleague, crashes into you from behind, draping his weight over your shoulders.

You struggle not to stumble forward, holding yourself on the arms of your chair while you look to the side, and immediately try to pull away when you realize the unwanted proximity.

But you’re weaker than the boy’s embrace, holding you still and wiggling his eyebrows, his tone playful as he ruffles your hair, “Is it me?”

The people around you laugh, but the way your body stiffens, the clear discomfort in your eyes — Jeongguk notices. And he also notices (reluctantly) the ugly feeling making space in his stomach the more that guy’s face moves closer to yours. His jaw twitches, the muscle at his temple ticking.

He can’t just stand there doing nothing anymore.

The sudden sound of the door to the garden opening catches everyone’s attention, and your gaze flies over in that direction.

Jeongguk steps out, presence commanding, and Areum’s eyes grow wide, instantly sensing something wrong in the way her father is looking at the scene. His eyes are too dark, too sharp, and if no one else detects it, you and his daughter surely do.

Still, the taller boy behind you moves up again, taking a step back from your seat, and Jeongguk seems to reserve him a look you find hard to decipher.

“Areum,” he calls, soft but firm. She’s quick to move toward him, and you can’t help but try to listen in on what he’s saying to her.

But the voices rise again, loud and boisterous, filling the space with chatter, drowning out any chance you had of overhearing. You sigh, returning to your slumped position on the chair. As you do, you can’t ignore how all the girls around you are sneaking glances at him, their giggles piercing through the air as they whisper among themselves.

Jeongguk has always had a certain effect on people, and tonight is no different. You hear some of their comments, but they don’t fully register in your mind. All you can focus on is the bitter feeling rising in your chest.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. It sickens you, the way you have to share the image of him with everyone else. You wish only your eyes had been granted the gift of looking at him, of admiring the way his shirt stretches across his chest or how his hair falls perfectly, even when tousled. Instead, he’s a spectacle for everyone to enjoy, and you hate it.

When Areum returns, it’s with a slightly slumped posture and her energy deflated. Behind her, Mr. Jeon stands with his arms crossed, a small, condescending smile tugging at his lips.

Areum’s voice is low as she announces, “The party’s over, guys.”

The subtle groans of disappointment echo around you as your friends gather their things, saying their goodbyes and slowly trickling out, only after trying to argue about it, giving up when met with no possible negotiation. Once the last guest has left, it’s just the three of you, left to clean up the remnants of the night in the dimly lit garden.

The air is tense on your skin. You can feel it in every movement, every glance that passes between you and Jeongguk, though he barely looks at you now. His focus is elsewhere. On the mess, on Areum, on anything but you. It’s silent for a while as each one of you picks up their own task. Teamwork seems to be efficient, every area of the backyard slowly regaining its original aspect.

Until Areum yawns dramatically, stretching her arms above her head as she makes her way over to you and her father. She mumbles, blinking heavily. "’M so sleepy."

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. He teases lightly, voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "Oh, really? You’re just gonna leave all this mess behind?"

For a moment, you and Areum both freeze, glancing at each other with wide eyes, unsure if he’s serious. However, you don’t seem to notice Jeongguk’s lips curling into a soft, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Just kidding,” he chuckles, tone warm now, the joke clear. “Go sleep, c’mon. It’s past your bedtime.”

Areum sighs with exaggerated relief, rolling her eyes before stepping forward to wrap her arms around her dad in a loose hug. She mumbles into his chest, “I’m not a kid anymore, dad. I don’t have a bedtime.”

He chuckles with a lightness foreign to you until that moment, and he leans down, pressing his lips gently to the top of her head, voice a low and tender whisper, “Whatever you say. Happy birthday, Reumie.”

It’s such a simple moment, nothing grand or elaborate. Still, you watch them with stars in your eyes, completely captivated by this rare portrayal of vulnerability from Mr. Jeon. You almost feel like an intruder, yet you keep contradicting yourself when you can’t help but want to be part of it, too. Want to bask in his love, the one he keeps hidden but the same one that shapes him whole. That fills him from head to toe, never spilling, always quiet. Makes him the brave man you only know through your best friend’s admiring eyes, never from his words.

He doesn’t like talking about himself, but you’d kill to know what truly goes through his mind, even for just a second. You’d gladly settle in a cramped house in his brain, pay rent and everything.

When Areum finally pulls away and turns to you, her expression sleepy but content, she asks, “You coming with me?”

You hesitate, glancing at the mess still surrounding you. You speak with a small, reassuring smile, only looking at your friend, “I'll be there in a minute. I wanna help clean up first.”

She just shrugs, too tired to argue, and heads inside. Jeongguk's eyes follow her briefly before flicking back to you.

His lips part as if he wants to say something. Maybe to insist that there’s no need to help, that you should join Areum inside and get a good night's sleep. But the words never come. Instead, he watches you silently for a second longer, before turning his attention back to the garden.

Now, it’s just the two of you.

The quiet between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. The subtle hum of the night seems louder now without the chatter of party guests, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze fills the air as you move around the small round tables, readjusting the chairs.

You’re trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind keeps drifting to other regions. In your distraction, you clumsily trip over your own feet, your breath catching as you stumble forward.

Before you can fall, though, a strong hand grips your arm, steadying you instantly.

“Oops. Careful, little one,” it’s Jeongguk’s deep voice murmuring close to your ear, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

Your face flushes immediately, heat spreading across your cheeks and down your neck. “Sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him through your lashes, feeling ridiculously small under his intense gaze.

“It’s okay,” he instantly replies, tone so gentle it almost makes your heart falter.

Silence falls again, but this time, it’s thicker, and maybe even uncomfortable. You both remain still for a moment, his hand loosely gripping your arm, and you feel yourself burn where his fingers rest. His thumb brushes your skin lightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture, but it’s enough to make you gulp audibly.

Finally, he releases you, stepping back slightly, but his eyes never leave yours, "Thanks for making my daughter happy today. I really appreciate that. I appreciate you."

Your mind races, trying to find the right words to respond, but all you can manage is a stutter, “Oh. I—”

His voice is firmer when he gently cuts you off, “Go sleep now. I'll finish here.”

You want to protest, but the way he’s looking at you — dark eyes locking onto yours, holding you in place even with his hand now by his side — makes it impossible.

There’s something about the way he’s speaking, like he’s being careful with his words, almost spelling them out, making sure you’re paying attention to each one, “If you need anything, you know where to find me. Yeah?”

You swallow hard, nodding slowly. His gaze is unwavering, and it feels like he’s saying something more than just the words themselves, something you can’t quite grasp yet. You stammer, “Right. Yes. I—I’ll… goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

It’s not exactly a good night for you. In a sense, maybe it is. You always welcome dreams like these when they decide to visit. But right now, it feels more than a little awkward.

Worst timing ever. You’re lying next to Areum, the daughter of the very man who’s making you wet with just a few flashes of imagery dancing behind your closed eyelids.

At first, it’s soft, almost serene. You see a beach, engulfed in warm, blurry tones that blend together like watercolors left to bleed in the sun. The sea is flat, unmoving, and glimmers like pearls under the flaming light.

A weight presses down on your exposed thigh. The sensation feels so vivid that it pulls you deeper into the dream, and as you glance down, you instantly recognize the large, familiar hand resting there.

Jeongguk's hand. His left one. On the fourth finger, a gold ring.

When you lift your head, his face greets you with a wide, unusual smile. His hair is wet, slicked back as if he’s just come out of the water, droplets clinging to the tips. He bites his lip, and you see it. A double piercing sits on the side of his mouth, the silver studs gleaming as he plays with them using the tip of his tongue. Your breath catches in your throat. You don’t just see it there. On his eyebrow, a matching piercing catches the sunlight, giving him a rebellious edge.

You remember them from old pictures Areum showed you once. Jeongguk, in his younger days, rougher, wilder, and undeniably charming.

It must have left a deep impression on you because your subconscious has dug it up now, weaving it into this dream. Deep in your slumber, you unconsciously whine.

His hand kneads the soft skin of your leg, and his grin stretches wider, eyes crinkling into familiar crescents, but with an edge you’ve never seen on him before.

"You wanna take another bath?" His voice is husky in your ear, filled with suggestion. He's leaning in now, closer, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin. Before you can say anything, his hand slides higher, fingers grazing the hem of your swimsuit. "Come on. Just you and me."

Jeongguk’s hand is still playing with the laces of your bikini, and he’s slow and teasing as he pulls one of them. When he fully undoes it, you’re bare in front of him.

But he doesn’t look down just yet. He keeps staring in your eyes, his smile gone now, replaced with something more serious, more focused.

Jeongguk leans closer to your ear, pillowy lips brushing your lobe, and it feels way too real when he whispers, “Let me make you feel good.”

It’s with a jolt that you wake up, the low sound still echoing in the depths of your brain, and you struggle to take in your surroundings at first. On your right, Areum is sleeping soundly, even snoring softly. You'll tease her about it in the morning.

If the thought initially puts a smile on your face, it morphs into a frown when you register the reason why you’re now awake, and you brim with guilt. You have to get away from your best friend. Need to get away from your brain, if possible. Wash it all with a glass of cold water.

You make sure not to cause too much noise as you slowly sit up, the covers falling from your figure and the air welcoming you with goosebumps on your skin. Your naked feet tentatively touch the ground and you force yourself to stand on them, padding on the floor and exiting the room, gently closing the door behind your shoulders.

At first, you only hear it. Faint, muffled noises; fussing; heavy panting; groans.

You blink rapidly, convinced your hazy brain is still cozily wrapped around the blankets, finding it hard to let go of the images that had flashed behind your eyelids and adapt to the new state of consciousness.

But as you make your way to the stairs, the sounds get closer, and more vivid. It's not just your mind playing evil games anymore.

It’s shushed moans, and eager whines. And they seem awfully close to how you’d always imagined Mr. Jeon would sound like. In that situation.

Having lost control over your own brain a long time ago, it feels like you’re now being ordered around by it, no freedom of choice whatsoever.

Your feet move on their own, following the source of that delicious music, and you swear your eyes get teary with joy when you find that the door was left ajar.

You feel delirious. The small gap is more than enough to give you a view into what you never thought you’d have the honor of witnessing: the man of all your desires has his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing it, then dragging it up and down in slow movements that you just know are torturing him, from the way he harshly bites his lower lip, to the way his furrowed eyebrows almost meet at the bridge of his nose, eyes focused on his doings.

Nonetheless, he loves it. His mouth opens every time he brushes the tip of his thick dick with his palm, releasing small whines, followed by quiet moans when he uses his other hand to play with his balls.

He cusses repeatedly, then grips his base and halts his movements. Only to go over the punishing pattern again, bringing himself closer to the edge then retraining when he feels like stepping over it.

The sight of Mr. Jeon edging himself makes your knees weak. It takes over you physically, you genuinely have to find support in the wall beside you.

You need to be there with him. You need it to be your hand; need him to guide it just the way he likes it; need him to teach you how to please him. His groans make your head spin, and you need to get closer.

You’re not thinking when you instinctively take a step towards the slightly open door, but when you do, the floor cracks under you.

You’re paralysed. In the silence of the house, wrapped in night time, the otherwise small sound is amplified, and he stops his hand.

With the little power you still possess over your actions, you move your back to the wall beside the door. Your breaths are ragged, too overwhelmed with the mixture of fear and lust, and you think of running away to hide but a huge weight is chaining you down, and you find yourself unable to move.

You can only register fussing from the other side, the soft thump of his feet on the floor and the door opening alarmingly. When he looks to the side, he’s met with his expression mirrored on your small face, your eyes wide but willing themselves to keep looking in his.

If you were to look down, you’re not sure you could keep yourself composed, knowing his cock is hard and unattended in his pajama pants.

“____? What are you doing up?” His voice quickly takes on the calm that characterizes him so well, instilling some of it in your startled figure.

Still, you stutter all throughout your answer, making it clear what you just spied into with the way your face changes color, “I— Water. I wanted— There’s no, huh, water in the fridge.”

Mr. Jeon does a weak job at hiding the confused amusement on his features. Nonetheless, he nods, a small grin on his lips while he says nothing, just walks to the stairs and makes his way down them. You follow hastily, careful not to trip.

There's plenty of water in the fridge, but he doesn’t question it. He takes out a bottle and pours a glass for you, sliding it over the counter.

You take the smallest sip, afraid you might choke with the way he stands facing you, staring so intensely into your orbs.

When you put the still full glass down, he smirks. You see his hands gripping the edge of the table in front of him, “Nightmare?”

The depth of his voice translates into heat pooling right in your lower stomach and staining your shorts. You're a mess just from the blurred sight of him. You shake your head, “More like… a weird dream.”

He smiles taut, having to break the prolonged eye contact and look elsewhere, his grip getting tighter and his patience wearing thin.

He won’t be able to control himself much longer if he doesn’t get out of this kitchen, especially with the effects of your effortless charm flooding down his pleading dick.

You’re in front of him, eyes fond with a feeling that scares him, only the counter dividing your bodies, and you’re wearing the tiniest satin shorts paired with a white tank top that leaves little to the imagination, the cut dangerously low and your nipples evident through the material.

He’s a gone man.

His eyes no longer anchoring you, your gaze automatically travels to where you shouldn’t be looking, for your own sanity. The outline of his cock is so delicious, it makes your mouth water with want.

You’re not sure if it’s your own eyes deceiving you, but you swear you can see it throb, and at that moment you realize he’s not wearing any underwear. Just thin, loose pants covering his length.

You gulp, clenching around nothing. You feel him sigh, and the sound makes your head spin with greater force.

He looks back at you, but you’re too enthralled by your current view, the effects of it almost completely shutting out your hearing and your rational thinking, as you round the counter and leave his words hung in the air, "I'm sorry for… what you probably saw. Should’ve closed the door.”

Apology silently dismissed, or simply ignored (why would he even apologize for blessing you with such an unforgettable sight?) you now stand next to him. As he turns to you, you’re faced with his chest, and you have to bend your head upwards to meet his curious eyes.

Your body has long forgotten to trust the thin amount of rationality that could still be found in your brain, and that’s how you find yourself leading your hand to cup his cock through his pajamas.

His face is stoic, staring at you intensely. He doesn’t startle, doesn’t gasp, doesn’t move away. But you feel him. If the contact does something to him, he doesn’t show it. He keeps looking down at you, in your eyes.

Then, he speaks, his voice steady, “What are you doing.”

You’re suddenly aware of your actions, and you fall victim to them, feeling small because of his stern, composed gaze while you feel like melting under it.

Your voice is frail, barely a whisper, too weak to sound as convinced as you truly are, and your words come out slurred, “Wanna help you.”

He doesn’t break, doesn’t seem affected by your desperation, but his pupils are blown out, knuckles white from grasping the counter, “You already did enough.”

Your hand is still on his clothed dick, unmoving. No one dares break the moment, though. If anything, being this close to him, feeling him while you both search for something in each other’s eyes, is only spurring you further.

You get on your tip toes, your perky nipples brushing against his chest, your voice low while you tilt your head to the side, “What were you thinking of? I'll be that for you.”

Immediately, his hand flies over yours. He doesn’t move it, just holds it still. The look in his eyes is a lot darker, his eyelids droopy, his jaw clenched, “Stop this.”

The electrifying spark that buzzes you the moment you feel his skin travels from your hand to your whole body, and it significantly weakens you.

You don’t know if you fall to your knees because they genuinely give up on you, but it’s how you find yourself facing his hardness, your eyes never leaving his glossy ones, highlighted by the dim light shining through the curtains of his kitchen.

“___. Get up.” There’s a tremor in his voice, and the hand that was blocking yours now falls by his side, twitching.

You see it in his eyes. Sense it in the tension of his muscles. He's holding back. But you don’t want him to resist you.

“Please,” your beg is muffled and quiet, your nose brushing against his length and following a torturous path that makes him hiss.

He groans deliriously, willing himself to tear his orbs off your big, pleading ones staring up at him, but he doesn’t do anything to move you away.

“Fuck,” the chuckle that follows is feverish, his body on fire with the forbidden, but so wanted touch, “Don’t make me have to reject you, doll.”

“You don’t have to,” you’re unexpectedly quick in your answers, your conscience coming back to you but letting it be taken over by a dark feeling, the one that makes you kiss his tip through the thin material, and lick along his length, finding his eyes, "I want you.”

Jeongguk inhales, his lower lip bleeding with the harsh biting, and he swears his knees are shaking with the effort of keeping even the slightest, thinnest thread of sanity intact.

He wishes he could stop you. Knows he should. But he can't. He can only watch as your slim fingers hook under the hem of his light pants and lead them to pool down his ankles.

The way his cock springs free and brushes your smooth, pure face makes him huff out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed as he takes in your eyes widening at the sight of his length.

Mr. Jeon is long. And thick. He's veiny, and perfectly shaved. It looks almost unrealistic, but he’s in front of you in all his glory and he throbs. Leaks pretty precum to coat his angry tip.

He doesn’t know how he manages to speak, especially when you look up at him through your droopy eyelids, pupils blown and tongue ready to take him.

His voice is rough, as if it wants to stay stuck in his throat, but he forces one last warning out, “___. Don’t do it.”

Any and all kinds of inhibitions are nonexistent the moment you attempt a kitten lip at his wet tip, and the simple action makes his head fall backwards, a way too loud growl escaping him. His breaths are heavy, broad chest moving with them as he looks down at you again, too tempted to look elsewhere.

He curses as soon as he does, his lust-filled orbs swimming in your equally craving ones, and he believes this view is crafted by the hands of a God, not slightly comparable to anything his mind came up with back in his room, not too long ago.

The reason why he’s gotten rock hard under his covers, it’s you. The yearning he couldn’t suppress anymore, the hunger making him salivate, the need to be consumed by your love, the desire to be touched by you, to be cured by your innocence, only to taint it.

He’s thirsty, wants to drink all of you in. Wants to finally have you, taste you, feel you. He's tired of fighting it.

Jeongguk doesn’t know how to decipher his heart doing literal flips in his chest when you fully take his cock in your mouth, and he lets out a sound he’s never heard his own self ever produce. It’s high-pitched, whiny, delirious, and it leads himself to subtly push himself forward, to bury his length in your throat.

You inevitably choke at the new sensation, your eyes fluttering shut to keep the tears welling up under your eyelids from spilling out, but you go relentlessly, just as hungry.

You tentatively bob your head up and down his length, messily taking him as best as you could, probably accidentally scraping him with your teeth a few times, and you try to make up for it with your swirling tongue, slurping thirstily.

He almost coos at your eagerness, and as badly as he wants to bask in the sensation, having to keep himself from pounding into your mouth, he holds your silky hair in a ponytail and gently pushes you away.

When you find him again, your eyes are glossy and your eyebrows drawn up with worry.

You don’t want this moment to end. You don’t want your insecurities to be proven right, don’t want him to ward you off, to still think of you as nothing more than a childish girl with an evident crush. You're on your knees for him to finally see you.

Jeongguk instantly reads your thoughts.

His voice is quick to sooth you, a sweet smile painting his face with an expression you rarely see on him. It's soft, just like his voice, “Come up here, angel.”

You want to listen to him, want to follow his every order. But you’re not sure how to when he’s regarding you with a care you’d never thought would be directed at you, one that empties you of any strength. When the pet name rolling off his tongue that easily seems so natural, you want to think it’s all he’s ever seen you as.

With a delicate tug at your hair, he leads you on your feet again. Still, you’re weak, your chin falling on his chest as you look at him through your lashes like he’s hung every single star in the sky.

His hand leaves your locks only to cup your face, promptly helping you stand straight to study your features.

If he didn’t know better, he’d say you’re high off the strongest substance you could find. Your pupils cover your orbs in a dark, wide circle, a lazy smile on your pink lips as you let yourself be handled by him, no control over your body, almost falling over his bigger one again before he steadies you by your hips.

He lets out an amused chuckle at the state you’re in because of him, and he hopes you know just how much you’re affecting him, too. He wants to swallow you, pill after pill, overdose on you.

When he’s sure you don’t need his help keeping you still anymore, leading your palms to rest on his wide shoulders, he takes your face in his big hands and forces you to swim in the intensity of his gaze.

His words are spoken slowly, a low whisper fanning over your lips, “If I kiss you now, I won't be able to control myself anymore.”

Your eyes jump relentlessly between his own orbs and his mouth, the latter winning the battle when you fixate on it, and speak just as weakly, “Please, kiss me.”

You barely manage to get the words out before Jeongguk is all over you. He devours you, pushing your lips open and finding your tongue, playing with it in a mess of slick and heavy breaths.

His fingers travel through every angle of your body they can find, pulling your face impossibly closer by your nape, leaving goosebumps along your bare arms wrapping around his neck, falling down your torso and squeezing harshly as they rest by your sides.

Your moan is inevitable when his palms reach down the curve of your ass and shove you against him. You feel his hardness meet the softness of your lower belly, his wet tip poking at it and making him hiss on your lips.

He does his best to swallow all your sounds, your muffled whines and whimpers his favorite meal as of now. It's a wince of slight pain that you let out as he positions you in between his body and the counter, the border pressing on your lower back.

When he moves from your kiss, even with your lungs being unable to breathe anymore and begging for a break, your head follows his movements to try and bring him back on you again.

The chuckle he lets out is almost belittling, the right side of your face being completely engulfed by his palm to put distance between your mouths, his other hand keeping you still by your waist, and his own hips push against you.

You quickly glance down to where your bodies meet, and you whimper when you take in the way his cock is just above your core, his balls brushing against your clit. You only need to lift yourself a little forward to fully feel him.

But it’s like he instantly knows what’s making your head spin, his grip tighter but still mindful not to hurt you. The sudden squeeze has your eyes finding his, feeling ridiculously smaller under the weight of his heavy gaze.

He makes sure you keep your whole focus on him, and as much as registering the way your orbs are glossy with anticipation and desire is making him almost regret his next words, he lets them out, steady but soft, in your face.

“You had your fun, baby. Now, you’re going to listen to me. Hm?”

This time, your reaction comes promptly following his request. You're hanging from his lips, tracing their every move and sound, immediately nodding at the order.

It’s not enough, and Jeongguk ensures to sound a bit firmer, ”Use your words.”

”Yes, Mr. Jeon.”

The way your response rolls off your tongue with seemingly no hesitation, your pupils still on his, the words you choose to say, make him let out an amused chuckle.

Your eyes widen, and he drinks in your state, cheeks flushed and lower lip trembling. You need to bite it in order for it to stop shaking when he narrows his eyes, his left palm rising from your hip and finding its way under your top, his remark making you startle, ”You’re such a bad girl. Aren’t you?”

Jeongguk makes up for the way more tears seem to well along your bottom lashes by cupping your small breast in his larger hand, swirling his thumb around your nipple, and you need to fight against the loud moan traveling its way up your throat, the choked sound getting stuck as your mouth hangs open, your eyebrows furrowed.

It only takes some more of his degrading tone for you to let out an unashamedly loud noise, his fingertips pinching your nipple, ”Calling me that only because it gets you off. Doesn’t it? You’re not so innocent after all, angel.”

He quickly swallows your sounds with his lips on yours, and both of you can’t help but hum lowly at the contact. Jeongguk thinks he could keep kissing you for hours on end. But he badly wants to feel every other inch of your body, too.

Unexpectedly, the kiss gets broken when he turns your body around with ease, your back now pressing against his front, and you steady your shaking figure by planting your hands on the counter.

The access to your ear comes effortlessly, he just needs to bend his head down to cover your height difference and make sure his whispered words meet you as close as possible, “I’ll give you what you want. But you need to be quiet and good for me, understood?”

You’re not sure if you should use your voice or stay silent, but your body doesn’t give you the chance to ponder over it before letting out a whiny Yes. You’re not exactly being quiet, but can he blame you?

The man you’d get to talk to for more than five minutes only in your dreams is now promising you he’s going to give you what you want. And his cock is perfectly nestled in between your ass cheeks. You're positive you’ll have to throw your shorts right in the bin after he’s done with you.

Though, the scoff resounding in your ear makes you regret not even trying to lower your volume. You really want to be good for him. Don’t want to disappoint him.

That’s why when he taps two fingers under your chin, without him having to express it for you, you part your lips open, tongue out. From the corner of your eye, you see the side of his face scrunched with a long dimple before he shoves the digits inside your wet mouth.

You instantly wrap yourself around his long fingers, coating them in your warm slick, and you can tell it’s affecting him with the way the hold on your hip tightens, and he shifts between your thighs.

With your tongue swirling around the two digits, your eyes search for his face. Looking up at him through your lashes, you clench around nothing when you take in the effortless way he towers over you, his body engulfing your whole smaller figure.

The sinful eye contact leads him to spur you on further, his voice rough with desire, “That’s right. Suck on them like you would my cock.”

You hum deeply at the encouragement, fluttering your eyelids shut as you energetically bob up and down along his fingers. You think you can still feel the taste of his precum lingering on your tongue, and you whine, wishing you could have him again.

The noise gets cut from your throat when he forces his digits out, the slicky sound lustful, and it makes him groan lowly.

With his other hand, he delicately pushes your head forward to bend you over the marble counter, the same one where hours ago he passed you his glass of wine to take a sip from.

The surface is cold against your cheek and he’s out of your vision as he stands straight. Not being able to see what he’s doing, the expression on his face as you lay folded for him, makes the anticipation flood even stronger in your veins.

You feel him pull your shorts down enough to reveal yourself to him, hear him hiss as he’s enthralled by the way your pussy glistens, all for his eyes to admire.

The curse that follows is instant, “Fuck. No panties?”

You’re embarrassed for your straightforward bareness, whimpering at his surprise with your fist tightening and your nails imprinting crescents in your palms, but you’re also so impatient to feel his touch.

Tentatively, you wiggle for him, hoping to brush against his length, but it’s to no effort as he instantly stills your movements with a hand on your lower back.

He scoffs incredulously, feeling your bare ass against his palm, “It’s like you knew this would happen. You dirty, naughty girl. Always giving me those eyes.”

It’s light, the spank that meets the side of your butt, but you gasp nonetheless. You need to bite your lower lip harshly in order to suppress the loud moan from escaping your throat, and you’re sure it bleeds when he strokes the spot he hit.

The hand soothing you now travels to your front, torturously putting pressure on your sensitive stomach and following a slow pattern, only to reach your wet core.

He finally touches you where you’ve been needing him the most, and you both groan when he uses his already soaked pointer and ring finger to spread your lips, his middle one tracing your slit.

You inhale deeply as he repeats the motion, and when you exhale you can’t help small whines from leaving you, the pleasure already too overwhelming.

You feel like passing out when his body weight presses on you again, his mouth directly on your lobe, the intention in his voice dripping on your skin, “You think I wouldn’t notice? You know how hard my cock gets everytime I see you in these tiny clothes of yours, huh? You’re quite literally the death of me, doll.”

Then, it’s like all your senses come back to you the moment he pushes his digit in, and he immediately reaches around you to put his other hand over your mouth the second he sees it opening, your eyes rolling up.

You cry in his palm, the sound muffled with his fingers tightening under your jaw, his body still leaning on yours. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear and stills his middle finger inside you, getting you used to his presence, “Shh, princess. Good baby, you’re doing perfect.”

The contrast to his earlier shaming tone only makes you whine more, your eyes squeezing closed to try and keep the noises in. You’re sure you bite his palm when he starts moving inside you, the finger curling tentatively and soon being joined by another one.

You shake your head weakly, feeling yourself reach delirium, and you manage to stammer out, “Can’t— can’t do this.”

“You can baby, c’mon. You wanna be a good girl f’me, don’t you?” His tone is still low, warm breath fanning over your nape, and you melt under the sudden change in attitude.

You nod, not because you believe you can actually get through this without your heart failing and the whole neighborhood hearing you in the process, but because you do want to be his good girl.

He hums, “That’s right. I need to stretch you out if you want to take my cock.”

You choke in his wrap, now looser around your face, surprised at his words, and you clench hard at the mention of his cock inside you. You throw your head backwards in search of more of his proximity, and you mumble nonsense, your brain completely melted, “Yes! Want your dick.”

“I know you do, little one,” with your head nestled between the crook of his neck, his hand now falls to your throat, and he holds you gently by it while his fingers pick up a faster pace.

He's ruthless as he moves them inside you, effortlessly finding your sweet spot with a curl of his long, tattooed digits, and you whimper at the foreign sensation, unable to moan like you really want to.

You feel like screaming the more he keeps going, the only possible reaction to what is happening to you. One moment ago you were dreaming of this, and now it’s your reality.

Mr. Jeon is fingering you and calling you his good girl. His large figure is behind your smaller one bent over the counter, his palm around your throat, his hard length pressing against your ass.

The moment he uses his thumb to flick at your clit, you arch your back into him and you hear him fight to suppress a surprised moan.

“Shit. You’re so impatient, sugar. Dripping around my fingers. Wanna taste your sweet juice, can I?” It’s a rhetorical question, hushed slurredly in your ear, because after he lets it out his fingers leave your hole, and find a new home on his warm tongue.

He purposefully moves your chin to make you a witness of his sinful action, humming deeply around the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut, his digits popping out drenched.

Your mouth hangs, your tongue unconsciously peeking out as if asking to be made a participant, but Jeongguk only smirks and stands straight once again, his wet hand leaving another light spank on your ass cheek, “Turn around, sweets.”

You do as asked, making sure your palms are still steadying your weight on the counter now behind you, afraid your legs alone won’t be able to. You soon find out you won’t have to put much effort into that when Jeongguk lifts you with ease and sits you on the surface, your slickness meeting the cold marble.

You don’t have to lift your head to look at him anymore, your heights now the same. But finding yourself directly in front of his hardened gaze makes you feel even more intimidated.

Especially when he traces your inner thigh, his eyes never leaving yours, “Every time you stand up to leave after dinner, you always leave a puddle on my chairs. And I’m left to clean it up.”

You swallow audibly at the accusation, and you can feel your eyes water once again, biting your lips to conceal the shame.

He only grins amusedly at your state, the tip of his tongue coming out to play with his lower lip. The hand on your leg now forces it to move to the side, his face only getting closer to yours, his tone deeper, "I've thought about licking it up, you know? But then I always stopped myself, because I knew I'd get to taste your pretty, wet pussy.”

You gasp, a shaky moan leaving you uncontrollably, and your fingers hover over his figure, wanting to find support in him but unsure whether to touch him.

He finds your mouth in a short kiss, almost reassuring, but he’s back to spitting sins the moment he lowers his face between your spread legs, and the way he looks up at you is almost scandalous. He looks devilish, his orbs visible through his lashes, his tongue wetting his lips. He takes your uncertain hand and places it between his tousled hair, directing himself to you, instructing you how to use him.

He presses a peck above your clit, still drinking in your reactions, his smile wicked, “I knew you’d crumble soon. You little minx. Going after your best friend’s dad. So naughty.”

Your head is thrown backwards at his words, ones that only add to the pleasure that takes over you when he latches at your pussy, the wet sounds ungodly.

The shame and guilt mixing in the back of your mind generate a profane sense of bliss you’d never think you could reach, and even though deep down you feel dirty being confronted with the truth he sputtered out so easily, you can’t help getting off to it right now.

Jeongguk is ravenous as he finds your drenched lips, lapping furiously at them and drinking the juice that continuously drips out. He flicks the tip of his tongue up and down your swollen clit, and your hand that he himself put on top of his head now tugs at his curls, forcing him closer to you. He’s trapped, your legs squeezing around his head, his nose nuzzled in your slit, and he can’t stop the hand that reaches to stroke his pleading dick.

You think you hear him mumble something along the lines of taste so good as he teases your hole with his wet muscle, and you’re a gone woman the moment you look down, your eyes fluttering open.

His own are closed, brows furrowed in deep concentration, his nose relentlessly grinding against your sensitive nub, and the way he seems so affected by the act of pleasuring you breaks something inside you.

You feel it begin to crumble when his tattooed hand reaches up to lift your top just enough to expose your breasts, nipples hardening with the cold air and the stimulation, and you swear they hurt deliciously when he starts kneading at your boob, fondling it with care.

The deep hum generated from his throat vibrates against you, and the flick of his thumb around the center of your tit matched with the way your clit is being continuously abused unexpectedly leads you to your orgasm.

It’s fast, unannounced, and you find support in his hair, your body taking over your brain and relentlessly grinding against Jeongguk’s face, suffocated between you, unable to stop reaching for the heavenly, and so awaited high.

Your whines are frantically high pitched, but the moment he feels you cum all over his mouth everything around him disappears except you, and all he cares about is slurping you, drinking you as you let it all out because of him.

He pants, breathless, opening his eyes to witness your climax, to admire you breaking under his doings, chest swelling with pride and a primal sense of protectiveness.

When he hears you whimper the more he keeps sucking on your clit, your slim fingers pulling at his locks, he finally lifts himself up.

On the path he follows to come back up to meet your face, he finds your nipple with a sweet kiss, his tongue teasing your nub, and he smiles against it, teeth gently pinching it. When seeking with his eyes for your reaction he sees your own rolling back. Next, his mouth is on yours, smearing your wetness all over your lips and mixing it with his spit on your tongue, connecting in a frantic, hungry dance.

His forehead rests against yours when he breaks the kiss, breaths heavy, the lazy grin on his face the only thing you can focus on, hanging on his gentle words, “Did so good, babe. Came so hard all over me.”

Your eyes inevitably fall down to his cock, painfully hard against his stomach, the tip angry and slicked with precum.

You feel your core buzz, kissing him to conceal the unshameful desire building up so fast again, but still you can’t help from mumbling against him, “Wan’ you to fuck me.”

The hum of pleasure coming from his throat reverberates on your lips, and he smiles at your confession. Even chuckles, one hand resting at your hip and sliding you closer.

“That what you want, baby?” Your legs wrapping around him, he kisses along your neck and travels to your collarbones, leaving small bites to keep himself from marking you like he truly wants to.

He slips his palms under your thighs and lifts you up the counter effortlessly, your legs squeezing tighter around him in order to keep yourself balanced. The new position has his cock perfectly meeting your core, your slit brushing against his tip as he walks you two over the living room couch, his mouth promptly swallowing your whimpers.

When he lays you on the sofa, he straightens himself to fully admire you. You're sprawled for him, your hair framing your head like a halo, the sweat pearling your forehead adding to your angelic state.

Your hands are on either side of your face, fingers dainty and slender, and your tank top is lifted up enough to show him your small breasts, slightly spilling from the sides with the new position.

Your shorts still rest under your ass, and with a swift motion he fully takes them off you, giving him access to your center. But the attention is taken away from your wet cunt when he lets his eyes come back up to your face, your cheek resting on your shoulders, trying to hide your embarrassment at his ravenous observing.

He smiles, becoming impatient with the feeling that only grows inside him, and he walks out of his pants still pooled down his ankles, taking off his loose t-shirt and letting it fall on the ground.

Your eyes widen at his sculpted physique, now finally in front of you, his buff dimensions intimidating you, especially when your orbs follow his V line and put you face to face with his huge cock, so close to your watering hole. He teases it with his length, sliding it up and down your slit, then slapping it against your clit. You arch your back, groaning.

“Am I the real man you’ve been waiting for? You wanna be fucked by this big man, don’t you?” His sinful words only make you nod dumbly, becoming potty under his control.

At your eagerness, he wastes no time. Aligning himself with your hole, he enters you. The stretch is deliciously painful, his tip boldly splitting you open for him. He knows your wail is coming, so he lowers himself on you to block your sounds with his mouth. But, truly, he’s the one that needs to be silenced.

The moment he feels your tightness around his bare dick, he growls. His sounds grow more desperate as he sinks himself deeper, the grip on your waist enough to wreck you, and you’re expecting it to leave a mark

You hum roughly against his lips, your nails scratching along his shoulder blades in search of any kind of grounding you can find. It’s too much, his dimensions way oversized for what your hole can take, and the fact that you can’t help but grip him even tighter isn’t helping.

He reads you, your broken whines and the tear falling from your left eye, and the moment he bottoms out he stills himself, his face in the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling the warm skin in a reassuring manner, “Shh, baby. I got you. Let me make you feel good.”

The whispered words are the same ones that jolted you from your sleep, the dream almost too real, and paired with his middle and ring finger circling your sensitive nub they cause you to emit a pleasured squeal, your chest arching into his.

At this point, you’re afraid you’re still trapped deep in your slumber. that none of this is actually real, it can’t be. You’re so convinced that it’s just too good to be true that you test it, scraping your nails harshly in his back, and when he bites the skin under your jaw in protest you gasp shakily.

It's definitely real. Jeongguk is fucking you. Almost. Not yet.

With the way your clit is being stimulated by his long fingers, the initial sharpness turns into more slick, and you impatiently groan, “Fuck me, please.”

One final kiss is left on your lips before he lifts his torso up, his hands roaming along your sides and grasping a hold of your tits. He teases you with a playful smirk on his face, your disappointed pout only resulting in a devilish chuckle from him as he massages your soft boobs. You can feel him throb inside you the more you swallow him in, and you know he’s just as impatient. You buck your hips up in search of friction, and the sudden motion makes the both of you moan.

He’s suddenly resolute as his palms fall to your waist and effortlessly holds it up as he begins fucking into you. With each stroke he picks up his pace, and he’s soon pounding your tight hole wrapping around him.

The both of you find out it’s impossible to be quiet. Your sounds are stuttered and pornographic, and it makes Jeongguk afraid he’s never going to be able to get them off his brain.

His own noises are heavenly, deep growls and surprised whines falling out his pillowed lips, slightly agape in bliss, brows drawn up.

Your eyes roll back and never come back, your vision patched, and you think you weren’t built to survive this kind of pleasure. It's almost deathly when he finds that one particular spot that makes you see stars.

Your skin slapping is louder than his hushed speech, but he makes sure the words reach you and translate into wetness coating his length even more, drenching it, making it soaked in your juices, “That’s how you need to be fucked. That’s how my girl needs to be fucked, hm?”

“Mhm, fuck, yes!” It’s breathless, but you want him to hear you. You feel yourself get closer just watching him smirk proudly at your state, his pupils blown out.

His palms are back to playing with your breast, kneading it harshly, and you enjoy the way he seems to be hypnotized by the vision, “Fuck. Love your tits. Fit just right in my hand. You were made for me, angel.”

Your head is thrown back between the cushions, your legs wrapping tighter around his ass and pushing him even deeper, the anticipated sensation building simultaneously in both of your trembling bodies.

“I'm not gonna last long, baby. This pussy’s too tight. Trappin’ me inside it,” Jeongguk’s voice is rough, the words leaving him slurredly and all his effort put into snapping his hips against yours, his eyes focused on the relentless in and out motion.

You wail, mumbling nonsense, but at the same time the most sincere words you’ve ever sputtered to him, “It’s yours, Jeongguk. F—fucking yours. Forever. Ah— fuck.”

He hums, feeling you contract around him the more he speaks to you, “That’s it. My pussy to fuck, baby. Mine to play with, mine to fill up.”

Your eyes widen at his territorial remarks, and when they meet his hazy ones they water with overwhelming ecstasy. The possibility of his cum filling you up is what does it for you, your nerves undoing once again and making you spasm around his throbbing dick. He talks you through your orgasm, praising you for cumming so good all over him, drinking in your blissful sounds and your hips rutting against his.

He’s just as close, and the realization that you came the moment he mentioned painting you in his seed makes him a crazed man, his motions stuttering sloppily, “Fuck. Aren’t you a naughty one, doll. You really want me to come inside you? You want it, huh? I bet you do.”

Your repeated nodding and the way your body is so pliant in his hold, letting it be completely handled by him with no functioning muscle, pervades his senses with a primal force that he puts into fucking your sensitive cunt.

He smirks wickedly, “You’d look so pretty. All stuffed. Want me to fill up this tight pussy? Want my mature cock in so deep you can’t breathe?”

You think you scream at his continuous suggestions, but you can’t be sure when all your senses are clouded, the oversensitivity turning you into a literal doll for him, no power over your actions. He looks just as fucked out, his lips parting as he basks in the feeling of being in control of you, eyes fighting to stay open and keep you in his vision.

When he feels you contracting around him in overstimulation, his breath stutters and he feels himself reach the peak, quickly pulling out of you to spill his cum over your naked skin. You gasp at the sudden emptiness and the warm liquid that keeps falling over your stomach, his cock being pumped in his fist and milked from all he can give you. You both pant in exhaustion, your legs loosening their grip around him as he dips his weak knees on either side of you on the couch.

He hums when he fully takes in your figure, marked by his cum, and he smiles when he sees your eyelids struggling to not fall. But you spasm once again when you feel his finger slide over your stomach, the wet liquid being collected, “Now, you gonna clean this up for me. Open your pretty mouth, baby.”

You don’t even ponder on the request, you just follow the order. Your brain is reduced to thoughts that are only related to him, and it automatically complies to anything that he orders from you. You engulf his digits promptly, swallowing his semen, looking up at him through your lashes and unashamedly clenching at his lazy smirk.

He makes sure every drop of his is collected and sucked by your hungry mouth, smiling when you don’t ever complain, “Mh, good girl. Get them neat.”

Only when he’s satisfied, he hovers over your face and finds your tongue in a sensual, slow kiss, both of you moaning at the exchange. With a sloppy sound, he parts from you only to disappear between your thighs, his eyes mischievous, “Gonna clean you up too.”

You gasp at the feeling of his mouth wrapping around your core once again, slurping your juice and lapping at your inner thighs, and you’re not sure how this is going to help in getting you clean. You only feel yourself becoming even wetter.

Leaving a kiss above your nub, he straightens up with a boyish smile softening his features, and with the fond way he’s looking at you, nobody could tell he just made you cum twice.

He moves your bangs from your forehead, closing the distance between you once again to leave small pecks over your still reddened face, “You did amazing, doll. Made me cum so hard.”

You hum contentedly, snuggling closer to him, your body unconsciously gravitating toward his warmth. Your hand lifts to thread through his hair, but before you can touch him, he shifts, pulling away.

The warmth he provided vanishes, replaced by the cold emptiness of the couch. Panic surges in your chest, washing away any remnants of fatigue. You prop yourself up on your forearms, eyes tracking his movements.

You don’t want him to leave you here alone, bare and vulnerable, maybe a bit confused and uncertain, and deep down deathly scared of whatever will come after this.

Your brows furrow, heart picking up a painful speed when you see he’s getting dressed — tossing on his shirt, pulling on his pants. And for a second, your pulsing organ clenches with dread. Is he leaving?

Then you notice him picking up your shorts from the floor, his expression softening as he walks back to you with that same gentle smile that had made your heart flutter earlier.

Relief washes over you.

He handles you delicately, as though you’re something fragile. His fingers brush your skin as he slips your shorts back on, pulling down your top before encircling your waist with his strong arms.

You squeal lightly when he pulls you onto his lap, settling back on the couch with you cradled against his chest. His hands never leave you, securing you to him. You settle into him easily, sighing in appreciation as the warmth of his body returns, your legs draped across his lap, arms circling his neck.

For a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels like it’s in its right place, like this is where you’ve always belonged. It feels so natural, so easy, being wrapped up in him. His deep, slow breaths lull you into a state of calm. His chin rests on the top of your head, hand rubbing soothing strokes along your spine.

You press even closer, breathing him in, feeling like you could get used to this, like you already have. Like you’ve always known this is where you should be. Your fingers trace absentminded patterns along his tattooed arm, the one holding you secure under your legs. You feel the need to look at him, to admire the man that marked you as his.

But when you glance up, you’re a bit startled when you notice the shift in his expression. His face is hardened, jaw clenched tight. He's not relaxed like he was just moments ago. His gaze is distant, staring intently at a spot across the room as if lost in thought. Yet his hands continue to cradle you, almost unconsciously, like holding you has become second nature to him.

Jeongguk’s mind is a whirlwind of emotions, and they only scatter all over the place as he feels you move closer, impossibly so. You seek warmth, care. Nuzzle your fragile body against his for protection, something more that he fears he can’t give you. Love.

He once thought he’d drained himself of it, had nothing left to offer. Now, with you in his arms, the smallest spark flickers to life, burning its way up his throat until it feels like it’s going to consume him.

He wants to give in. He wants to hold you tighter, trap you against him, keep you with him. Give you everything.

But he can’t do that to you. Can’t make you go through the same path that took everything from him. not without ruining you in the process.

He knows what comes next. What always comes next. Love turns into suffering, it’s inevitable. And could he survive seeing the look on Areum’s face when she finds out? How would she react if she knew the truth about what he’s done, about how he feels? About how he truly wants to act upon his feelings? The thought makes him feel sick, even as his heart beats steadily against yours, comforted by your presence.

Why doesn’t he feel disgusted? Why isn’t there shame gnawing at him, making him pull away? Instead, there’s only bliss. The sheer joy of having you this close, of holding you like this, makes him forget everything else.

He wishes he could be immature, for once. Wishes he was your age, and that nothing truly mattered. That he still could allow himself to make stupid decisions.

Maybe then, you’d be his, and reality wouldn’t catch up to him.

“Jeongguk? Are you okay?”

Your soft, honeyed voice pulls him from his spiral, and he startles slightly, caught off guard. His eyes meet yours, wide and filled with concern, searching his face for answers.

He tries to hide the storm brewing inside him, forcing a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Huh? Yeah. I'm okay.”

Of course, you don’t believe him. An ugly feeling makes space in your stomach, and the weight of everything begins to press down. You don’t want it to take over you just yet, want to be coddled by the moment a little more, want to try and believe there’s nothing to be afraid of.

You offer a tentative smile, hoping to ease whatever tension is growing between you. “You… you seem worried.”

“I'm not, baby. I'm just thinking.”

“About?”

“Stuff.” His voice is clipped, and the small wall he’s building between you becomes clearer.

The distance stings, and your heart sinks as you try to hold onto the moment that felt so perfect just a second ago. Desperate to reach him, you place your hands on his face, tilting his chin down to meet your gaze.

Your eyes glisten with emotion, but you manage a genuine, if small, smile. “You can tell me, you know. You can talk to me.”

One simple, small smile spreading across his lips makes you doubt all of your worries. It makes you want to believe that maybe, there’s truly no reason to be scared. That maybe, this can go well.

“I know,” it’s whispered on your face, his hand coming to play with the hair that frame your cheeks sweetly. “Let’s get you to bed now, hm?”

Before you can protest, he’s lifting you off the couch with ease, cradling you in his arms bridal style as if you weigh nothing at all. You clutch onto him.

You feel your insides fuzzy with the gesture, and you wiggle yourself closer in his embrace, looking up at him expectantly, “Your bed?”

It breaks his heart having to disappoint you, tone soft as he tries to make up for it with his thumb brushing your thigh, “No, baby. You gotta go back to Areum’s room.”

“But— but… I wanna sleep next to you,” you plead, your voice small and almost childlike as you pout up at him, hoping to sway him.

He looks away, focusing on the stairs as if looking at you would break his resolve. “We can’t, dove. You know we can’t.”

His words feel like a punch to the gut, and your eyes well up. “We can't?”

The silence that follows is louder than any answer he could have given, and it weighs heavy between you, suffocating. There's no actual explanation to it, and the realization leaves both of you uneasy.

At Areum’s door, he sets you down gently, making sure you’re steady on your feet. He's careful with you, like he always is, his voice low, “Go wash up. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“No…”

“C’mon, sweetheart. Don't make this harder.”

You frown in protest, keeping eye contact, but he doesn’t break. His gaze is steady, resolute.

You want to argue, want to push, but the exhaustion settles over you, and you slump, defeated. You still sway sweetly for him, your hands tied behind your back, “Okay… Can you kiss me?”

Your voice is small, muffled behind your pout as you seek for him with anticipation, a sheepish smile making its way on your lips.

When he doesn’t move closer, you get on your tippy toes and lean in his direction once again, your eyes almost fluttering shut before you hear him clear his throat, and take an awkward step back.

You’re back on your heels with a thump, the same one reverberating in your chest with your heart falling, your mouth hanging open with confusion written all over your expression.

You go to say something but he’s quicker, his voice solemn, “Goodnight, ___.”

Jeongguk smiles, but it’s nothing like the ones that took over his whole face just minutes ago on the couch, his eyes full of you. You're not even sure if you can define it as a smile. It’s polite, almost too polite, and it only results in feeling tremendously distant from him. Completely disconnected from you.

He retreats, long legs carrying him away, his back to you as he slips into his room. The door clicks shut behind him, the sound final, and it echoes in the hollow space.

You stand still, the weight of his absence pressing heavily on your chest. The spot where he left you feels like a grave, your feet sinking into the cold floor as if it’s pulling you under. The warmth he offered, the fleeting sense of safety, is gone, and you’re freezing. Your throat is tight with the effort to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. It's useless, though.

Your bare feet shuffle against the floor, but you can’t move forward. You can’t go back. You can’t do anything except stand there and feel the weight of it all crash down on you.

You’d been so afraid this would happen. How could you have been so foolish? Even in the midst of the sweetness, you knew it was too good to be true. A part of you always knew. And yet, you let yourself believe for a fleeting moment that something real could come from it. That you could be enough.

You’d have done anything to prove it to him. To show him your loyalty, your willingness to make it work. You still would. You'd give him every part of yourself, if he’d only take it. If he’d only look at you the way you want him to.

The full weight of your reality sinks in. In the end, none of it was truly real.

A sob breaks free from your chest, raw and painful. The sound echoes in the quiet hallway, bouncing off the walls that now feel oppressive, like they’re closing in on you. This house, every corner, it’s all stained now, tainted by the memory of what just happened, by the lie you let yourself fall into.

And you? You feel tainted, too.

#🩷 thank u #missie ❤︎#the grande series: best mistake

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