#do i win first person to draw this guy...?
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rintinningvt · 6 months ago
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Started watching the Bayverse movies with my besties and... Are we just too gay for these movies??? Admittedly we only finished the first two and got through a quarter of the third, but the second one was such a drag to sit through at times and it probably doesn't help that we do NOT care about Sam that much. I hope that there is a character arc for him in the rest of the third movie. Because so far he has not been fun to watch in that one. He just comes off as a slight manchild to me, like... I can see why he would be frustrated with where he is in life but the way he acts with others and lashes out does not help him in the slightest. I do have to admit though that seeing him go to Cybertronian Heaven in the second movie was the funniest part for me and my besties lol.
I'll just hope that the other guy in the next movies will be at least a bit more interesting. Doesn't even have to be a good guy, just an interesting guy for me lol
#rintalks#text#transformers#transformers bayverse#A lesbian demigirl a she/they lesbian and a nonbianry bisexual watch Bayverse with alcohol- You'll never guess what happens next#Adding a Drinking Game to your (attempted) movie marathon can increase the fun for the whole group lol#But only when everyone knows how to drink responsibly and does not peer pressure of course#I feel like they made Sam too much of an Everyman that he basically had nothing as a person himself#He is literally a middle-class white teenage boy who is not too smart nor too sporty a bit awkward but says witty lines and-#It feels like so much to just say nothing#No real soft and or hard skills to speak of for this dude#Nothing about him as a person was what was needed in the two movies either#It was so circumstancial#If he wasn't related to his captain/explorer grandfather and had his glasses then he never would've been sucked into the conflict#if he didn't touch the shard in the second movie then he wouldn't have been an accidental cybertronian usb stick#I do admit that the movie wouldn't have come to it's conclusion without his involvement and the knowledge he sucked up but everything else-#It wasn't exactly HIS knowledge and he wasn't the guy who had all the breakthroughs or epiphanies.#Also. Him going to cybertronian heaven lol. All these soldiers also gave their lives to protect Optimus where do they go? Lmao#I feel like Mikaela would've been a better protagonist but considering that it was the 2000s and she was a girl in a “”boy franchise“”-#fat fucking chance man ToT#The way she was driving in reverse while having Bumblebee in the back shoot at Decepticons was som genuinely cool shit ngl#And she only got the car bc she knew how to unlock and jumpstart it!!! Queen shit!!!#I'm so far not a fan of how weirdly enabling Carly is of Sams more immature tendencies but I won't give up hope and just watch!#Maybe they'll break up bc they see they're not good for each other or maybe the trauma will change them and draw them closer to each other#there are many ways to go with both of these characters and their relationship#Am I having too much hope? Probably but I don't want to be too cynical about things lol#makes life a bit more fun that way too#Funnily enough the only characters me and my besties found ourselves slightly attached to were the idiot twins in the second movie#and the little monstertruck guy voiced by Tom Kenny at times. Not in all his scenes but you know. A win is a win.#And of course Bumblebee except for that scene where he pissed on that dude in the first movie that was not it
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caramelarchive2 · 1 year ago
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I get really chatty at this time for some reason. it's like the very end of the day for me and very few people are active
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lowkeyren · 7 months ago
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in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.
wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.
ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!!
ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!
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PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)
the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar. 
alhaitham. 
the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%. 
you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal. 
(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car
)
disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win? 
anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.
though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings. 
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ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU. 
alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him. 
that was what he always believed, but then he saw you. 
the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.
as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.
(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)
when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)
likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with. 
he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.
by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.
but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.
(they are.)
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ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.
your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.
unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.
you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.
his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.
with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away. 
“what was that about?”
alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway. 
you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”
“just getting rid of some
 distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.” 
his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để Ăœ đáșżn em như váș­y
 em tháș„y khĂŽng phiền, cĂČn tĂŽi thĂŹ cĂł.”
“seeing them constantly paying attention to you
 you're not bothered by it, but i am.”
“bởi vĂŹ cĂĄi cĂĄch mĂ  em chĂș tĂąm hoĂ n toĂ n vĂ o một việc gĂŹ đó
  nĂł quyáșżn rĆ© vĂŽ cĂčng.”
because the way you completely focus on something
 is truly mesmerising.
you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.
“váș­y nĂȘn tĂŽi cĆ©ng khĂŽng thể trĂĄch họ khi họ muốn nhĂŹn em gáș§n vĂ  lĂąu hÆĄn Ä‘Æ°á»Łc.”
so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.
his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so
 freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.
“nhưng mà
 cháșŻc khĂŽng ai trong số bọn họ cĂł thể sĂĄnh ngang với tĂŽi, em nhỉ?”
but
 none of them can compare to me, right?
your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you. 
his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.
feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.
his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”
your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.
"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."
he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.
"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”
your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.
alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”
“bởi vĂŹ tĂŽi sáșœ chứng minh cho em tháș„y ráș±ng chỉ cĂł tĂŽi mới xứng táș§m lĂ m đối thá»§ học thuáș­t cá»§a em, khĂŽng một ai khĂĄc.”
because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.
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why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to
 flatter you?!
you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.
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ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.
you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.
there’s still time till your next class.
maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.
he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.
without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake. 
for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.
instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow. 
you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?
“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath. 
you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.
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you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window. 
alhaitham. 
he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he
 stand there the whole time? why? 
you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”
“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.
he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”
you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”
his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”
a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”
he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”
you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.
“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.
“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”
“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijƍ ni takaku hyƍka shiteiru yo.”
if anything, i think highly of you. 
your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”
“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.
the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.
“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”
despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.
“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.”
good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.
you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.
cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well
 well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.
the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.
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ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.
the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears. 
when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.
there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.
alhaitham.
you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.
you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.
you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot. 
glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.
it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from. 
at this moment,
"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.
he feels like
there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”
he's in heaven.
it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?
"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin."
your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.
“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile. 
the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”
your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.
“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.
each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language
? there’s no way that he—
"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo."
—like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you. 
your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what
 did you say?”
his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.
two strange things happened today: 
1. you finally beat your sworn enemy!
2. said enemy
 complimented you? 
huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if
 you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.
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behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.
“gago
 nagkamali ba ako?”
stupid
 did i make a mistake?
to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still. 
“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!” 
"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.
just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”
alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.
“i’m leaving.” 
"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”
“you’re outnumbered.” 
alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.
(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)
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ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.
“i think alhaitham likes [name].”
the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?” 
across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening. 
cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”
kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”
right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.
oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her. 
(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)
“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially.  “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”
kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.
“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to beïżœïżœïżœ present.”
sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could. 
for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.
his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.
for him, it’s a language without words.
dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."
and what sealed their suspicions? 
definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”
alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”
oh
 oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.
alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.
the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.  
now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.
“well, speak of the devil
 lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”
“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.
—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.
...make that 110%.
(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)
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ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE. 
the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.  
he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.
"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl. 
"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.
“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.
"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.
unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.
he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."
you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”
"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."
your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance. 
alhaitham. 
you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.
"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.
alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.
his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave." 
the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how
 how dare you reject me?!”
alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction. 
the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.
but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold. 
“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”
the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable. 
“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.
you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you. 
"are you alright?"
you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you." 
alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.
streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.
"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."
your stomach twists with guilt.
"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.
he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.
"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot
 you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."  
you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."  
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"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.
the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.
you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.
“nǐ zhĂšme guān xÄ«n wǒ, huĂŹ rĂ ng wǒ wĂč huĂŹ de.”
if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.
your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.
misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?
the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear. 
“—wĂč huĂŹ nǐ duĂŹ wǒ yǒu gǎn juĂ©.”
"—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."
your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle.
“suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xÄ«n wǒ
 nǐ shĂŹ bĂč shĂŹ gĂč yĂŹ rĂ ng rĂ©n xÄ«n dĂČng de?”
“so you're worried about me
 are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”
his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”
his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”
you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically) 
“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”
you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”
his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.
"nǐ bĂč bĂŹ yǎn shĂŹ, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hĂ i xiĆ« de yĂ ng zǐ, tǐng kě Ă i de.”
“you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”
(oh this bastard!!!!)
you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?
after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.
he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.
“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."
you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.
you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.
it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket. 
intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting. 
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ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN. 
To [Name],  I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise.  You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you.  If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly,  Alhaitham. 
you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.
tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it. 
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alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay. 
(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)
of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.
for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.
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ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. 
“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just
 shows it differently.”
ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.
“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”
maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.
“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”
how so? 
if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?
you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.
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the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.
in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.
“haitham.”
the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours. 
his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness 
is he nervous?
“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you
 though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.” 
“i
 ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it
 since i’m not exactly great at this.”
you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue. 
“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.
“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."
suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops,  until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.
his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.
“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”
you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.
his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm. 
it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”
you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.
“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”
reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin. 
“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.”
i love you too, alhaitham.
a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.
you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.
“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”
slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it. 
“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.”
there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.
his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.
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“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub. 
nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”
kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.
“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”
“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”
tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”
“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari
 who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)


“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.
(“is that
 senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?” 
alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."
you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)
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EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.
“how long?”
you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”
alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”
you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?” 
his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”
“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”
he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?"
do you have any idea what you’ve done?
"mas lalong umibig sakin?"
made you fall in love with me even more?
you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.
“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.
you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.
in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.
you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.
“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."
he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.” 
"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”
he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly. 
“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.”
sure, just wait till i buy the ring.
"wh—" 
he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"
you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”
his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.
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MASTERLIST.
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sophiamcdougall · 2 years ago
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You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous Peopleℱ though because Famous Peopleℱ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous Peopleℱ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"
Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.
Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.
Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?
Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.
Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?
No.
Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?
Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.
"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.
Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?
Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.
Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!
Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?
Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?
Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?
No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.
Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?
Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.
Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?
Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.
Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.
There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.
Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?
This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.
Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?
Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.
Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.
No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.
Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.
No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  
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hollyoongs · 5 months ago
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‷ MY BABY LIKE TO STRING ME US ON!
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You looked at your watch; you could feel the excitement going through your veins as the time went by. After months of saving every penny you could get from your part-time job, you could finally afford tickets to a rock concert of your favorite band, Crimson Eclipse.
The concert had been on your mind for months ever since you saw the post of their official account; your brain was filled with fantasies of screaming along to their songs and losing yourself in the sea of fans, recording every now and then as you could feel your throat hurt from all the singing. And here you were, front row, right in the center. The venue was packed already; people were simply taking selfies, preparing the handmade banners they held, or running to the bathroom, the muffled sound of soundchecks echoing faintly through the heavy doors that made the place more pumped up. You adjusted your outfit—a mini black dress with an oversized leather jacket. It was not the best outfit for a concert, knowing that you would be jumping, and the boots with heels you were wearing also didn’t help at all, but that actually didn’t matter. It was your favorite band’s concert, and you were going to go all out.
You shook your head to erase any negative thoughts and took a picture of the spot you were in, the screen focusing on the stage, and you smiled, already knowing how worth it it was to pay for the first-row ticket. You’ve been a fan of them ever since you saw that recommended video of them at the ripe age of fourteen doing a cover of “Welcome to the Black Parade,” and you were still here, eight, almost nine, years later. It made you proud how far they have gone, winning awards and gaining a lot of recognition and fame, but you saw how they didn’t lose themselves or start disliking what they do, music.
The lights went out, surprising everyone who thought there had been a technical failure, but soon that was cleared by the sound of an electric guitar that alerted you, followed by excited screams that made everyone look around to find the source of the sound. This was the first (and hopefully, last) time the first row was conspiring on your contrary; at least, you could get a view thanks to the heels.
Two guys appeared, and you could help but scream at the very familiar shadow of the dynamic duo, Jay and Sunghoon. The two of them were rocking a new look, black hair, standing back-to-back under a soft spotlight that made them stand out. Both of them moved in different directions, Jay—sporting his signature eyebrow piercing—heading toward the first rows, all this while playing without missing a beat, drawing cheers from the audience. Soon after that small intro, the lights on them vanished, and so did they.
A new spotlight illuminated another person, this time, Heeseung, on the stage. He also had a new hairstyle, silver hair to be exact, with his guitar slung across him. He played with the microphone in his hand, his tongue tracing his lips, a small habit he had whenever he was about to sing that you found endearing the majority of the time. Key word, majority of the time.
"Put your loving hand out, baby
" he sang, all the spotlights coming on to point at the performers.
You glanced at the stage, Jake’s shirtless body welcoming everyone as he was playing with drumsticks, the flirty smirk popping out immediately at the cheer while Jay stood on top of the speakers.
Your loose hair was brushed aside delicately, the touch of unfamiliar lips on your shoulder trailing lower beneath my jaw, making you turn, ready to yell at whoever it was to not let you peacefully check on them, but the words froze in your throat when you realized it was Sunghoon. His lips moved closer to your ear as the cameras of several cellphones were pointed at you, recording the fan service you were receiving.
"I’m beggin’

"
Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was the only word running through your mind as you watched the guy walk away from your side and head to the stage with a smirk on his face, most likely pleased by your reaction.
“Fuck, you’re so lucky!” A girl next to you screamed, but you didn’t pay any attention to the glow of her phone recording your dumbfounded expression, too busy processing what just happened. Sunghoon was now standing behind the microphone, his fingers skillfully moving across the bass strings, still wearing that superior smirk that was quickly erased to focus on playing the right chords. Your gaze shifted behind him, and you were hit with a wave of surprise—and an even stronger wave of heat on your cheeks.
Jake was looking at everyone there, soon laying his eyes on you, his exposed tattoos making you trace them with your eyes; sometimes you couldn’t even see them properly because of either one, his flexed arms were moving rhythmically and passionately as he was playing the instrument, or two, that made you lose yourself in the song. His tongue peeked out slightly as he winked at someone in the crowd—or one of the members, occasionally. The piercing in the middle of his lips caught the light, a new piercing.
Yeah, they were going to be your reason to not be alive.
You could physically feel every note they played vibrate through your body—it was the reason why your body matched the energy the band radiated through jumping and singing every lyric. You had only heard the songs through your headphones at a very concerning volume, and even then, their songs caught and captivated you that another band has never done before. But now, performing right in front of you, completely live and giving their all to every song of the setlist, was like entering a whole new world.
The songs were hypnotizing, and they were unstoppable.
You couldn’t define a word to describe Heeseung, but one close to your way of thinking was striking. His black-polished nails contrasting against the silver rings on his fingers and his red microphone in his hands. The butterfly tattoo he recently got on his neck drew the eye, and his gaze never left the crowd, ensuring no one felt left out. You truly can wrap your head around the fact of someone having such charisma; it could be the fact that he was made for the stage, to project everything he had on his mind and connect with people with an ease that seemed almost otherworldly.
Jay, who was dressed in leather and chains with his dark hair falling into his eyes, was the one who brought fire to every performance. Matter of fact, everybody did, but he has this power that pulls the crowd with a single word; his guitar solos could make any room fall silent in awe due to his confidence because, to the fans, every single note he played was a piece of his past, present, and future woven into the strings of his guitar, making even the loudest venues feel intimate, letting them know that it wasn’t only technique but emotion and honesty.
Sunghoon can’t be left out, his hair slicked back, and his ripped jeans left little to the imagination, especially paired with his sleeveless shirt that showed off his defined muscles. He was a whole visual, but his passion for the music and how he can get things done was what made him him. He couldn’t simply exist in the background; he was intensity and precision incarnate, making his stage presence wasn’t about flash—it was about power. It didn’t matter if his fingers danced across the strings, if his voice was being for backup vocals or main; it was that fire in his eyes that was the proof that passion and love could be silent but deafening at the same time.
And Jake, funny enough, he was the heartbeat of the band, his hands always a blur as they commanded the drums with power and precision, channeling the rhythm that kept everything—and everyone—together. His perpetually messy blonde hair with his loose pants, low enough that they showed the ‘Calvin Klein’ elastic, and no shirt was a statement, as if he didn’t need to try hard to turn heads. He was dynamic, a force of nature on stage that was so effortless yet impactful that it made no doubt why he was one of the best artists, along with his brothers.
As you saw all of them three smiling and soaking in the moment, it popped to your mind that they were one of the few bands that weren’t just performing; they were living, breathing, and thriving under the stage lights, and their presence demanded attention, not because they forced it, but because it was impossible to look away. And you would make sure to give them all your attention with proud tears in your eyes.
You could feel your throat getting sore by the minute because of screaming along with the rest of the crowd; your feet were slightly hurting, though that was actually the least of your problems. About five—maybe eight—songs later, the band took a well-deserved break. Everyone started to take out their phones, including yourself, the moment you all saw Heeseung raising his hands to greet the crowd, flashing his perfect row of teeth that had more than a few people sighing in love.
“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming to our show tonight. Are you having a good time?” he asked. The crowd erupted with various affirmative responses, making the band smile. “That’s a relief to hear. If it’s your first time here, let me introduce ourselves. My name is Heeseung, and I’m the main vocalist and guitarist. To my left is our incredible bassist, Sunghoon; our star guitarist, Jay; and behind us, the best drummer I’ve ever met in my fucking life, Jake.” Each member greeted the crowd in their own way, gaining all the cheers from everyone in the venue.
You turned to see Jake leaning against a speaker with Sunghoon, both of them wiping their sweaty bodies with small towels. The Australian's eyes found yours again, his smirk widening as he caught you staring. He mouthed something—Well, hello there—before taking a swig from his water bottle, something that didn’t go unnoticed by a few fans there, and responding to him, tilting his head back in a way that made your knees weak. Sunghoon leaned in to say something to him, but Jake waved him off with a grin, his focus still locked on you.
“Before we get back to the set, this next song is really special to us; it’s really close to our hearts. Hope you all enjoy it.” Once again, the crowd cheered; now the light was slightly dimmed, leaving a soft blue glow to everyone, an unusual color to use since they only used red lights.
The moment the opening chords were heard, everyone realized it was a new song; you did a small zoom on your phone to only focus on the band, the crowd soon finding themselves swaying to the music, completely captivated by the unreleased song. In the middle of the song, Sunghoon had a bass solo where he got down to interact with the people, going from the back to the front, doing a few stops to interact with as many people as he could. By the time he approached the first row, he stopped in front of you.
Sunghoon knelt down right in front of you, the strap of his bass pressing against his chest as he played with ease, his fingers dancing over the strings and his gaze locking with yours. The corner of his lips quivered into a smirk when he saw the way your mouth hung slightly open, your awe written all over your face due to the talent he had. He leaned closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, not minding the people feeling his exposed arms or grabbing his chest, only you.
Your breath hitched as his smirk got a little wider. Before you could react, he straightened up, still playing, and gave you a wink before moving down the line to interact with other fans. The crowd around went wild, but your heart was pounding too loudly in your ears to care; you laughed in disbelief, forcing yourself back to enjoy the slow rock song. The song ended, and soon, the familiar opening riff of “Karma” blasted through the speakers.
You held your phone high, capturing snippets of the band. Jay took center stage, shredding his guitar like it was an extension of himself, his sharp features illuminated by the flashing lights. Sunghoon and Heeseung joined him at the front; Jake, meanwhile, was behind the drum kit, keeping the tempo tight.
Song after song, the setlist didn’t let anyone down. Fan favorites like “Blockbuster” and “The Walls” both had the entire venue screaming all the lyrics back at them. By the time the band announced their last song, the crowd was buzzing, their energy at its peak. In the middle of everything, you saw how Jay was now the one sitting behind the drums, and Jake picked up another guitar; the surprise on everyone was evident, but considering the fact that Jake was a guitarist who later fell in love with the drums, all of us knew he was not going to disappoint.
“We love you all,” Heeseung said into the microphone, his silver hair damp with sweat. “Thank you for making tonight unforgettable. This last one’s for you. Make some fucking noise!”
The band launched into their closing song, “Shout Out.” Jake and Sunghoon, back to back, played guitar in unison, and Heeseung jumped into the crowd; this was one of the many highlights of the concert. Confetti cannons exploding were the reason the crowd was being showered in glittering red and gold paper. The moment Heeseung went back to the stage, they did their final bows, some of them collecting presents they were being thrown at and others giving the towels they used to clean their sweat by some of the fan requests.
The house lights came on as the band exited the stage, and the crowd began to disperse. You were still on cloud nine when your phone vibrated in your pocket; you answered the call.
“Hey, Da Bi, what’s up?” you said, and you could sense from the other line that she was at a party.
“Y/N, did you forget that today is Sun Hee’s party at the Avalon Club, right?” You opened your eyes wide, already moving through the crowd to go. “Guys, she forgot! Pay me!”
“I’m so sorry; I’m already on my way; I think it’s near, right? I was at the concert.”
“Oh yeah, how was the concert?” You smiled wide at the mention of the concert that you were positive you won’t forget.
“It was incredible,” you said, your voice still hoarse from screaming along to the songs. “I can’t even explain it—everything was perfect. Sunghoon literally stopped right in front of me during his bass solo.”
Da Bi let out a dramatic gasp. “Shut up! Sunghoon? The bassist who looks like he walked straight out of a fantasy novel? You’re kidding!”
“I’m not,” you replied with a laugh. “I think I’m still in shock. And Jake kept looking at me too. I swear, I’m not imagining it.”
Da Bi’s voice rose in excitement. “Okay, now I really need all the details when you get here. You’d better hurry before we drink all the cocktails without you.”
“I’m on it,” you said, weaving your way through the dispersing crowd. “Save me something fruity, okay? I’ll be there soon.”
Ending the call, you quickly pulled up directions to Avalon Club on your phone. It wasn’t too far—a ten-minute walk at most. You adjusted your bag, made sure your phone still had enough charge, and joined the stream of concertgoers heading toward the main exit.
The cool night air hit you as soon as you stepped outside. The streets were alive with post-concert energy, people chatting excitedly about the show or taking pictures with their newly bought merch. You caught sight of a food truck nearby and briefly considered grabbing a snack but decided against it. Sun Hee’s party wasn’t something you could casually walk into late.
As you hurried down the sidewalk, your phone buzzed again. This time it was a message from Da Bi.
Da Bi: The DJ is killing it tonight. Don’t make me send Sun Hee to drag you here!
You laughed under your breath and picked up the pace. The distant thrum of bass from Avalon Club grew louder with each step, and because your tension was too high, you were ready to make your friend happy.
When you finally reached the club, you could see a line of people waiting to get in, the neon sign glowing bright against the night sky. You spotted Da Bi near the entrance, waving frantically when she saw you.
“You made it!” she said, pulling you into a quick hug. “Come on, let’s get inside before Sun Hee loses her mind.”
“Lead the way,” you said with a grin, already feeling the infectious energy of the music pulling you in. Since it was late, about to be eleven p.m., there were more people than usual.
Now that you really took a look at the place, it was packed; the music was pounding through your chest as you and Da Bi weaved through the throng of bodies on the dance floor, the diverse color lights pulsed to the beat, casting an almost hypnotic glow over the crowd. You could see how you two were spotted almost immediately from the VIP section by the birthday girl, waving wildly at the sight of you and your—hopefully—future girlfriend. She wore a sparkly silver dress that shimmered with the minimum movement she made, a drink in her hand and a contagious smile on her face.
“Finally!” Sun Hee exclaimed as you approached, pulling you into a hug. “You’re lucky we love you, or I would’ve sent someone to drag you here myself.”
“I’m sorry, but I have an amazing excuse. The concert was insane,” you replied, laughing as Da Bi pushed a fruity cocktail into your hand and, with his free one, grabbed Da Bi’s hand.
“Drink first, details later,” Da Bi declared, already swaying to the music.
You took a sip, the sweetness and tang refreshing after the rush to get here; you greeted Da Bi’s friends to not be disrespectful. The music shifted to a more upbeat track, and soon the three of you were lost in the rhythm, dancing without a care in the world. Sun Hee’s party was in full swing, complete with a table laden with drinks and snacks for the group.
There was a moment where Sun Hee was almost grinding between you and Da Bi, already drunk enough to even grab you from your neck. Some of the party invites were doing a circle around us, enjoying the show with their own partners or some random person they met at the club. You looked to your left, and you thought that the alcohol on your head was making you create scenarios in relation to what happened at the concert, but when you saw one of them raising his hand right in your direction, you knew you were not losing your mind.
At the corner of the VIP section, you saw Jake with a girl on his lap kissing his neck, his hooded eyes locked with your body and his hand waving at you. You returned the greeting and saw Sunghoon. He was seated beside Jake, a glass of whiskey in his hand, the amber liquid swirling as he tilted it slightly. His sharp gaze was piercing, trailing over your form with intensity. The shadows that the club lights created accentuated his features—his jawline sharp enough to cut, his lips pressed into a faint smirk, only looking away to some fans that recognized them and wanted a sign.
Your eyes went back to Jake, and when he realized that, his smirk deepened as he leaned back further, the girl on his lap completely unaware of the silent exchange happening between you two. Looking around, you found Heeseung and Jay playing drinking games. He whispered something into Sunghoon's ear, making him giggle, and their eyes never left yours, as if daring you to keep looking.
“Holy shit,” Da Bi whispered, her eyes wide and noticing the guys you were looking at. “Are they
?”
“Yes,” you said, barely able to get the word out, mostly because you don’t want them to have the idea that you’re stalking them.
“Okay, now you’re just living in a fantasy,” Da Bi muttered, shaking her head in disbelief as her grip tightened around Sun Hee’s waist.
You turned back to her, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I swear, I didn’t plan this!”
“Well, if this isn’t fate, I don’t know what is,” Sun Hee said, nudging you, her tipsy self still finding the way to speak. “Now, are we going to give them a show or what? Kiss me since you didn’t bring a present."
You looked at Da Bi, and she nodded, giving you the green light to grab the back of Sun Hee’s neck and put your lips together; the euphoria of the moment even made Da Bi not have a care in the world and roam with her hands over the birthday girl's body while kissing her neck.
The crowd around you was eating it up, and you were almost positive that you didn’t have to glance over to know Jake and Sunghoon were still watching—if you act cocky, it is obvious.
Sun Hee broke the kiss with a mischievous laugh, her eyes gleaming as she turned to Da Bi, pulling her into the moment as well, kissing her with passion. The three of you danced together, hands roaming, bodies swaying in sync with the beat. When you finally dared to look back at the VIP section, Jake’s expression was unreadable, and so was Sunghoon's. The girl on his lap was trying to get Jake’s attention by showing more of her cleavage with her hands caressing his chest, but his focus was solely on you. He tilted his head slightly, as if to say, ‘Keep going.’.
Sunghoon, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat, one hand resting on his thigh while the other one played with the back of his neck. His eyes were sharp, following every move you made; he soon reached out to take another sip of his glass, his lips curling into a subtle smirk when your gaze locked with his.
Da Bi leaned close to your ear, her voice barely audible over the music. “Just in case! There are free rooms upstairs!”
You laugh, already knowing what your friend was trying to say. “You’re out of your mind.”
She grinned, nudging you playfully. “You’ve got their attention. Just in case you want to take them both.”
You rolled your eyes at Da Bi's cheeky comment, though your lips curved into a sly grin at the thought of it. "Both? That's ambitious, even for me."
"Oh, fuck off! Don't act like you don't want it. You're practically making them beg from up here." Sun Hee said, looking at you before giving a quick look to the club. "Look, the girl from Jake's lap set off! Go get them!"
"Sun Hee, they are celebrities, and they are already taking pictures of them! If they see me going with even one of them, it’s most likely that they will get my address in no time. Please forget it." You decided to give your attention to Sun Hee, who was dancing with her friends, and you joined in with the iconic Big Bang song ‘Fantastic Baby.’. From the corner of your eye, you saw how Da Bi disappeared.
You stopped dancing when you saw how drunk Sun Hee was and how she was tripping with nothing but her feet, taking her hand so she could sit down at your separate VIP section. Da Bi started looking for the two of you; you caught her attention by putting your hands up in a waving motion. She quickly came, and you decided to go to the bar, coming back soon after with a bottle of water for Sun Hee.
"Where did you go?" You screamed so she could hear you as you sat down beside Da Bi.
"I went to the person that plays with the lights; they will turn them off and play for like half an hour with the colored lights."
"Are you out of your mind?! Why did you do that?!" Da Bi rolled her eyes as her palm touched your exposed thigh; you could also see how the alcohol was getting to her as she did a small giggle and forgot what she was about to say.
"So you can get down with both of them; when was the last time you had really good sex?" Sun Hee entered the conversation. "And if I’m being honest
 I want to fuck Da Bi." You opened your eyes but soon laughed about it.
"You two are insane." You laughed, and just like Da Bi said, the lights turned off to make an entrance to the colored lights, distracting people as more bottles came their way.
"Go grab those sticks and sign that NDA; make us proud!" Da Bi made you stand up and slapped your ass. You walked a few steps before looking back at them; they were already making out, so you had no other choice but to go.
You started to walk to the bar for a shot of vodka to make you even braver to do anything with them; the liquid burned, but at least it did the work to calm your nerves. You exhaled deeply; the calm came to you in contrast to the wild environment you were in. People were coming from left to right to the bar, and soon, a person sat on the free chair next to you.
"You look like you've got something on your mind." His voice was loud enough to make you listen. You knew that voice like the palm of your hand, of course you did. The nerves came back when you saw Jake, leaning casually against the bar and close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.
You raised an eyebrow, swirling the vodka in your second glass before drinking it all, the feeling a little more tolerable than before. “It's not very often that a person of your favorite group looks at you too much and comes to talk to you. You know?"
"You grabbed my eyes at the concert. Did you enjoy the show, by the way?" The smoothness of Jake’s voice near your ear when he decided to move closer captivated you. It was not the first time you heard his voice, but having it near you was such a different thing. Because of the closure between the two of you, you could see how his shirt was open just enough to tease the edge of a tattoo on his collarbone, smirking at the memory of him being shirtless in the show.
“You guys were unforgettable. You sang my favorite songs.” Your comment made Jake chuckle, not in a funny manner, but in a proud one.
“Good. I’d hate to think all the effort went unnoticed.” You got brave enough to create a small distance between the two of you, if it was possible, noticing how his gaze dipped and looked at your lips, lingering just long enough to make your cheeks warm.
“Sorry about him; he likes to flirt a lot.” A loud voice appeared, and by the smile on Jake’s face, you could think it was Sunghoon, and sure it was, once your head turned around to the direction of the voice. Your eyes met, and Sunghoon gave a side smile, a very common gesture of his. “I’m Sunghoon.”
“I already know that, but it's really nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” You grabbed his extended hand when you noticed it, his thumb caressing the top of it before letting it go. “I’m a fan since your MCR YouTube covers.”
Sunghoon’s smile now grew bigger, his characteristic shy smile with his fangs showing up and a genuine smile from Jake. “Wow, it’s been a while since we’ve heard that.”
“We’re lucky then; thank you for sticking around this long.” Jake said, and you grab another shot on your way, drinking it all at once and ordering some for Jake and Sunghoon. The moment they arrive, you point at them.
“Thank you for drinking these shots,” you teased, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. The bartender gave you six shots; the boys looked at each other before drinking three each of them. The DJ changed the music, people practically screaming when the speakers were blasting “Don’t Stop The Music” by Rihanna. You stood up and walked a few steps away before turning to them. “Wanna dance?”
“Who are you asking?” Sunghoon said, pointing at him and later, Jake.
“To both of you.” You tilted your head to look at them both, and Jake stood up from his chair. You went a little deeper into the crowd, and soon you felt a presence behind you. Jake gave you a smirk before grabbing your hips, and Sunghoon found his way in front of you, and your drunk self wrapped your arms behind his neck.
All the people were stuck together, and the sultry rhythm made you feel both of their bodies so close to you that you locked eyes with Sunghoon again, and just like Jake minutes before, his gaze went to your glossy lips and right back to your eyes.
“You don’t have to be shy,” you teased; your voice was just loud enough to be heard over the music.
One of his hands left your waist and directly moved your hair aside to speak directly through your ear. “I don’t think I am. We just don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or forced to do anything.”
“You both don’t make me feel any of those things. You two make me feel good". You gave a small laugh after the double senses of your last sentence, gaining a small smile from him as he noticed your voice steady and sure despite the alcohol.
“We can make you feel good.” Sunghoon’s hand on your waist traced imaginary figures on your sides; your right hand travelled sensually from his shoulder to the back of his head, softly grabbing some of his hair, a dominant move from your part.
“You have permission to prove it,” the words left your mouth, and his hand threw your hair back completely before giving a small bite on your ear, making you shut your eyes as you sighed. He started to pamper kisses from the back of your ear to your neck, feeling how he suctioned softly a couple of times and gaining soft moans from you, throwing your head back and falling on Jake’s chest in the process when he found a specific spot on your neck.
Jake watched everything, and you could tell how he was enjoying it fully; he saw how you opened your eyes to connect with his eyes, and you grabbed his right hand to put it right on the front of your neck, feeling the coolness of his rings making a contrast with your warm skin.
“Kiss me.” You didn’t have to tell him twice when his lips crashed with yours, and it was everything you expected as the moment was turning more intimate—intense, dirty, and needy. His hand tightened slightly around your neck as the kiss deepened, slightly limiting the oxygen you were breathing while feeling the coolness of your middle lip piercing. Sunghoon didn’t stop either; his hands went slowly to your ass, squishing the flesh of it as he was watching, slowly losing all self-control. All three had lust in their eyes.
The moment Jake left your lips, he made your head turn to Sunghoon, your hand flying to the back of his head again as he kissed you. His kiss was more sensual, he was practically savoring the moment, but when his tongue brushed against your bottom lip in a way to seek permission, it became rougher losing it when he sucked your tongue, and action that you secretly loved, his lips catching the sinful moan you gave to him. Now, you could feel Jake’s plump lips attacking the other side of your neck, and you smiled in the middle of the kiss.
Sunghoon bit your bottom lip, sighing at your state, his left hand stopping on your face to caress your cheek, watching your swollen lips and cleaning some of the saliva from the corner of your lips; you quickly wrapped your lips around his thumb when he touched your bottom lip with a teasing smirk playing on your face. The sudden move made Sunghoon's brows raise, his lips curving into a cocky grin.
“You look like a dream.” Sunghoon said, and Jake hummed in response.
“I look even better naked.” You didn’t want to sound like a ‘pick me,’ but if there was a chance to actually have them both by the end of the night, you wouldn’t waste it.
“Sunghoon, go to the manager so he can rent the room above us.” Since Jake was the oldest, he nodded and went to find him, making his way quietly in the crowd so he couldn't be seen. You and Jake made your way to a nonvisible corner following Sunghoon with the same caution as his friend, who ended up talking to one person that you recognize as the manager.
The club was still dark, green lights flashing every now and then with the beat of electronic music. Jake leaned casually against the wall of the reached corner, diving back to your lips and kissing you slowly, not trying to rush things despite having your approval. His hand was going south, handfully grabbing your ass while yours went to his shirt, undoing one button.
“All done; we can go to the room.” Sunghoon’s voice interrupted the moment, all three going through the hidden stairs to the last room of the hallway between laughs and slight touches. With a key, Sunghoon opened the door, making you enter first, the both of them joining right after.
The door clicked shut behind them, and the low thrum of the club music faded into a distant hum. Your hands were instantly placed on each side of your jacket, removing it and tossing it to an individual couch in the room, not noticing that Sunghoon was also taking his leather jacket off his body to leave it on a table as well as his rings. Jake came closer to you, his hand reaching for yours to put your chests together.
“Are you sure about this?” You could tell he asked for both of them, but you had already planted the idea in your head.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Sunghoon approaches you after a few moments, his hands finding your waist as he draws you in for another kiss, hearing Jake scoffing at the action. You felt how his kiss was slow until it became rough like the one you had on the dance floor. Despite the heat that was radiating from both of you, his hands felt cold when they went to lower the back zipper of your dress, yours going immediately to his belt.
Jake’s presence loomed behind you, his hands brushing along your arms before resting on your hips. “Don’t get greedy, Hoon.” Jake’s breath was hot against your ear, and before going down your neck, you felt the cool air touch your back when Sunghoon successfully zipped down the dress and Jake let the fabric fall to the floor in a soft heap.
Sunghoon went directly to your back, separating Jake slightly, feeling how your bra got loose in a quick motion. You took the end of his white shirt, taking it off him with his help; meeting his unknown belly button piercing, a small gasp left your mouth. Usually, men will only have the traditional piercing, the two dots, but you will never imagine seeing a silver cross-shaped, dangling belly button piercing. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips. When the fuck did he get that?
“Not what you expected?” You denied it, and your hands went to his small waist, fingers lingering on the pretty jewelry.
“But it suits you.” You smiled as you made a 180° turn to face the Aussie boy, clamming his lips in a kiss. His hands softly gripping your breasts and smiling in delight with how you made them know how good they were making you feel, just like they said. You could feel Sunghoon's hand playing with the strings of your thong, snapping the elastic to your skin, making you grow desperate due to his little game.
"Fuck, just take it off," the exasperation was very noticeable by the tone you used, the sound of how SUnghoon spanked your ass resonated in unison with your gasp.
"Easy, baby." Jake guided you to sit on his lap on the edge of the bed, his erection trying to get out of his pants, but you were getting distracted by how Sunghoon kneeled in front of you. "Let me take your shoes off."
He took your heel boots easily and put them away; his hands caressed your legs from your ankles to your thighs, his lips leaving kisses in the process. You threw your head back to Jake's shoulders the moment his veiny hands grabbed once again your tits, his index and thumb playing with your nipples. All the sensations you were experiencing were embarrassingly noticeable on your underwear, sticking into your cunt.
Sunghoon’s hands slid higher up your thighs, not being able to see the mischievous glint in his eyes due to Jake abusing every spot on your neck. He leaned in, pressing his lips to your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make you shiver. Sunghoon’s fingers hooked into the sides of your thong, pulling it down slowly, his eyes never leaving your entrance. The fabric slid down your legs, and he tossed it aside, his hands returning to your thighs to spread them gently.
He trailed kisses higher and higher, causing small shivers through your entire body, a reason why Jake's hands moved down your waist to hold you steady the moment you squirmed at the sensation of Sunghoon's tongue against your core; moans falling from your mouth when his fingers went deep in you, stretching you out.
"You're so responsive," Jake said, his left arm hugging your body as the other hand went again to one of your nipples to pinch it, trembling at the combination. "You will hold your orgasm; can you do that for us?"
“Y-yes, I can, just
 don’t stop, please.”
“Fuck, you’re such a good girl.” You could only nod since your voice caught in your throat as Sunghoon continued his work, alternating between slow, almost teasing strokes and firm fingering. "Sunghoon, let me."
You whined when Jake stood up and left you with your legs open; he lowered himself to the same level as your wet cunt and eagerly licked a long strip, collecting as much as he could of your arousal to make a stop on your clit. You laid down completely on the bed in a moaning mess, incoherent words coming from you that you couldn’t even understand when Sunghoon's tongue joined, fucking you as deep as he could. Both of your hands went to their heads to create a grip on their hairlocks; Jake hummed to your action, the vibration of it causing that familiar knot to almost snap.
“Please stop, please, please.” You were begging at this point; Sunghoon separated from you with his fingers inside you this time, curling them to touch that sweet spot that you sometimes couldn’t even reach yourself.
"You better give me a good reason," he said, nonstopping his movements and even making them faster. Your moans got higher as you tried to speak, looking for the perfect timing.
"I want to cum on your dicks." Your comment made both guys freeze for a moment, their eyes meeting over your trembling form. Jake let out a low chuckle, and his hand brushed your hair away from your face with his mouth and chin glistening from eating you out. “Please, daddies.”
You truly didn’t know what got into you; the word simply slipped out, tumbling from your lips before your brain could catch up. The room went silent, and a heavy tension hung in the air. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you froze, unsure whether to apologize or fake yourself passing out, but that last one would be too pathetic.
Jake’s hands guided you to sit down, and he walked straight to you. Your hair was formed into a messy ponytail by Jake. To make you look up, you gasped at the sweet feel of the slight pain that caused. “Be a good girl and help Daddy out, then.” Your hands travelled fast to his belt and boxers, hissing the moment he saw your doe eyes looking at his hooded ones with your hand wrapping his dick.
Sunghoon went to one of the drawers, and after some searching, he came to your spot and threw condoms and a half-empty lube.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Jake." You hand-wrapped around his length, his head being thrown back when you put a certain amount of pressure. You looked back; Sunghoon was almost naked, his black boxers still on, not helping with hiding his erection. "Let me help you so you can join."
With your free hand, you grabbed the elastic and took them down with his help. Sunghoon's dick had slightly more girth than Jake's, but the same length. He stood up next to him, your free hand positioned on Sunghoon’s hip before you left a kitty lick on his tip, being rewarded by Sunghoon’s soft groan.
You started slow movements, your hands sliding up and down their lengths, enjoying the way their breaths hitched and their eyes showed you how much they liked it. Jake’s hips bucked slightly into your touch, making you lean forward to put your lips together around Jake’s tip, swirling your tongue and earning a sharp intake of breath. Sunghoon groaned softly, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Fuck, you’re taking me so good.” You heard Jake moan, so you went a little bit deeper, his hand not wasting time to put it behind your head, grabbing your hair in a messy ponytail to see how you fully took him. You took him deeper, his tip touching the back of your throat and making yourself gag around him, the vibrations causing his body to shake slightly and hold Sunghoon’s shoulder, who was also losing his mind. You were bobbing your head up and down, and the hand that was on Sunghoon’s length followed the slightly fast pace you were creating.
After a few more minutes of controlling his orgasm, you turned your attention to Sunghoon, taking him into your mouth as you continued to pump Jake. And just like Jake, his hand went directly to do the same messy ponytail.
“G-God, this feels
 s-so good.” An idea popped out in your brain as you took him out of your mouth; hearing him whimpering was not something you expected, but it did make you even wetter for both of them. “P-Please, go deeper.”
You let him go out of your mouth as you spat on it for extra lubrication, “You mean like this?” You focused on breathing through your nose, relaxing your throat in the process as you took him deeper; Sunghoon’s hips bucked forward, hitting that little bell that actually made your eyes water.
“Fuck, y-yes, baby. Don’t stop, please.” Time passed, and you saw Sunghoon's polite facade turning off; the back of your head still got his hand behind it, with the difference that he was going deeply and roughly, trying to release himself. He was about to speak out when you once again took him out of your mouth but soon created a small choir of moans and groans when you made his and Jake’s dicks be placed right next to each other as you pathetically tried to suck on their tips, the corners of your mouths hurting.
You were going back and forth, hearing them praising you, only motivating you to suck them off even more; their moans grew louder, and that was your cue to stop. You looked up to meet their eyes. “Someone please sit on the bed.”
Sunghoon was faster as he sat on the bed, taking the condoms and lube to his side. You crawled right on top of him, his tip touching your wet entrance at the action. You initiated a kiss; he was tasting himself through that kiss, feeling that he liked it when his hand went to the back of your neck, tongues touching and creating even more wet sounds.
“Are you going to keep sucking me, baby?” Jake’s voice made its way into the room; you looked around and grabbed the lube in your hand. He was confused at first, but soon opened his eyes when he realized what you intended to do. “Holy fuck, you want to kill me.”
Jake gave a small peck on your lips before going behind you; his hands gripped your hips, making you position yourself on all fours; the coolness of the lube touched your anus. While Jake dedicated himself to spreading and combining the lube with your arousal, Sunghoon took your face to pamper kisses. This time, they were sweet enough to distract you, locking his eyes with yours.
"How can I make you relax better, princess?" you thought about it, smiling softly at him.
"How about a 69?" The moment his lips went to your cunt at first, you could tell how much of a munch guy he was, like it was a life-or-death mission to leave you empty. Sunghoon smiled, both of you getting comfortable at the position.
You got once again his pretty dick in front of you; the red color of the base was evident, the tip shining due to the precum that you wanted to lick. You felt his kisses once again in your inner thighs, his thick fingers pushing into the skin of your ass, spreading it apart for him and Jake.
"I'm going to finger you first. Can you relax for me, baby?" Jake's voice was deeper than before. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as Jake's voice resonated in your ears.
Sunghoon was utterly absorbed, his lips and tongue working on you like a starving man, his fingers gripping behind your thighs for a moment before going back to your ass, holding you steady as you took him in your mouth.
Jake’s fingers traced teasing circles, spreading the lube evenly while ensuring you adjusted to the sensation. You sat for a moment on Sunghoon's face, and Jake took that opportunity to lean in closer, his breath hot against the back of your neck as he murmured, "Let me know if it's too much, baby. We want you to be comfortable."
You went back to being on all fours, licking Sunghoon's tip again before going all in and sucking him off, his moans vibrating right on your cunt.
"I want you to breathe for me, baby." You did what he said, feeling his fingertip barely pressing against the tight ring of muscle, giving you time to adjust. "You're doing so well, such a good girl." His praise made you wetter, arousal that Sunghoon licked every time.
"F-fuck, princess. Please take me deeper." You heard Sunghoon's whiny voice, so pretty, and you took it as you could, gagging around him and gaining a small spank. "Shit, sorry."
"Please do it again, Hoon." You said it was embarrassing how much you liked it and how you didn’t even think of what you were about to say, like you did this whole night. Your mind was out of it in pleasure. His palm spanked the plush skin of your ass again, more arousal creating on your entrance.
Jake's hand tightened on your hips, his fingers moving in a slow but deep rhythm, coaxing your body to adjust to his touch. You moaned softly around Sunghoon's length, your focus split between Jake's patient teasing and Sunghoon's growing desperation.
Sunghoon let out a deep groan, his mouth taking deep breaths to rest for a moment. “You’re doing so well, princess. Look at you, so pretty with your mouth full of me.” His voice was strained, trembling with need as your tongue worked over him.
His words sent a shiver through you as Jake's fingers finally pushed deeper, carefully allowing you to adjust once again to the sensation. Your body tensed at first, but the combination of Sunghoon’s tongue on your clit and Jake’s soothing words eased you into the moment.
“Relax, baby,” Jake whispered, “You’re taking me so well. Just breathe.”
You moaned around Sunghoon, your body relaxing as you followed Jake’s guidance. Sunghoon’s hand tightened in your ass, his breaths coming faster as he tried to hold back. “F-fuck, Y/N, you’re going to make me lose it.”
Jake chuckled softly behind you, his tone filled with both amusement and desire. “Not yet, Hoon. Let’s make this last.”
Jake added a second finger, stretching you; his other hand trailed up your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake and feeling how he pushed you down, making you gag around Sunghoon. Sunghoon’s hips bucked slightly against your lips, and you responded by hollowing your cheeks, taking him even deeper.
Jake's fingers began to thrust once he saw you moving your ass towards him, and Sunghoon went back to thrusting your entrance with his tongue. You had to stop sucking Sunghoon to let all the moans and gasps free.
"Fuck, d-daddies." You put your hands on Sunghoon's thighs for support, feeling your legs shaking. "You two are so good for me, shit!"
Jake's pace quickened to drive you to the edge, and Sunghoon was unwilling to let you catch your breath as he groaned against your core as his tongue thrust deeper, his lips teasing every sensitive spot.
“Look at you,” Jake murmured, his voice husky and low as he leaned over you. His lips brushed against your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine. “Such a needy little slut for us. Tell me how much you love it.”
“I—ah—I love it so much, Daddy.” You managed to gasp, your voice shaking with pleasure. “You’re both—fuck—so good.”
Sunghoon chuckled against you as he focused on pulling every last sound out of you. “You taste so good,” he said between licks, his breath warm against your skin. “Don’t hold back. We want to hear from you, baby.”
Your body trembled, your knees threatening to give you out as the sensation was consuming you. Jake’s fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with each thrust, while Sunghoon’s fingers pounded in and suctioned on your clit. You cried out, your head falling back as your pleasure built to an unbearable peak.
“Daddy, I’m so close,” you whimpered, your fingers digging into Sunghoon’s thighs as your legs quivered.
Jake’s fingers withdrew suddenly, leaving you empty and aching. Sunghoon stopped his movements, mesmerized by how your pussy was clenching around nothing, eager to have someone inside you. Sunghoon separated you from his body; to sit properly with his back touching the bed headboard, he reached for a condom, ripping the packaging off and sliding the condom through his dick, twitching due to the sensitivity.
You crawled to him, lips kissing as you tasted yourself; your hand reached to his throat and applied pressure on it, an action that made him groan. You separate from him as you look at him.
“You also like that, huh?” Your teasing came flat as his hand went to your throat while his free one went directly to your pussy; you jumped as he inserted two fingers inside you.
“Don’t test me.” He lost his grip and kissed you back, no stopping his movements. You got on your knees on top of him when he stopped; he aligned himself in your entrance, and you slowly got lower, not holding the loud moan at feeling of finally being filled. In the meantime, Jake also put on a condom and went behind you, aligning himself as he also went inside you slowly; both of your holes were filled, and it was like all three were touching heaven in every way.
A few moments later, it was you who started to move as you could before they started thrusting into you; by their gasp of air and incoherent words that would leave from their throats, it was clear that they were enjoying it as much as you were as they moved in perfect unison, somehow synchronizing with the rhythm of your trembling form.
You were so wet that it was easy for both of them to go faster than before, touching spots that you never thought you had, their trust growing more confident, each one coaxing gasps and cries from your lips that only encouraged them further.
“Look at me, pretty,” Sunghoon's voice entered your ears, your blurry vision focusing on him as much as you could; his mullet was messy, swollen lips from the kissing and biting his lower lip, and eyes hooded from all the ecstasy he was feeling, “A pretty doll losing her mind for our cocks, right?”
“Y-yes! You fuck me so good.” you said, motivating the two of them as they went even faster, if that could be possible. “Daddy! I’m going to cum.”
Your walls unconsciously clenched around Sunghoon the moment Jake went deeper, stimulating even more the coil that they were creating. Sunghoon was now the first to stop; it took you back a little, but even more how he turned you around. You were now facing Jake’s fucked-out expression; Jake shared almost the same expression as Sunghoon, with the difference of his glossy eyes, the pleasure even being too much for him.
You felt how Sunghoon’s dick made its way to your wet ring muscle, occupying Jake’s spot. Jake could see how your eyes rolled and your mouth opened to let out the prettiest whines and moans, his mind already making scenarios of that same expression as he entered inside you.
He pumped his painfully hard dick before pushing himself inside you with ease; the double penetration was fast from the beginning. Your hands were extended behind you for support, and Sunghoon’s hands held you steady as Jake’s fast movements created friction for all of them; the bed was moving because of the mingling with the symphony of breathless moans and whispered praises.
“I—I need to cum! Please, daddies, let me cum.” You started to beg, an action that made Jake smile with cockiness.
“Let go, baby. You deserve it.” Sunghoon whispered in your ear, one of his hands going directly to your clit. “Let me help you.”
His fingers moved as fast on your bundle of nerves, and the coil inside you unraveled, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your cries filled the room, your squirt making a mess in all of you three.
“Let’s leave her empty, Jake.” And they sure did that until the last drop of squirt left your body, both of them guiding you through the overwhelming sensation. Sunghoon followed soon after, his lips on your hips tightening as he reached his peak, a deep groan escaping his lips. Jake was the last to fall, his head resting on the curve that connected your neck and shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.
You felt even more empty when they let go of you, their condoms full of their semen as they threw them in the trash after they did a knot in them. The three of you collapsed onto the bed in a tangled heap, the aftermath of what happened leaving you breathless and content. You passed your hands to your face, knowing that your mascara definitely was ruined and you looked a mess.
Sunghoon’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as Jake’s fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, basking in the after in the quiet room.
“This is probably the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.” Jake said, making you and Sunghoon laugh.
“Glad I could make that happen,” you said, taking your hand to his cheek and leaving a small peck on his lips.
“And this is our first time having sex with a fan, or having a threesome in general.” Sunghoon’s comment shocked you, feeling a surge of pride due to his comment. You smiled shyly.
“I’m also glad to be your two firsts on that.”
Jake chuckled, pulling you closer into the warmth of his chest. “Well, you’ve definitely set the bar pretty damn high. I don’t think anyone could top this.”
Sunghoon smirked, propping himself up on one elbow as his fingers traced absentminded circles along your arm. “We should’ve done this sooner. But
” He hesitated for a moment, exchanging a glance with Jake. “There’s one small thing we need to take care of.”
“Signing an NDA?” you said with a smile, resting importance on it. “I can give your manager my number so he can deliver the paper. Or do you do that online?”
Sunghoon laughed softly at your comment, shaking his head. “Not exactly the romantic pillow talk I had in mind, but yeah, we need you to sign an NDA. It’s not personal, just
 well, you know how things can get.”
Jake leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple. “We trust you, but this is more for everyone’s peace of mind. You understand, right?”
“Of course,” you replied, your tone reassuring. “I get it completely. I’d probably do the same if I were in your position.” You reached over to the bedside table for your phone, all of your phones were there thanks to Sunghoon, who stood up and grab all of them three. “So, how does this work? Should I text my info to your manager?”
Sunghoon tilted his head, clearly impressed by your level-headed response. “We’ll handle it. Our team can send it to you digitally, or if you’re comfortable, we can go over it together before you leave.”
Jake gave a lopsided grin. “Thank you for taking it well. Most people would freak out or make it awkward.”
“I don’t plan on ruining the best night of my life by overthinking,” you said, smirking. “Plus, I kind of expected this. It’s not like I can go around bragging about having a threesome with my favorite artist.”
They both laughed, and the tension in the air eased. Sunghoon leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thanks for understanding. We’ll make it quick and painless.”
Jake grabbed his phone too, scrolling through it for a moment. “I’ll shoot a message to our manager and let him know. They’ll probably have it ready in a few minutes.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the surreal nature of the situation. Here you were, tangled in the sheets with two idols, discussing legal documents. “This has to be the strangest post-sex conversation I’ve ever had.”
“Well, it’s a first for us too,” Sunghoon admitted, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But I think it’s safe to say this was worth it.”
Jake nodded in agreement, setting his phone down as he pulled you both closer. “Definitely worth it. And who knows? Maybe we’ll need to renegotiate the terms if we ever want to do this again.”
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─── DON'T MIND ME, I <3 ROCKSTARS! I really got into it, hope this is a good enough blog to come back to enhablr, sorry if it's too long, got carried away as you saw. any grammar mistakes will be solved later!
𓄮 𝐓aglist (mostly moots!): @hheeluv @awqken @taeghi @caratstick @021894s @hees-love @heechwe @yangkkomi @dollyyun @wwooyology @ja3yun @v1rtu4ld0ll @firstclassjaylee
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luckystay · 7 months ago
Text
𝙞𝙣 đ™—đ™šđ™©đ™Źđ™šđ™šđ™Ł
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words count: 7k
Relationships: bsf!bangchan x fem!reader x bsf!hyunjin
Synopsis: after years of friendship, you're shocked to learn your best friends aren’t gay, and are in-fact attracted to you.
Warnings: smut with plot, mutual pining, threesome (mfm), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), heavy sexual tension, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, light manhandling, praise kink, mild jealousy, mentions of insecurity, alcohol consumption, and swearing.
(Minors, please do not interact!)
A/N: again did not proofread, also i'm having so many issues writing smut any advice can help.
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Chan was the first person I spoke to on my first day at university. I still remember the way he approached me—this energetic, smiling guy who exuded confidence, a kind of confidence I couldn’t even imagine having.
At first, I thought maybe he was just being polite, trying to make the nervous girl feel more at ease. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that wasn’t the case. Chan wasn’t just friendly—he had this way about him that made you feel like you were the most important person in the room. It wasn’t something he tried to do; it just came naturally. We clicked immediately, and by the end of our conversation, I found myself laughing at his jokes, sharing stories, and feeling a sense of comfort I hadn’t expected.
After that, I didn’t really have to make any more friends. Chan took care of it. He introduced me to his friends, and just like that, I found myself a part of a whole new group. Felix, with his sweet nature and infectious laugh, Jisung, who always seemed to know how to make me laugh no matter how exhausted I was, and then there was chan’s roommate Hyunjin.
Hyunjin was different. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated at first. He was... well, he was hot—too hot, actually. Tall, effortlessly cool, with an air of quiet intensity that seemed to draw people in. Honestly, I thought he was out of my league. Every time I tried to talk to him, I’d stumble over my words, my face flushing under his steady gaze. I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious whenever he was around, like his confidence only highlighted how awkward I felt.
But all that changed when I started spending more time with them. Chan, being my main friend, and Hyunjin, being his roommate, meant I was bound to be around him a lot.
To my surprise, I started to see a different side of Hyunjin. The intimidating vibe? It wasn’t really who he was. He had a sense of humor—quirky, odd even, but adorable. Once he felt comfortable around me, he let his guard down, and I found myself enjoying his company more and more. He wasn’t the aloof, untouchable guy I’d once thought he was. He was just Hyunjin—relatable, funny, and incredibly easy to talk to.
All throughout university their dorm room became my unofficial home. i’d spend hours there—study sessions that turned into late-night talks, long gaming marathons, and movie nights that always ended with one of us falling asleep in some awkward position on the couch.
We became this inseparable trio. We went through heartbreaks together, laughed over drunk nights, celebrated wins, and comforted each other through the lows
Slowly but surely, my feelings for Hyunjin evolved. He wasn’t some crush anymore—he was my best friend. Over time, I stopped thinking about him in that way entirely.
I knew both Hyunjin and Chan were hooking up with people now and then, but we had this unspoken rule in our friendship: unless it was serious, we didn’t talk about it. That part of our lives stayed private, and I was okay with that. It wasn’t something we needed to discuss, but in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder sometimes.
Eventually, though, I settled on an assumption that made everything easier. The way Hyunjin and Chan were with each other, so effortlessly close and affectionate—it just made sense. They had to be gay, right? That explained the mystery, the privacy, everything. And honestly, it was fine with me. I wasn’t interested in either of them like that, and they didn’t seem interested in me. Our bond worked perfectly the way it was.
Or so I thought.
Now fresh out of uni, we found ourselves navigating adulthood together. Jobs, bills, responsibilities—it was a new world, but at least we had each other. Moving in together felt like a natural extension of our bond. Splitting rent made financial sense, but beyond that, we weren’t ready to let go of the dynamic we’d built.
The house wasn’t huge, but it had just enough space for the three of us to feel at home. It was chaotic at times, sure—Hyunjin’s half-finished art projects scattered across the living room, Chan’s endless work-from-home setup that seemed to expand every week, and my collection of books and mismatched mugs taking over the kitchen. But it worked. It always did with us.
living together now was... different. They weren’t just my friends anymore; they were men. And men like Chan and Hyunjin? They were impossible to ignore.
Physically, the changes were obvious. Chan’s broad shoulders and steady presence commanded a room effortlessly, while Hyunjin’s sharp jawline and lean, athletic build seemed designed to draw attention. They moved with purpose now, their every gesture confident and deliberate. But it wasn’t just how they looked—it was how they treated me.
In university, we were a chaotic trio, all equals in the chaos of growing up. But now? Now, they treated me like I was something precious.
Chan, always the dependable one, had become a protector in ways that felt heavier, more deliberate. He’d steady me with a hand on my lower back when we crossed busy streets, or hold open doors without a second thought. When we walked home late at night, he’d position himself closest to the curb, glancing over his shoulder every so often to make sure I was okay.
Hyunjin, for all his teasing, had a subtle gentleness that made my breath hitch. He’d help me carry groceries without being asked, his hand brushing against mine as he took the heavier bags. When I complained about how sore my shoulders were after work, he didn’t hesitate—just walked up behind me, warm hands massaging out the tension.
their touches were what really undid me.
It wasn’t like before, when their hands would land on my shoulder or ruffle my hair in passing. Now, every touch lingered. Chan’s hand on my waist as he guided me through a crowded room felt possessive in a way that sent shivers down my spine. Hyunjin’s fingers brushing a stray hair out of my face felt more intimate than it should have been.
And it wasn’t just the touches—it was how easily they did it, how natural it seemed for them to manhandle me in small ways. Chan would reach over me without warning, his chest brushing my back as he grabbed something off the top shelf. Hyunjin would wrap an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer on the couch as he teased me about some show we were watching.
It was maddening. I’d tell myself it didn’t mean anything, that we were just friends. But the truth was; having two ridiculously attractive men treating me like this? Protecting me, touching me, looking at me the way they did? It was impossible to ignore the heat that simmered beneath the surface.
And the worst part? They didn’t even seem to notice what they were doing to me. To them, it was all so casual, so natural. But to me, it was intoxicating. Every brush of their hands, every low chuckle, every whispered “you okay?” left me more confused and yearning than ever.
Tonight, I’d slipped into a cream-colored sweater, paired with a black mini skirt that showed off a teasing amount of leg. It wasn’t like I’d dressed up for any particular reason; Felix and Jisung were coming over for dinner, and I wanted to look nice. Simple as that.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
The kitchen was filled with the rich scent of garlic, onions, and herbs. hyunjin stirring something on the stove. His broad shoulders filled out the fitted black shirt he was wearing, and the veins in his forearms flexed as he moved the spoon in lazy circles. When I entered, the sound of my footsteps seemed to grab his attention. His eyes flicked up, scanning me from head to toe before settling on my face. It was quick, but it wasn’t subtle. There was no hiding the way his gaze dropped, the look lingering just a moment too long on my legs before lifting back up. His lips curled into a smirk, just a little, and I felt my heart race.
“You look nice,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too casual.
I could feel the heat creeping up my neck as I shrugged. “It’s just dinner.”
I crossed the space between us, standing close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. His broad frame cast a shadow over me, and I instinctively tilted my head back to look up at him. He was taller than I remembered—taller, broader. The way his body seemed to fill the space made it hard to breathe for a moment.
“Thought I’d see if you needed help,” I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice was a little shakier than I wanted. I knew I had no idea how to cook, but standing this close to him made my mind scramble for anything to say.
“Help?” he repeated, his smirk deepening, his voice almost teasing. “You don’t even know where we keep the knives.”
“Not the point,” I shot back, hoping my words sounded more confident than I felt. My hands were already a little clammy, and my stomach twisted in knots.
Before I could say anything else, I felt a warmth at my back, and the unmistakable presence of Chan, who had entered quietly. His hand brushed lightly against the small of my back, his fingers just barely grazing my skin, and I froze.
Chan was  wearing his usual jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clung to his chest in ways that made it hard to look away.
“Stealing her already?” Chan’s voice was light, almost teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something I couldn’t quite place. His fingers lingered for a second longer, just enough to make me painfully aware of how close he was. I felt my breath hitch in my throat.
“Wasn’t stealing,” Hyunjin responded, still holding my gaze, his voice casual but there was that underlying heat again, like he knew exactly what was going on. “She just knows I’m the best cook.”
I shifted slightly, crossing my legs without thinking, trying to hide the sudden flutter of heat I felt coursing through me. Chan’s hand didn’t leave my back, his touch light but somehow heavy all at once. I tried to focus on the conversation, on the joke they were making, but it felt almost impossible. The tension in the room was thick, and it felt like both of them were acutely aware of how close we were, of the way my body responded to them.
“Don’t steal her for yourself just yet,” Chan teased, a playful glint in his eyes. “We still need her to taste-test.”
I managed to force out a laugh, but it felt weak compared to the way my body was reacting to their proximity. The casual banter, the touches, the way their eyes lingered—everything felt too intimate. It was as if the friendship we’d built over the years was beginning to blur, and I didn’t know how to pull away from it.
This is not how friends should feel towards each other right?
Dinner was lively, filled with laughter and chatter as always, you were seated between Hyunjin and Felix, with Chan directly across from you, you couldn’t escape the charged atmosphere no matter how hard you tried.
The first real jolt came when you reached across the table for the salt shaker. It had been sitting just out of reach, and without thinking, you leaned forward to grab it. Before you could touch it, two hands moved toward it simultaneously—Chan’s from across the table, and Hyunjin’s from beside you.
Hyunjin’s arm brushed your shoulder as he leaned over, the scent of his cologne filling the space between you. He reached it first, but the motion brought him close—too close. You were painfully aware of the way his body crowded yours, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the table for a moment.
“Got it,” Hyunjin said softly, his voice carrying an almost teasing edge as he passed the shaker to you. His fingers lingered just a second too long against yours, and when you looked up, you were met with his dark, unreadable gaze.
Chan cleared his throat, drawing your attention. You glanced across the table to see him watching the exchange with an expression that was... difficult to place. There was no annoyance there, just something thoughtful, like he was curious.
“Thanks,” you mumbled, quickly adjusting in your seat and trying to shake the warmth creeping up your neck.
As the meal continued, the little moments piled on. Hyunjin’s knee brushing yours under the table, his hand casually resting on the back of your chair when he leaned over to speak to Felix. Chan’s gaze, heavy and unwavering, each time you glanced up from your plate. Even Felix, with his sweet, innocent charm, seemed to sense the tension in the air, his eyes darting between the three of you like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
Finally, Felix leaned in closer, nudging your shoulder gently. “Hey,” he said, his voice low. “Do you still have that cream? The one for sore muscles? My neck’s been killing me.”
The request caught you off guard, but you nodded quickly, grateful for an excuse to escape. “Yeah, I think it’s in my room. Come on, I’ll grab it for you.”
You pushed your chair back, standing up and smoothing your skirt. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the way Chan’s gaze followed you, lingering just a beat too long. Hyunjin’s head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to read something in your movements.
The moment you stepped into your room and closed the door, Felix turned to you with an expression you didn’t entirely expect. His usual warm smile was replaced with something sharper, something knowing.
“Alright,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Spill.”
You frowned, genuinely confused. “Spill what?”
Felix arched a brow, his lips quirking into a slight smirk. “Don’t play dumb. What’s going on with you three?”
Your stomach flipped, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “Nothing’s going on. What are you even talking about?”
Felix’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by a look of gentle concern. “You really don’t see it, do you?”
“See what?” you asked, pulling open a drawer to search for the cream.
Felix sighed, stepping closer. “The way they look at you. The way they act around you. It’s like... it’s so obvious. I don’t know how you’re so clueless.”
You froze, your hand hovering over the drawer’s contents. “Felix, they’re
 you know. They’re gay.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then Felix let out a low, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, stepping closer. “you’re so far off.”
Your brow furrowed as you turned to face him fully. “What do you mean? They’re gay. I’ve known them for years, Lix. They’ve never once mentioned being into girls. Not once. And the way they are with each other
” You trailed off, your voice losing conviction under Felix’s knowing stare.
“They’re not gay,” Felix said gently, his tone almost pitying. “Bisexual? Yeah, sure. But gay? Not even close.”
The words felt like they didn’t compute, like Felix had just told you the sky was green. “No way,” you said, shaking your head. “You’re messing with me.”
“I’m not,” Felix said, his voice soft but firm. “Look, I’ve known them longer than you have. And trust me, if you paid even a little attention, you’d notice the way they look at you.”
“What are you even talking about?” you asked, your chest tightening. “They don’t look at me any differently than they look at anyone else.”
Felix’s brows shot up in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? They’re constantly looking at you like you hung the moon. Hyunjin can’t go two seconds without finding some excuse to touch you, and Chan? The way he watches you when you’re not looking? It’s... intense.”
You felt heat rush to your face, your heart racing as you tried to process what he was saying. “That’s just how they are. They’re affectionate guys. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Felix tilted his head, giving you a look that was both skeptical and amused. “Affectionate, sure. But this? This is different you cant convince me otherwise. I’m not saying they’re in love with you or anything—” he paused, reconsidering. “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were.”
Your breath caught in your throat, and you had to sit down on the edge of your bed. “Felix, this is insane. They’ve never said anything. Never even hinted at anything.”
Felix sighed and crouched down in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees. “They’re careful, okay? They don’t want to scare you off. But as someone who’s been watching this dynamic for years, I’m telling you—you’re not seeing the whole picture.”
You stared at him, your thoughts spinning. The years of friendship, the countless nights spent together, the laughter, the teasing touches, the moments you’d brushed off as nothing more than camaraderie. Could he be right? Had you really been that oblivious?
Felix straightened up, offering you a small, encouraging smile. “Look, I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. But maybe... don’t dismiss it so quickly. Pay attention. You might be surprised.”
After the guys left, I had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours, Felix’s words looping endlessly in my head. They’re not gay. His voice echoed with conviction, and I felt ridiculous for letting it get to me. But I couldn’t stop replaying every touch, every look, every little thing that now felt heavier with meaning.
A soft knock on my door made me jump.
“Hey,” Chan’s voice came through, quiet but warm. “We’re hanging out in the living room. You coming?”
I hesitated before swinging my legs off the bed. “Yeah, give me a sec.”
When I padded into the living room, both of them looked up, Chan holding a beer, Hyunjin sprawled out on the couch, his sweatpants riding low on his hips. He’d swapped his shirt for a tank top, and the sharp lines of his collarbone and shoulders caught my attention for a second too long.
“Finally decided to join us, huh?” Chan teased, patting the spot next to him on the couch.
I sank down between them, their bodies close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off them.
“Sorry, I wasn’t much help earlier,” I murmured, picking at the hem of my sweater.
Hyunjin waved it off, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Don’t worry about it. But... you okay? You seemed distracted.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, glancing between them. The weight of their gazes felt different tonight—intense and questioning, like they were trying to read me.
Chan leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind me, his fingertips brushing my shoulder as his thumb started absentmindedly tracing small circles against my sweater.
“Sure doesn’t seem like it,” Hyunjin added, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hair, still slightly damp from a shower, fell into his eyes as he tilted his head to look at me.
My cheeks burned. “I guess I’m just tired.”
“Tired, huh?” Chan’s voice was teasing, but his hand dropped lower, grazing my upper arm now. “Or did Felix say something?”
I froze, my pulse quickening. “Why would you think that?”
Hyunjin sat back, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “You tell us. He had you alone for a while, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t say anything,” I rushed out, but my voice betrayed me, shaky and uncertain.
Chan’s hand stilled against my arm, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me. “Liar,” he said softly, but there was no malice in his tone—only curiosity.
Hyunjin leaned closer, his knee brushing against mine. “If something’s on your mind, you can tell us, you know.” His voice was low, smooth, and impossibly distracting.
I could feel the tension thickening in the room, their presence overwhelming. Chan’s touch lingered, Hyunjin’s closeness making it hard to think straight. They weren’t pushing, not exactly, but the way they looked at me—like they knew I was holding something back—made it impossible to escape the weight of Felix’s words.
They’re not gay. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, one I prayed they couldn’t see.
“I think
” I started, my voice quieter than I intended, “I think you two are
 not what I thought you were.”
Hyunjin leaned in a little, and I could feel the weight of his gaze as it bore into me. “What do you mean?” His voice was still low, that calm authority I’d come to recognize from him.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet their eyes. My chest tightened, heart pounding in my ears. “I thought
 I thought you guys were just
 you know, gay.” The words rushed out before I could stop them, leaving me exposed.
The silence between us stretched, thick and heavy, suffocating. Chan’s gaze flickered to Hyunjin for just a moment, his expression unreadable, before it landed back on me. He spoke, his voice low but steady. “Is that really what you think?” His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, like he was searching for something.
“Yeah,” I blurted out, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “I’ve seen the way you two act around each other, and
 I figured I, or any girl, must’ve been the last thing on your mind.”
Hyunjin’s eyes softened, the intensity of his usual gaze replaced by something else. He glanced at Chan again, who responded with a slight twitch of his lips—barely noticeable, but enough to make me feel like I’d just said something monumental.
“That’s what Felix told you, huh?” Hyunjin’s voice was calm, like he was probing for more. “What else did he say?”
I felt my voice tremble as I tried to process what was happening. “He said
 you weren’t gay. And that
 you were both into me”
The room was quiet for a moment, thick with anticipation. Hyunjin’s lips parted, and this time, he did speak. His voice was low, smooth, and tantalizingly close as he leaned in just enough for me to feel his breath ghosting across my skin, I had to let out a sharp exhale.
“Felix was right,” he said, his words slow, almost deliberate. “But I think he missed a few details.”
Chan didn’t move, his hand still resting on my arm. His gaze flickered down to my lips for a brief moment before meeting my eyes again, that made my breath catch.
“You’re not wrong,” he said softly, his voice low and deliberate. “But maybe you’re looking at us the wrong way.”
Before I could respond, Hyunjin’s hand brushed against my thigh, light but deliberate, sending a jolt of heat through me. “You think we don’t notice how you look at us?” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, almost a whisper. “How you press your pretty thighs together every time we get close?”
I couldn’t speak. The silence between us was thick with tension, the heat from their bodies so close to mine almost suffocating, but I couldn’t pull away. Not when their eyes were on me like that, not when their words were making everything inside me ache with anticipation.
Chan smiled, but it was different this time. There was no teasing, no joking. It was raw, and real, and it made my heart race even faster. “You thought we didn’t notice, didn’t you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “But we’ve just been waiting for you to say something.”
 The silence stretched, heavy and electric. My breath caught in my throat as Chan's gaze dropped to my lips, his fingers still brushing against my cheek. I didn’t move, couldn’t move, pinned by the sheer intensity of his eyes.
“Can I?” Chan asked softly, his voice rougher now.
I nodded, barely able to form a coherent thought.
And then his lips were on mine—warm, soft, and so much gentler than I expected. The kiss sent a jolt through my entire body. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, his touch firm but careful, as if testing the boundaries.
Before I could even process the sensation, I felt Hyunjin move. His hand left my thigh, but only so he could tilt my face toward him, his fingers light under my chin. My lips barely parted from Chan’s when Hyunjin leaned in, claiming my mouth with a kiss that was deeper, more urgent, but just as intoxicating.
My heart pounded against my ribcage, every nerve ending on fire. They moved with practiced ease, like this was something they’d thought about—planned, even. Chan’s hand stayed at the nape of my neck while Hyunjin’s fingers traced the curve of my jaw, grounding me in the surreal, overwhelming moment.
When they finally pulled back, I was left breathless, caught between them, my head spinning.
“You have no idea how long we’ve been waiting for this,” Chan murmured, his voice low and rough, his forehead resting lightly against mine.
Hyunjin smirked, his thumb grazing the corner of my lips. “And we’re just getting started.”
The tension in the room was heavy, and then suddenly, it snapped. Hyunjin stood abruptly, his dark eyes flashing with something unreadable. Without a word, he walked out, heading toward his room.
Chan lingered for a moment, his gaze flicking back to me as I sat there, frozen and flustered. His lips twitched into the faintest smirk, the kind that made my stomach flip.
“feel free to join,” he said simply, his voice low and smooth, before turning to follow Hyunjin.
My breath hitched, my heart racing as I sat there for what felt like an eternity, debating whether or not to move. The warmth of their touches, their words, lingered on my skin, pulling me out of my daze.
I stood on shaky legs, hesitating for only a second before following them down the dimly lit hallway. The air felt charged with anticipation, every step amplifying the pounding in my chest.
When I reached Hyunjin’s room, the door was ajar, and the sight that greeted me knocked the air out of my lungs. Hyunjin was already sprawled on his bed, shirtless, the soft light casting shadows over the sharp lines of his chest and arms. His gaze was fixed on me, intense and unwavering, his dark hair falling messily across his forehead.
Chan leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re not going to stand there all night, are you?” he teased, his voice a mixture of warmth and challenge.
I swallowed hard, stepping inside, my movements hesitant but drawn by a force I couldn’t fight.
Hyunjin shifted, patting the space beside him on the bed, his lips curving into a lazy grin. “Come here,” he said, his voice soft but commanding, and I felt my legs move before I could think.
Chan shut the door behind me, the soft click echoing in the quiet room as he joined us.
As I crossed the room, my steps unsteady, Hyunjin’s gaze never left mine. When I reached the bed, his hand stretched out, fingers brushing lightly against mine before he tugged me closer.
“Sit,” he murmured, his voice deep and low, and I obeyed, settling on the edge of the bed. The warmth of his skin seemed to radiate toward me, and the proximity made my heart pound harder.
Chan moved to stand nearby, his presence commanding as always. His shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of toned skin that distracted me for just a moment too long. He noticed, of course, because Chan noticed everything, and the small smirk tugging at his lips told me he wasn’t going to let it slide.
“Hyunjin,” Chan said casually, his tone laced with amusement, “I think you’re making her nervous.”
Hyunjin’s hand trailed deliberately under the hem of my skirt, the warm press of his fingertips against my thigh making my breath hitch. His touch wasn’t rushed; it was languid, teasing.
“Am I?” he murmured, his voice low and muffled as he buried his face into the curve of my neck. The warmth of his breath and the slight scrape of his nose against my skin sent a shiver down my spine. My body betrayed me, leaning into his touch despite the overwhelming heat flooding my chest.
“Hyunjin,” Chan said again, though this time there was a warning in his tone, his amusement still evident. He stepped closer, standing beside the bed where I sat perched on the edge, barely holding myself together.
Hyunjin only chuckled against my neck, his lips grazing my skin briefly as his fingers traced small circles against my inner thigh. “What? She doesn’t seem to mind.” His voice was pure velvet, laced with mischief.
my eyes darted to Chan, his steady gaze locking with mine. There was something magnetic in the way he looked at me, something that made my stomach tighten. Without a word, he reached out, tilting my chin so I was forced to hold his gaze.
“Is that true?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing against my jaw. “You don’t mind?”
“I
” My words faltered, a soft moan slipping out before I could stop it. Hyunjin’s lips had found the sensitive spot just below my ear, his teeth grazing the delicate skin in a way that sent a jolt of heat straight through me. The combination of his warm breath and the light nip made my head tilt involuntarily, giving him more access.
“Hmm,” Hyunjin hummed against my neck, the vibration of his voice making my breath hitch.
Chan’s hand on my face tightened slightly, drawing my attention back to him. His dark eyes searched mine, his thumb brushing over my cheek as if to steady me—or maybe to steady himself. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, and I obeyed, despite the chaos Hyunjin was causing on my neck.
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I shook my head, though the flutter in my chest betrayed the truth.
Chan stepped closer, towering over me as he leaned down, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “use your words princess,” he said softly, his voice dropping an octave.
Uncomfortable? That was the last thing I felt.
“You’re not,” I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible, and Hyunjin’s fingers squeezed my thigh just slightly in response.
Chan chuckled, the sound low and rich as he took a seat beside me. Now I was between them, their warmth encasing me, their attention so focused that it felt like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“You’re shaking,” Hyunjin observed, his tone softer now, a stark contrast to the heat in his eyes.
“I’m not—” I started, but the slight quiver in my voice betrayed me again.
Chan leaned in closer, his hand joining Hyunjin’s on my other thigh. “really?,” he said gently, his touch steadying me even as it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through me.
Hyunjin captured my lips in his with a fervor that made my breath hitch, his hand tightening on my waist as he pulled me flush against him. The kiss was hungry, every movement sending sparks through my body as his fingers trailed along my side.
Before I could process it, Chan was there too, his hand sliding up to cup my jaw as his lips found the curve of my neck. He moved slowly, deliberately, his breath hot against my skin as he kissed a path to my collarbone.
Hyunjin’s hands roamed, one gripping my thigh while the other cradled the back of my neck, angling my head so he could deepen the kiss. Chan’s hand brushed over Hyunjin’s on my leg, their touches overlapping, leaving me trembling under their attention.
“Perfect,” Chan murmured against my neck, his voice low and full of approval as he pulled back just enough to look at me. “You’re perfect.”
Hyunjin’s lips left mine, his dark eyes meeting Chan’s for a brief, heated exchange before he leaned in close; his teeth grazed the shell of my ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.
Chan’s lips were on mine then, softer but no less intense, his hand slipping beneath my sweater to rest on my breasts, his thumb brushing my nipples. Every touch, every kiss, felt like I was being unraveled piece by piece, leaving me entirely at their mercy.
Hyunjin’s hand slid further up my thigh, his fingers toying with the hem of my underwear as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my cheek. “You’re so quiet,” he teased, his voice low and teasing. “Not like you at all.”
Chan chuckled softly against my lips, his hands steady as he lifted me effortlessly, setting me down in the middle of Hyunjin’s bed. The new position had my skirt riding up higher, and I could feel the intensity of their gazes as they both stood looking at me.
Hyunjin knelt in front of me, his hands spreading over my legs as he pushed them apart slightly, his gaze flicking to Chan before meeting mine. “You’re still holding back,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to the inside of my thigh, the gentleness of it making me shiver.
Chan moved behind me, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me back against him. His lips found my neck again, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my skin.
The heat between us was almost unbearable. Hyunjin’s fingers finally pushed aside my underwear and started stroking where I wanted him the most, and I let out a soft gasp as his lips followed.
Chan’s grip on my waist tightened, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Let go. Let us take care of you.”
My hands found their way into Hyunjin’s hair, tugging slightly as his mouth worked magic on me. The sound of his quiet chuckle against my skin sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I felt Chan’s lips curve into a smile against my shoulder; as he pushed hyunjin’s hand off my clit and replaced it with his own.
I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—the way their touches overlapped, how their breaths mingled with mine, left me utterly undone. Hyunjin glanced up, his dark eyes meeting mine, a smirk tugging at his lips as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
“Look at you,” Hyunjin murmured, his voice dripping with heat.
Chan’s free hand slid under my shirt, his fingers picking at my nipples. “She’s sensitive,” Chan murmured, almost to himself, his voice carrying a note of awe that made my heart race even faster.
My head tipped back against Chan’s shoulder, a soft moan escaping my lips as Hyunjin’s tongue and chan’s fingers were making me see heaven.
Chan’s lips pressed against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin before he soothed the spot with his tongue, leaving a burning trail of sensation in his wake.
My body arched, every nerve igniting as waves of pleasure coursed through me, sharp and all-consuming. My nails dug into Hyunjin’s scalp, and his name left my lips in a breathless cry. His grip on my hips tightened, grounding me in the overwhelming sensation as his dark eyes bore into mine, filled with pride and hunger.
“That’s it,” chan murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “cum for us princess.”
 And I did, my breath came in soft gasps, my body still trembling as the rush of pleasure faded into a warm hum.
Chan’s hand slid up to my cheek, turning my face toward him. His eyes were heavy-lidded but soft, his thumb brushing my jaw as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful like this.” He leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, his lips exploring mine as though he had all the time in the world.
Hyunjin pulled back finally, licking his lips like a hungry man. “Don’t think we’re done,” he said with a teasing lilt in his voice. His dark eyes roamed over me, taking in the sight of me flushed and breathless. “this was just the begining.”
“lie down, baby” chan demands, as he moved from behind me.
As I did, the guys started taking off their clothes urgently. And I couldn’t help but stare; they were gorgeous and they knew it.
Chan immediately layed on top of me, trapping me between his arms, his body hovering over me, and I realised just how big he actually was, from the corner of my eye I saw hyunjin get next to me in bed his grin was sharp, his fingers brushing over my calf with deliberate slowness as he settled beside me. “You’re in for it now,” he teased, his voice dripping with heat.
Chan didn’t waste a second. His lips were on mine, his cock pressing down on me, heavy and unyielding, I needed him so bad. His kiss was hungry, claiming, and I couldn’t stop the soft sound that escaped my lips as he deepened it.
Beside me, Hyunjin’s hand roamed my body, his touch electrifying against my skin. He leaned closer, his breath warm against my neck. “You sound so sweet,” he muttered, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear.
Chan pulled back slightly, just enough for me to catch my breath before he entered me without a warning, as I let out a gasp. I felt utterly full of him.
Hyunjin’s mouth followed a slow, teasing path down my neck, his fingers now splayed possessively against my tits. His tongue darted out, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and I couldn’t stop the arch of my back as the tension built between us.
Chan’s thrusts, were precise and passionate. “You drive us insane, you know that?” he growled against my lips before capturing them again.
Hyunjin chuckled low. “oh she knows exactly what she’s doing,” he murmured, his voice like silk, his touch anything but gentle as he made his intentions clear.
They weren’t taking their time anymore—they were claiming me, and I was powerless to resist.
each thrust was sending waves of pleasure through me, making my thoughts scatter. Chan’s breath was hot against my lips as he muttered, “You feel better than I ever imagined.”
Hyunjin’s hands were everywhere, his fingers tracing fire over my skin. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “You like this, don’t you? Both of us making you our own?” His voice was low, teasing, and it only heightened the ache pooling in my core.
I couldn’t respond, my voice caught in my throat as Chan’s pace quickened, his grip on my thighs firm and possessive. Hyunjin smirked at my lack of words, his hand cupping my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “we spent years thinking about fucking you like this, you’re ours now” he murmured before his lips captured mine in a kiss that was just as consuming as Chan’s touch.
The build was maddening, chan’s relentless rhythm pushing was me to the edge. My hands gripped his shoulders tightly, my nails digging into his skin as I felt the tension coil tighter and tighter in my core. “Chan,” I gasped, his name spilling from my lips like a plea, my body trembling beneath him.
“Let go, baby,” he murmured against my ear, his voice rough with need. “I’ve got you.”
The release hit me like a tidal wave, my body arching as pleasure flooded every nerve. My cries filled the room, and Chan followed soon after, a guttural groan escaping him as his own climax overtook him. He pressed his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling, his weight grounding me as I came down from the high.
Before I could fully catch my breath, I felt Hyunjin’s hand slide up my leg, his touch firm yet tantalizing. “Don’t think I’m letting you off that easily,” he said with a smirk, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. He was on me in an instant, his lips finding mine in a searing kiss that reignited the fire in my veins.
“Turn over,” he commanded softly, his voice holding an edge of authority that made me shiver. Chan shifted, moving to the side to make space as Hyunjin positioned himself behind me, his hands gripping my hips. The anticipation was electric, and when he finally pushed into me, it was slow and deliberate, drawing out a moan that left no question about how much I wanted this.
“You’re stunning like this,” Hyunjin rasped, his movements starting to quicken, each one sending fresh sparks through my body. “I’ve been dying to have you like this.”
Chan, still close, leaned down to kiss me, his hand brushing the hair from my face as Hyunjin took control. I’m drooling at this point, and my legs were shaking due to the overstimulation.
the room was filled with my moans and hyunjin’s grunts, who was trying his best to last as long as possible.
“You’re so tight, baby” he groaned, the pressure on his cock making him go completely insane.
Eventually, he gave up, letting himself cum at the same time as me.
"Fuck," he breathed out, pulling out of me. He layed between me and chan.
"You did well, love," hyunjin whispered, making me smile despite how tired I was.
2K notes · View notes
angelsuecult · 2 months ago
Text
the captain | s. crosby
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warnings: sexual content, strong language, MDNI, 18+, NSFW, minors please do no interact, smut.
summary: Sid is given a hard time by his gf about his very stoic interactions with the media. he's not going to let you off so easy.
request: Younger reader and Sidney are already dating, but she can’t help but roll her eyes at his impeccable media training and family friendly personality in the media he does for the league, so she makes fun of him and takes a strong interest in pushing his limits 👀 (aka ends in smut)
word count: 6.3k
a/n: sorry for the extended hiatus guys! i should be back to regular uploads at this point in time and i am currently working through the request list! more to come to keep your eyes peeled guys! thank you for your patience with me! angelsuecult returns!! also to the original requester please don't hesitate to reach out if i completely missed the mark on this and you want me to retry! and requests are still open and update so dont forget to check that out!
--
You’re pretty sure Valentine’s Day games are a scam. Some cruel cosmic joke designed to make girlfriends sit through 60 minutes of freezing cold air and overpriced concessions just to watch their man play his heart out in a sport that could, at any moment, take all his teeth and potentially a limb.  
Not that you minded. Much.  
Sidney had played his ass off tonight—like he had something to prove. Not that he ever really didn’t, because the man didn’t know how to do anything half-assed. Especially not when it came to hockey. Or you, for that matter.  
But of course, it just had to be Valentine’s Day.
You stood now in the tunnel by the player’s exit, phone in hand, watching as Penguins fans in Crosby jerseys flooded toward the concourse, buzzing about the win. Your fingers flew over your screen.  
You: You know I was going to blow you when you got home, but I’m reconsidering because you just had to make it about you tonight.
Three dots appeared almost immediately. Then vanished. Then nothing.  
You rolled your eyes and snorted. “Coward.”  
The man had just been named first fucking star of the game. Of course he had. Two goals, one assist, and a faceoff win percentage so sexy it made you squirm a little. You knew his media obligations were kicking off soon—he was probably just peeling his sweaty gear off now, miserable about the idea of answering questions about “how it felt” and “what went right tonight.”  
Sid: Can’t believe you’re texting me shit like that while I have to sit half dressed with 5 cameras pointed at me.
You bit your lip and grinned.  
You: I can. 
You: You looked good tonight. Real good. Like I’d let you put it in my ass kind of good.  
You: Kidding. Kind of.  
Another pause. He was slow replying, which you’d expected, and it only made you smirk more knowing he was probably trying not to react in front of his teammates or, worse, the media guys. You could practically see his jaw tightening as he tried to suppress a smile, annoyed but secretly delighted.  
You could picture him already—still in his gear, slumped at his stall with his towel around his neck and that half-annoyed, half-resigned expression on his face. Someone probably tossed a mic in his face already. He was probably giving them that polite nod, the “Sure, go ahead” look, all while internally screaming. Sidney, Sidney, Sidney. Too private for his own good.
Sid: Go to my place. I’ll be done soon.
Sid: Stop texting me this shit.
You laughed out loud, drawing a glance from a nearby couple as you stepped out into the cold Pittsburgh night.
You: Oh baby, I haven’t even started.  
You: Maybe I’ll be in your bed.  
You: Maybe I’ll be in your shower.  
You: Maybe I’ll be in that stupid jersey you “don’t like me wearing because you take it seriously.”  
You could practically hear him groaning through the screen.
Sid: You’re an asshole.
Sid: Say the same shit every time anyway.
Sid: “Good team effort, got the bounces, lucky to come out on top.”
Sid: Happy now?
You: You forgot “credit to the guys” and “just trying to play the right way”
You: Gotta hit all the NHL buzzword bingo squares.
You: And don’t forget to smile like a humble Canadian virgin!
No reply. You let that one simmer. He was either suffering or plotting. Maybe both. Probably both.
You pulled your coat tighter around you, breath fogging in front of your face as you made your way to your car. The wind cut through your jeans, but your smile stayed in place. There was something so satisfying about teasing him after a big win—especially when he hated the attention but couldn’t stop being the best guy on the ice. You just couldn’t help yourself.
You got in the car and cranked the heat while pulling up the radio broadcast. They were still recapping the game, gushing over Sid like he wasn’t just a man who’d once tripped over his own shoe in the hallway.
“
and of course, Crosby with a textbook finish. You can see why he’s still one of the most consistent players in the league
”
You rolled your eyes, mimicking the voice in the car. “Oh yes, Sidney. So clean. So polished. Such a gentleman. Definitely didn’t say he was going to fuck me through the headboard if he scored tonight.”
Traffic cleared slowly as you went to his place, a familiar route etched into your brain. His street was quiet when you pulled in—classic Sid, all understated wealth and privacy. It took you forty five minutes to get from the arena to his house, another five to park and kick off your shoes inside the door.  It smelled like him—like clean laundry, cedarwood, and that subtle vanilla scent of his shampoo you’d teased him for using but secretly loved.
You wandered through his halls, turning on a few lights, getting cozy. It always felt familiar here, even though it was very clearly his space—clean, functional. Like a guy who didn’t like clutter but had more money than he knew what to do with.
You padded into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. Full of ingredients. Not a single thing you could just grab and go.
“Romantic,” you muttered under your breath, pulling out a container of strawberries instead and wandering toward the couch.
The rest of the house was dark except for the hallway light, left on for you, and your socked feet were silent on the hardwood as you climbed the stairs to his bedroom. The hallway was chilly as you padded toward the bedroom in your socks, carrying the half-eaten strawberries and your phone tucked beneath your arm. Sid’s place had that always-too-clean look to it. Like he tried to live in it, but barely spent enough time home for it to actually look lived in. You made a note to mess it up later. Nothing too dramatic—just a sweatshirt on the floor, maybe a bra hanging off the couch cushion, leave a cup on the counter. Domestic terrorism.
You tossed your phone on the nightstand and peeled off your jacket, fingers brushing over the remote on the dresser.  
TV on.  
Pants off.  
You were in his bed now, wearing his shirt—an old Penguins one that smelled like his laundry detergent and game day nerves—and absolutely nothing underneath.  
Just as God intended.  
The analysts were falling over themselves about his performance.
“
you know what you’re getting with Sid. Every single night. Discipline. Poise. He’s just got it.” You snorted.
“Yeah, discipline until he’s got me pinned under him telling me I’m not going anywhere until I apologize for teasing him about his ‘media voice.’”
Another buzz from your phone.  
Sid: About to start media. They’re dragging it out tonight.  
Sid: You’re lucky I like you.  
Sid: And that I want to fuck you stupid.  
You choked on your laugh, clutching your phone tighter as you wiped strawberry juice from your fingers onto his shirt. You stretched dramatically across the bed and typed.  
You: Wow. Romantic.  
You: Just like I dreamed when I was 10.  
You: “One day I’ll date a hockey player who talks to me like a caveman on Valentine’s Day.”
Sid: Don’t act like you don’t like it. You’re already naked, aren’t you?
You: You’re not even here yet and you already think you know everything.  
Sid: I do know everything. And I know you’re wearing my shirt. And that’s it.  
Sid: Because you’re predictable. And a little slutty.
You covered your face with one hand and laughed out loud into the empty room. Your heart fluttered like a fucking schoolgirl even as you cursed him out in your mind.  
There was something wildly unfair about the duality of Sidney Crosby. The version the world knew—stoic, polite, humble to the point of parody. And then the real version. The one who texted you filthy things from the dressing room and called you a brat with that low rasp in his voice that promised you wouldn’t be walking straight the next day.
He was such a damn con artist.
You: You’re the one who’s gonna cry when I leave you with blue balls tonight.  
You: “Sorry Sid, I got tired waiting for you.”  
You: “Sorry Sid, I used all my energy climbing your stairs.”  
You: “Sorry Sid, I found your toothbrush and that did it for me.”
Sid: You’re such an asshole.
Sid: You’re lucky I’ve been horny for you since warmups. 
Sid: You knew what you were doing, sitting that close.
You had known.  
You always knew.  
And he always played better when he knew you were there watching.  
You yawned, stretched your legs beneath his sheets, and flopped dramatically on the bed, taking up all the space just to be a brat. You could already hear it: his sigh of fake annoyance when he got home, the shake of his head, the way he’d peel your shirt up with one hand and drag your body down with the other.  
You rolled to your stomach, phone buzzing again beside you.  
Sid: I’ll be home soon. You better be exactly where I think you are.
Sid: And if you’re not, you’re done. Actually done. I’ll find a Valentine who respects me.
You: You?  
You: Wanting respect?  
You: I’m sorry. I thought this was Sidney “I’ll fuck you on the bench if no one’s around” Crosby.
No reply. Which told you all you needed to know.  
He was already doing media.  
Probably giving his same bland ass answers.  
Probably planning what he was going to do the second he walked through that door.  
You looked around, debated getting up to light a candle or make the bed look a little less like a war zone. Then shrugged.  
Let him deal with the chaos he caused.  
You flipped onto your back and sighed happily, smirking at the ceiling.  
The remote was still in your hand when the screen switched from the postgame panel to the locker room feed. You didn’t even bother turning up the volume—didn’t need to. You could already hear it in your head.  
Sidney Crosby, media-trained robot, coming to life in hi-def.
You sighed and settled deeper into his bed, still cocooned in his shirt, bare legs tangled in his sheets. The duvet smelled like him. So did the pillow you were shamelessly half-lying on, half-straddling. Your phone sat close, a loaded weapon in the war of flirtation, but for now, you watched.  
There he was, perched in his stall, sweat-slick hair hidden under a black team hat, compression long sleeve clinging to his chest and arms like it was painted on. No jersey. No pads. Just muscle, all angles and sharp focus, like the game hadn’t even left his bloodstream yet. Cue Captain Canada.
The reporter asked about the team’s energy tonight, and you muttered out loud to no one, “We played a full sixty, stuck to our game, did the little things right—blah, blah, blah.”  
And then, right on cue:  
“Yeah, I thought we played a full sixty tonight
 stuck to our game, did the little things right
”  
You cackled.
“Fucking called it.”  
He looked half dead behind the eyes, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, nodding as another reporter threw a question at him. You didn't even bother listening this time. You just watched his face. That twitch of his mouth when he was trying not to say what he really wanted to say. That calm, serious voice he used like a shield. That stupid, safe, polished version of himself that made you want to throw something at the screen.  
Because you knew the real Sid.  
The one who talked absolute filth into your ear with that same mouth.  
The one who made fun of his teammates the second the cameras were off.  
The one who said “fuck” more than he said “I.”  
And then—then—it happened.  
The reporter asked:  
“It’s Valentine’s Day, Sid. You played a great game. Got any plans tonight?”  
You sat up a little. That one actually surprised you. When did the reporters get so bold?
He gave them that laugh—that stupid, breathy chuckle he only used when he didn’t want to give too much away. Then he smiled, eyes low, lips pressed together like he was fighting off the real answer.  
“No,” he said. “Just recover. Get ready for the next one.”  
That was it. That was all.  
You stared at the TV, jaw slightly open.  
“Recover?” you muttered. “That’s your answer? No wink? No cute little nod? Not even a fucking smirk? You lying sack of shit, Sidney Patrick.”  You looked absolutely nuts talking to yourself.
You picked up your phone and unleashed.  
You: “Just recover,” he says.  
You: Wow. My pussy just dried up.  
You: Say hello to celibacy apparently.  
Still no reply. You fired off another.  
You: You are such a fucking fraud.  
You: There is literally a naked woman in your bed. Right now. At your house.  
You: On Valentine’s Day.  
You: But nooo, he’s gonna “recover.”  
You: Go ahead, Sid. Recover. I’ll just be here. Thinking about life. My choices. The fact I could’ve fucked a dentist. Or literally anyone else but hey.
You bit your lip to hide a smile, watching him wrap the interview up, nodding politely, face locked in full Captain Mode. You could practically feel the tension buzzing under his skin. The itch to get the hell out of there and back to you.  
One more for good measure:  
You: When they say “Crosby keeps his private life quiet,”  
You: They don’t know it’s because he talks so much shit in bed the FCC would fine him.
That did it.
Your phone lit up almost the second he stood from his stall.  
Sid: You need to be stopped.
Sid: You need help.
Sid: I’m not even out of the building yet and I’m hard.
You flopped backward against his pillows, laughing like a lunatic.  
You: I’m sorry did you forget you have a girlfriend? Did your nut brain erase me from memory just because you got first star??
You: Not even a cute little “gonna go home to the girl who’s been letting me rearrange her insides all season”???
You: Also don’t think I didn’t notice your compression shirt. You know exactly what you’re doing you manipulative little slut.
Sid: Jesus Christ
Sid: You knew what you signed up for.
You: I signed up for the hot hockey sex. The rest was a scam.
You: Don’t worry, I’ll be asleep by the time you get home.  
You: No recovering necessary. You’re off the hook.
Sid: You’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow if you keep this up.  
Sid: You want recovery? I’ll give you something to recover from.
You swallowed.  
Slowly.  
Okay.  
So maybe you did like poking the bear.  
And maybe the bear knew exactly how to fuck you into next week.  
You tucked your phone under your pillow and let out a slow breath, heart thudding, a little thrill sparking low in your belly.  
Valentine’s Day.  
Just another game on the calendar.  
Until Sid got home.
And the worst part was, you didn’t even realize you’d fallen asleep. One second you were tucked under his sheets, limbs comfortably sprawled, phone still clutched in one hand and TV murmuring softly in the background
 and the next, you were blinking against the warm glow of the bedside lamp and squinting up at a very large, very amused, very smug silhouette looming over you.
“Unbelievable,” Sidney muttered, shaking his head as he stood beside the bed. His coat was halfway off, his cheeks still pink from the cold outside, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and that fucking backwards hat still on his head. “All that mouth, and look at you now. Out cold.”
You groaned before you could speak, voice thick with sleep and low like you’d swallowed a blanket. “'M not.”
“You literally just snored,” he said, dropping his bag to the floor with a thud and crouching beside the bed. “Like a full-on little cartoon snore. Tiny inhale, wheeze on the exhale. Real cute.”
“I did not snore,” you mumbled into the pillow. But your voice was gravelly, throat dry, and goddammit—your limbs were heavy with sleep, and he smelled so good, and everything was so warm.
“Look at you,” he murmured, brushing a few strands of hair off your cheek. “Talked all that shit and knocked yourself out.”  
You shifted slightly, nose scrunching, a quiet little groan escaping your throat.
“Mmph.”  
He grinned. Leaned in close to your ear.  
“Babe.”  
Nothing.  
“Babe.” He kissed your cheek. “Hey. Hey. Wake up.”  
You grunted, rolling slightly. “M’tired
”  
You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand, barely lifting your head from the pillow.
“
What time is it?”
“Late. Or early. Depends who you ask.” He pressed a kiss to your hair. “You passed out. Didn’t even make it to Valentine’s Day sex.”
You groaned again, voice muffled. “I didn’t mean to. Your bed is criminally warm. I got cozy. My body betrayed me.”
“You talked a lot of shit.”
“Yeah well, I thought you were gonna be faster.”
He laughed low in his chest, slipping his hand beneath the covers to grab your hip and give it a squeeze. He climbed onto the bed with all the smug grace of a man who had absolutely earned this moment of superiority. He leaned down, one knee pressing into the bed right between your legs, and shoved at the covers just enough to catch a glimpse of your legs tangled beneath his sheets.
“You look real cozy for someone who was talking an awful lot of shit about how boring I am,” he said, tone low and teasing.
You squinted at him, your voice a gravelly whisper.
“You are boring. You literally said, ‘recover.’ Who says that on Valentine’s Day? Recover from what, Sidney? Being 37?”
He let out a sharp laugh and pushed your hair back from your face, warm fingers brushing your cheek.
“You’re a little shit,” he murmured.
“And you’re a liar.” You poked a finger into his chest. “You lied to the media. There was an actual naked girl waiting for you in your bed and you gave them the ‘I’m gonna rest up’ speech like a fucking priest.”
Sid rolled his eyes.
“You know I can’t give them anything,” he said. “They’ve been trained like bloodhounds. If I so much as hint at having plans, I’ll have a fucking headline on every sports page tomorrow.”
“God forbid people find out you’re not a virgin,” you deadpanned.
“Watch it,” he warned playfully. “I am a role model.”
You burst out laughing, head tipping back into the pillow.
“Oh my god, you are so full of shit. You talk like you’re running for office, but then you come home and say things like, ‘c’mere, baby, I’ve been thinking about fucking you against the kitchen counter since warmups.’”
He grinned. “Still true, by the way.”
You hummed and looped your arms around his neck lazily.
“You missed your shot then, Captain Celibate. Shouldn’t have let me fall asleep.”
Sid smirked and kissed the corner of your mouth.
“Didn’t realize the threat of dick was the only thing keeping you awake.”
“You should’ve. It’s your strongest feature.”
He laughed again, breath warm against your cheek, before ducking his head to kiss you properly—slow and deep and good, like he had all the time in the world. You melted into it, arms tightening around his neck, legs shifting beneath the covers until you hooked one behind his bent knee, dragging him closer.
Then he nuzzled into your neck again and added, low and dirty:  
“You wanna go back to sleep, or you want me to give you something real to recover from?”  
You groaned dramatically. “You are such a whore, oh my god.”  
“And yet, here you are. In my bed. Wearing my shirt. Wet for me in your sleep, probably.”  
“Shut up—”  
“You were,” he said smugly, dragging his hand up your thigh. “I checked. You twitched.”  
You covered your face with both hands. “You’re disgusting.”  
“You’re worse,” he said, kissing down your throat. “And when you wake up tomorrow sore as hell, I want you to remember who was ready when the moment came, and who—” he nipped your collarbone— “took a nap.”  
“Sidney.”  
“Y/n.”  
You sighed, dropped your hands, and stared up at him.  
“You gonna fuck me or give another locker room interview?”  
He grinned. And with that, he kissed you again, deep and slow and fucking smug. You could feel the smile on his mouth, even as he pressed you back into the mattress like you were the only thing worth coming home to.  
"Holy shit," you said, breathless as he tugged your shirt up over your hips, revealing those barely there red panties you wore when you knew he’d be seeing them. Lacy. Dark. A tiny bow on the waistband.
Sid looked smug. “I’m so obsessed with you, it’s disgusting.”
“You're disgusting,” you corrected, but you were already arching up, letting him pull the shirt over your head. 
He laughed low, all pleased with himself. "You love it."
His hand slipped a little higher, fingertips grazing the side of your hip where your underwear were just barely clinging to your curves.
You sucked in a breath you tried to pretend was casual. "Sid," you warned.
"What?" he drawled, blinking down at you like he hadn’t just started setting your entire nervous system on fucking fire. You lifted your head, giving him a look. "You’re fucking pushing it."
Sid grinned, so goddamn starved it made your toes curl. "You need me to spell it out, Y/N Y/LN?" he teased, voice dropping into that dangerous gravel. "Need me to tell you how bad I wanna fuck you?"
You groaned, covering your face with both hands like that could somehow save you. "Jesus Christ, Sidney."
He pulled your hands away, kissing your knuckles like a fucking gentleman, even while his other hand kept creeping higher up your thigh.
"Could just be gentle," he murmured, kissing the inside of your wrist now, right over your pulse. "Real slow, babe. Let you sit on my cock nice and easy. You barely gotta do anything. I'll do all the fuckin' work."
You whimpered, and he fucking heard it.
He grinned harder, absolutely predatory now, shifting to hover over you more fully, careful not to press too much weight onto you.
"Bet you miss it," he murmured against your ear, lips brushing your skin. You literally had sex in his bed this morning but you hated that he was right, you did miss it.
"Sid," you gasped, arching your back automatically, and fuck, he hadn't even touched you properly yet.
He chuckled low and mean, dragging his mouth along your throat, nipping lightly. "Tell me, baby," he rasped. "Tell me how bad you want it."
You shoved at his chest weakly, more for show than anything else. "I hate you," you breathed. "I fucking hate you."
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, grinning into your hair. "You love this dick though."
You burst out laughing, half-horrified and half-scorched alive. "You are so fucking nasty," you managed between giggles, pinching his arm lightly.
He caught your hand easily, pressing it down above your head, pinning you with almost no effort. "And you're so fuckin' wet for me right now, I can feel it through your goddamn panties," he grunted, pressing his hips into yours just enough to make you feel the thick, heavy line of him behind his dress pants.
You whimpered again, biting your lip. "Sid," you whispered desperately.
He kissed the corner of your mouth. "Say it," he ordered softly. "Say you want me."
You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing hard.
It was so unfair, how good he was at this. How easily he turned you into this trembling, needy thing even when you thought you had the upper hand for most of the day
But he looked at you like you were the best part of his night. Like he couldn’t wait to ruin you in the best goddamn way.
You cracked your eyes open, meeting his gaze. "I want you," you whispered. "You asshole."
Sid’s grin turned downright feral.
"Yeah?" he rasped, nuzzling into your jaw, his hand finally — finally — sliding under your panties, the rough pads of his fingers skimming where you were already slick and throbbing for him. "Good," he murmured. "‘Cause you're not gettin' away from me, princess. Not tonight."
You gasped as his fingers slipped deeper, teasing, and you clawed at his shoulders, your nails digging into the solid muscle there.
"Sid," you panted. "Bed’s gonna break if you fuck me the way you're lookin' at me right now."
He laughed low, dirty, and thrilled. "Then we'll buy a new one," he said, voice rough as he sank two fingers into you slowly and deep. "Hell, babe, we'll break every goddamn bed from here to fuckin' Canada if it means I get to feel you come around me again."
You moaned helplessly, arching into him.
And when he bent down, kissed you— really kissed you, slow and filthy and possessive — it felt like a promise burned into your skin.
Sid could’ve fucked you stupid in under thirty seconds if he wanted. The way you were already whimpering under him, writhing in his hands, he knew it wouldn’t take much.
But tonight — tonight he wanted to be slow. He wanted to wreck you proper. Melt every bone in your goddamn body.
He slipped his fingers out of you with a slow, slick sound that made you whimper again. He fucking loved that sound. Loved everything about you like this — messy and needy and all his.
"You gotta relax, baby," Sid murmured, dropping kisses along the flushed line of your throat, working his way lower. "Can't be tense on me. Gotta stay nice and easy for me."
Sid pulled back from your body just enough to catch you breathless— just enough to see you, all flushed and desperate, lips swollen, hair a wild halo against the pillows. His heart punched hard against his ribs.
"Fuckin' hell, Y/N," he muttered, staring at you like he couldn’t decide whether to devour you whole or build a shrine at your feet. "Look at you."
You whimpered and tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging gently, begging him wordlessly to keep going.
Sid huffed a soft, broken laugh, dragging your panties slowly — so slowly — down your thighs, baring you completely to him. He didn’t just toss them. No. He pocketed them. Smirked while he was doing it. Like the absolute sex demon he was.
And he was hard. So hard it was actually starting to hurt. He was damn near grinding in his pants for some kind of friction.
He pressed a kiss right between your breasts, trailing down your belly. You shivered so hard it made the mattress creak.
Sid grinned against your skin. "You already taste so fuckin' sweet," he muttered, nosing at your core, not even touching you properly yet, just letting the heat of his breath drive you crazy. "Bet you could get me drunk off your pussy right now, baby. All thick and fuckin' sweet just for me."
"Oh my god, Sidney," You gasped, tossing your head back. "You're fucking filthy."
"Yeah, well," he said, voice low and smug. "You like it, baby. You like havin' me mouth off about how sweet your pussy is when you’re desperate."
You made a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob, and Sid finally gave you what you needed — flattening his tongue and dragging it up through your folds, slow and deep.
Your entire body jerked.
"Jesus fuck, Sid," you gasped, arching off the bed, thighs trembling.
He groaned into you, his hands sliding under your ass to tilt you up even closer to his mouth. "You’re fuckin’ drippin', babe," he muttered, voice vibrating against your soaked skin. "Beggin' for it. Haven’t even touched my cock yet and you’re already so fuckin' close, huh?"
"Fuck you," you moaned, trying to close your thighs around his head — he loved when you did that, so desperate you wanted to trap him there.
Sid laughed low, all smug satisfaction, and stiffened his tongue to shove into your leaky entrance, bobbing in and out like he was starving. Every little whimper, every twitch of your hips, just made him harder, his cock aching in his dress pants.
He shifted one hand, dragging two fingers back inside you, pumping slow, gentle strokes in and out while he circled your clit with his tongue, slow and deliberate. His fingers moved slow between your legs, curling deep, working that perfect rhythm only he knew. Your thighs quivered, trying to clamp shut, but he squared his shoulder and pushed them open lazily. "None a' that," he said, smirking. "You’re taking it, baby. Not hidin’ from me now. Not after all that shit you talked on my phone."
You clawed at the dress shirt he was still wearing, trying to yank him back up. "You’re such a fucking dick," you gasped. "Coulda just got me some flowers and left me the fuck alone—"
Sid grinned, slow and greedy, dragging the how tongue down your slick folds, circling your clit just hard enough to make your hips jerk. "And miss this?" he murmured. "Babe, you’re better than Christmas. Better than a fuckin’ playoff win."
He pushed your shirt up higher until your breasts were exposed, beautiful and tender. He palmed one carefully, thumb brushing across your hardening nipple, and you gasped, your legs falling further open for him.
"Sensitive, huh, baby?" he whispered, watching you squirm. "Bet you could come just from my mouth on you right now, no hands, nothing."
"You’re fucking killing me," you moaned, lifting your hips helplessly, trying to get more friction.
He laughed again — slow, dangerous — and dipped his head to take your clit back into his mouth, sucking softly, then harder, pulling a desperate, broken sound from your throat.
You fisted his hair, hips rocking mindlessly against his face, your whole body tightening.
"Sid, fuck," you gasped, "I can't—I'm gonna—"
He lifted his head, grinning at your flushed, wrecked face. "You gonna come for me already, baby? Just from my fuckin' fingers?" he teased, pumping them harder now, twisting his wrist so his palm rubbed against your clit perfectly. "Fuck, that's hot. Goddamn, you're perfect. So fuckin' good for me,Y/N."
"Jesus–Fuck–Sidney." you cried out, arching hard off the bed as you came, gripping his wrist as if to tell him not to stop, body shuddering, your pussy clenched down so hard around his fingers it almost hurt, soaking his hand and mouth with a gush that made Sid groan into you.
He kept working you through it, slow and patient, until you were trembling, whimpering, utterly wrecked.
He kissed you again, deep and slow, until you went boneless against the sheets, gasping for air.
He pulled his fingers out finally, dragging them slow between your thighs, teasing your slit just to hear you whimper again. Then he sucked his fingers into his mouth, groaning low like you were the best fucking thing he'd ever tasted.
You slapped his chest weakly. "You're disgusting," you muttered, still breathless, half-dazed.
Sid grinned and grabbed your hand, pressing it to the bulge straining against the front of his now wrinkled pants. "Yeah? Feel how bad you got me, baby?" he rasped. "’M about two seconds away from blowin' my load like a fuckin' teenager over here."
You laughed, exhausted and glowing and a little feral around the edges. "Good," you whispered, hooking your legs around his waist. "Now fucking do something about it, Crosby."
He stripped his shirt off one-handed, tossing it somewhere behind him, before finally, finally undoing his jeans.
His cock sprang free, hard and leaking, and you made a broken, desperate sound that made Sid’s heart squeeze. Your mouth actually watered.
“Baby
 fuck,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he guided your hands above your head, he tapped his tip against your slick folds, nudging your clit teasing the both of you, you instinctively moved forward, preparing for more stimulation, “You ready for me, huh?”
You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as you felt the warmth of the head pressing against your entrance, so close yet so far. You could barely form words, the need building inside you too overwhelming, and all you could do was let out a shaky breath, your hips shifting slightly against him. “Mhmmm,” you murmured, your voice trembling with anticipation. “need you.”
With a groan, Sidney shifted above you, his hands holding your hips as he slowly pushed his length into you, slowly, inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming—your heat, your tightness, the way you stretched around him as he filled you. He couldn’t hold back the curse that slipped from his lips as he bottomed out inside you, his breath ragged as he held you close.
"Fuck, baby," he groaned into your neck, "tightest fuckin' thing, swear to god...made for me."
Sid stayed still for a moment, just breathing, letting you adjust, feeling your soft, fluttering muscles pulsing around him.
You let out a soft moan, your head falling back further into the pillow as you adjusted to the feeling of him inside you. The stretch was delicious, filling you completely, and the slow, steady throb of him buried deep inside made your pulse race. You could feel every inch of him, the way he fit perfectly against that gummy spot inside you, and it made you dizzy with need.
It took every ounce of control he had not to just start pounding into you like a goddamn animal.
Instead, he pulled out slow, almost all the way, and slid back in with one long, careful thrust that made you whimper and dig your heels into the mattress.
"That’s it," he murmured against your temple. "Just like that, princess. Let me take care of you."
He fucked you slowly—long, hard, deep strokes,  savoring every twitch and gasp and curse. You arched under him, hips pushing up, body moving with his like you’d been built just for this.
The sound of his hips hitting the back of your thighs filled the room. He kept a first grip on your hips as he continued a consistent pace. At some point your brain just melted. Your eyes could no longer focus on him above you and your mouth hung open, moans no longer falling from your lips. The only thing you could do was tighten around him.
Sid could feel you getting close. He dropped down, his chest pressing right up to yours stopping his thrusts. But in your cockdrunk you started to grind upwards when Sidney wouldn’t move. Caught between needing the break but also wanting him to continue.He wanted this to last though. 
And just like that, he was sitting back, pulling you up with him. Chest to chest, you were now on top. His lips catching yours in something deeper now—hotter, messier. You gasped as he lifted you slightly, maneuvering with muscle memory and intention, letting you sink down completely onto his cock.
“I got you,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back, the other moving down to stroke your thigh. “Just move how you want. I’ll follow your lead.”
You couldn’t answer — too full, too overwhelmed, too in love — so you just sat on your knees and began rocking your hips in desperation. He knew you were getting impatient. It was in the way your hips started moving impatiently against his aching cock. He knew you needed to come and that you were close. It was in the way you took everything he gave you, every rough upward thrust, every whispered praise.
You leaned forward, one hand braced on his broad shoulder, the other tangled in his hair as you rode him slowly — hips rolling in little waves, the angle hitting all the right places, making your whole body quake.
“‘M close Sid,” you whispered, gasping when his thumb found your swollen clit again.
“Good,” he said hoarsely, “You need it. Look at you. All needy and swollen. You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You know that?”
“Don’t stop ohmygodohgodfuck-” you whined, burying your face in his neck.
Sidney couldn’t stop even if he tried to. You’re too damn addicting.
He starts to thrust upward, matching the pace in which you're riding him. He desperate to watch you fall apart on top of him. He pushes two fingers into your mouth, you instinctively start sucking on them as if they’re his cock.
“There she is,” he whispers, rough and low.
You clamp down around his cock, coming hard and fast. It rolled through you in heavy, pulsing waves–warm and all consuming–pulling a wrecked cry from your lips.
“Fucking–Jesus–I’m–Goddammit Sid–”
Sidney came with a deep, desperate groan, burning his face in your neck as his cock twitched inside of your pussy. He emptied himself inside, thrusting up lazily a few times, fucking his come deep inside of you, even as you writhe above him in overstimulation. He watches as his cock drags in and out of you, a circle of your cream circling the base as his come leaks down his length and down to his balls. 
Sid pressed you back onto the mattress, unintentionally thrusting his softened cock into you. You whine softly, already spent and tired and ready for bed. He presses gentle kisses to the side of your face.
“You okay?”
“Mm.” You mumble softly, already drifting off.
You had all the time in the world now. Sid had made damn sure of that.
--
810 notes · View notes
teaboot · 1 month ago
Note
mr boot, can we see more things you did not get suspended for?
(i promise this is only partially because i want to see more of doodleboot with his mouth open)
I may have to draw these later BUT I can write a list now!
1. In grade 3 we had a program where older students would supervise younger students while teachers ate lunch. Younger students could talk and walk around the classroom as long as they weren’t disruptive. One day we had an older student yelling at all of us to “Sit down and Shut Up”, and that made me so mad I told him, “You’re standing and yelling at us to sit and be quiet, you’re not following your own rules”. This turned into an argument where he threatened to send me to the principal’s office, and I said that if he did I’d tell them why. I did end up getting reported for “not listening to the student monitor” and a phone home was made but from what I recall I was never given a lecture and didn’t get in trouble. That kid was also never supervisor again.
2. On my first day of elementary school an older kid took a dime I found and threw it to the back of the school bus. He turned out to be a bully every time I rode the bus after that and eventually started spitting at me from across the aisle. The bus driver never did anything about it so one day I spat at him back, and we both got temporarily suspended from the bus- me for about a day, him for a week, except I guess someone knew it was an ongoing issue that he was causing so he also got suspended from school for a week. I didn’t, though.
3. Again in elementary school I got into a disagreement with a kid- I don’t remember what about- and he punched me in the stomach. I kicked him back and we both got sent to the school’s guidance counsellor, who I remember nothing about except he had grey hair and glasses and his office smelled like tuna salad. Other kid said he hadn’t done anything and I’d just kicked him for no reason. I told the whole story and said I knew kicking him was wrong but I’d been angry that he’d punched me over a disagreement. There was a call home but I was not suspended.
4. A kid in chess club told me that he was going to win our round, not because he was more experienced and I was only learning, but because boy’s brains are naturally better at strategy than girls are. This was my first introduction to sexism and I thought it was so stupid that I threw all my pawns full-force at his head. These were some hefty solid plastic pieces, too. I was then kicked out of the library, I think. I later discussed this with another guy friend and we agreed that boys WERE stronger than girls, but that was only because girls were smarter than boys and it had to balance out somehow. (We were about six at the time, for context.)
5. About half way through my first day of grade 8 social studies I realized the assignments, reading, and syllabus were completely identical to those from grade 7 social studies. When I pointed this out to the teacher, he said we could discuss it after class. He would not answer when I asked why it was exactly the same, and when I asked if half of us present were expected to do all the same work from the grade before a second time he said “Yes, you can do it differently if you want but you still have to do it” and said to take it as an opportunity to be more artistic if we wanted. I said this was ridiculous and asked if we would be learning ANYTHING new or just repeating the grade. He then went on a long rant about how he was in the middle of a divorce and lost his second job and “didn’t appreciate me undermining his authority in front of the other students”. My mom then got a phone call about my disruptive behaviour. When I told her my side of the story, she called back and asked to talk to the teacher to see what was going on and discuss my concerns about the syllables, to which the person receiving the call told her, “Mr. So-and-so has a degree in psychology and has teenage daughters, he knows how to handle difficult personalities”. Mom and I then agreed that Mr. Guy was a fragile, condescending idiot with poor compartmentalization skills and that I should just take the class as-is for an easy A. Which I did.
6. Choir was an optional extracurricular except for my class which for some reason were required to participate for reasons I am still unclear on. I hated choir and our songs were all stupid froofy saccharine bullshit about joy and rainbows and friendship and crap. I decided I was going to attend and would stand and do whatever I was told and mouth along if I had to but I wasn’t going to sing. The choir director was an asshole I had other classes with and already knew I didn’t want to be around, but in her defense she had a choir to direct and I wasn’t contributing. She’d frequently tell me to “sing louder” so she could hear me and then nod in satisfaction when I stood slightly straighter and opened my mouth wider while humming a little. I was eventually told if I wasn’t going to put the effort in then I would be asked to leave, to which I pointed out that I would GLADLY get out of her hair but half the students present were from my class and had been specifically ordered to participate, and had been told it was mandatory. This was then proven with a show of hands. I don’t know why this happened or why she didn’t know but she didn’t really get after me after that.
7. In grade four our gym class had a unit on “hip-hop dance” which consisted of a boom box playing what sounded like kidz bop covers of 80’s-90’s rap while a 40 year old white woman in a high ponytail and electric purple tights bounced around and showed us how to “pop and lock” and “do the electric slide” and “moonwalk”. I was immediately struck by an overwhelming sense of indignity that I could only articulate at the time as, “this is undignified”. I was a total goody two-shoes at the time and WANTED to be good and participate but was so weirdly disgusted and mortified at what was happening around me that after a few half-hearted movements I totally locked up in a straight-backed stand with a clenched jaw. All I felt I could do was wait for it to be over. Today I think I would describe the exact feeling as “paralytic cringe”. It was incredible. From what I recall I would not move or say anything to anyone and when being told to dance along I would just firmly say “no”. I remember having to be physically picked up and carried to the principal’s office where they called my mom but I have no idea what the aftermath was, only that being suspended was a big deal and that didn’t happen.
8. I really REALLY liked my grade 4 teacher and would regularly give her a little plasticine snail to sit on her desk. Only one, remade of the same clay over and over. The next morning every other day or so I would find that someone had smashed it flat. One day I unfolded a paper clip so that there was a spike pointed up and hid it inside the snail. I wish I could tell you what happened but I don’t know. The snail disappeared and I couldn’t re-make it anymore.
There are so many more now that I’m thinking about it but damn I got in trouble more than I thought I did huh
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thanosspills · 5 months ago
Text
LIVING WITH "TEAM THANOS"
after the third game, the X's win and you reunite with the friends you made in the games.
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Now that the games have ended, all of the players are spread out in the dorms waiting to depart. You sit with your new-found friend group on the stairs as you guys have a group discussion about your futures.
Now bonded with no where else to go, everyone agrees to put their money together and rent out a comfortable place to live.
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Characters: Se-mi/player 380, Thanos/player 230, Nam-gyu/player 124, Min-su/player 125, Gyeong-su/player 256
This is what it's like to live with each of them! Slight headcannons
Pretty light hearted and silly, nothing too serious.
Fem!reader x Choi Su-bong (kinda)
Reader is dating Thanos because I couldn't resist sorry <3
Warnings: Slightly suggestive/NSFW things mentioned, drug usage, drinking
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YOU + THANOS
You and Thanos got really close in the games and have been inseparable since. The two of you share the larger bedroom and are PDA all over the house. Making out in the kitchen, on the couch when everyones hanging out, he'll slap/grope your ass at random, grab your hips when you're facing away from him, etc etc.
Everytime the PDA starts, Nam-gyu just rolls his eyes and tries to ignore it. During movie night when you and Thanos take your attention away from what you're watching to suck face, Se-mi throws a pillow at you two and scoffs, "Get a room nymphos." Min-su will awkwardly look the other way, and Gyeong-su is just always oblivious, continuing to laugh at the movie, never noticing in general.
ALSOO during movie night Thanos always hogs the communal couch blanket. Even from you.
Don't get me started on how loud the two of you are in bed. Thanos gives no fucks, he'll be as vocal and rough as he wants and he'll bring it out of you. Since Thanos loves to be chatty during sex, you'll occasionally get Nam-gyu yelling at you two to "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" from downstairs. Of course, you and Thanos always just laugh it off and keep going. The next morning you guys get ganged up on and teased by the other four, Gyeong-su mocking Thanos's dirty talk,
"You guys need to be quiet, I'm tired of hearing Thanos moan 'senÔrita' at 2 in the morning."
Thanos uses your guys's room as the house's studio, inviting the others in to rap/produce with him. Min-su and Se-mi never participate, they just sit on the bed, snack with you, and watch.
You always have to clean up after Thanos. He'll kick his shoes off in the most random places, leave clothes on the floor, food at his desk, etc.
Thanos will freestyle about whatever everyones doing in the present moment, like at game night, Nam-su is drawing two So he ain't got no Uno I bet that dude regrets picking yellow I'm rooting for my lil boy Min-su Wild card his ass, bro!
Thanos always announces his presence as soon as he gets home. He'll shout, "GUYSSSSS!" right when he walks in the door.
Thanos doesn't consider boundaries at all. He'll randomly barge into everyones room without knocking and ask if they wanna go somewhere with him even if it's late as fuck.
You two are probably the most difficult to deal with in terms of bringing pure chaos to the household, but you guys also bring the most fun.
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MIN-SU
Min-su is usually the first person awake, but when he sleeps in he gets aggressively woken up by the boys. He's also the little rag-doll of the group, always getting playfully pushed around. Se-mi will yell at the boys to fuck off but they mean well, it's just the special treatment Min-su gets.
He's seen as the little brother by everyone but he's honestly the most put-together.
He's tried to bring in stray cats multiple times, Nam-gyu immediately says hell no, something him and Se-mi rarely agree on.
Really enjoys hanging out with each person in their rooms one on one but hardly invites himself in, he usually waits to be told he's welcome to hang.
Needs sound to fall asleep so he actually doesn't mind the chaotic late nights in the house. It's good background noise and oddly makes him feel safe.
He helped you and Se-mi decorate a bit, mainly just contributed plants that he's attached to and takes good care of.
Always picks a romantic k-drama on movie night and falls asleep first.
Secretly loves how much he gets under Nam-gyu's skin during game nights, Min-su ends up winning more then anyone else.
He doesn't touch the drugs Thanos and Nam-gyu do but he will drink with the group. He's still composed when he's drunk but he laughs at everything and cracks everyone else up in the process.
When everyones up late and hungry he'll volunteer to go get snacks from the gas station for everyone.
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NAM-GYU
Comes home at like 3 am after promoting clubs, if you and Thanos are awake your guy's room is the first place he goes. He'll sit in Thanos's gaming chair and talk to you two about the crazy shit that happened with the junkies at work. Nam-gyu is still a user, after the games him and Thanos have calmed down a bit on the drugs but will occasionally pop pills for fun, you occasionally join.
Goes with Min-su on his late night gas station runs for the house so he can, "make sure he doesn't get himself killed."
Doesn't really cook or clean because he's usually out, but when he comes back home he contributes with beer and will randomly throw a new, freshly packaged fruity vape at Thanos, surprising him with it.
Nam-gyu always fucks with Min-su during game nights, he's super competitive. Min-su's nonchalant attitude about winning really gets under his skin. He takes every board game very seriously and hardly wins, but when he does win you're not hearing the end of it.
Asks everyone to go to the club so he can see you guys while he's working. He sneaks you guys free drinks on a tab and hangs out as soon as he's off.
He asked Se-mi to pierce his ears for him and freaked out and complained the whole time. It took 45 minutes for her to do both ears.
Occasionally brings girls home but he's very secretive about it, no one sees them come in or leave.
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SE-MI
Se-mi does most of the chores because she doesn't trust anyone else to do them right, defiently the big sister of the household.
Only asks you and Min-su to go run errands with her, she doesn't wanna put up with the others, "Hurry, let's go before the idiots notice we're leaving."
She always tells Min-su to stay away from the drugs. If Thanos and Nam-gyu are on them and are acting a little too crazy she'll go and hangout with Min-su in his room or take him out of the house to go for a walk or get food.
She'll hangout with you in the bathroom and play music while you get ready to go to work.
She cooks for everyone and really enjoys it but acts like she doesn't.
She'll get Thanos and Gyeong-su happy meals when she stops at McDonald's for everyone.
Likes to argue, she'll debate Nam-gyu on his shitty takes on the movie you guys are all watching.
Her room always has music playing softly, like Min-su she needs noise to feel comfortable.
She's the organizer behind most of the little group hangouts.
If she finds a bug/spider in the house she'll pick it up with a napkin and chase Nam-gyu and Thanos around with it, Thanos squeals in terror and Nam-gyu shouts, "SE-MI BACK THE FUCK UP IT'S NOT FUNNY!" Gyeong-su giggles like a little kid while he follows Se-mi as she chases them around.
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GYEONG-SU
Gyeong-su likes to play obnoxious rap music on the TV at max volume so everyone can hear it.
He raps around the house trying to replicate Thanos but he's honestly just not good and no one has the heart to tell him.
Tries to brag to everyone at work saying, "Yeah, the rapper Thanos is my roommate." but none of his coworkers care.
Gyeong-su is super lightweight, he always ends up the drunkest whether you guys are just drinking at home or clubbing. He hurts himself a lot when he's inebriated but it's nothing too serious, just tripping and running into walls. He'll come home and fall asleep on the couch or the floor and everyone else just leaves him there until he wakes up the next morning.
Super loud on his video games at night, he invites everyone to his room to watch him play and hangout. He lowkey secretly dreams of being a famous streamer.
Asks Se-mi to make food for him at like 2 in the morning.
Gyeong-su typically doesn't like going out alone so he begs each member of the group to go with him to do something, even if it's simple like walking to the store or picking up a prescription. If someone says no, he's knocking on the next persons bedroom door. He always asks for you and Thanos's advice on what to wear before he meets up with a girl or goes out.
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YAYY that's it! I hope you guys liked it, I love team Thanos with my whole heart and I wanted to write something cute for them :) Let me know what you think!
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thekinslayed · 5 months ago
Text
Come and Play
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pairing | modern!aemond targaryen x gf!reader
tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral (m), dry humping (?), foot humping rly lol, gamer bf!aem, slight dom/sub dynamic, bratty reader
wordcount | 1.4k
note | WE'RE SOO BACK! big thank you to my love @silcoangel for this idea!! she said gray sweatpants gamer aemond and i got to work đŸ«Ą not my best bc i'm a little very rusty but i'm soo happy to be putting this out for u guys. consider this my v day gift <3
likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!
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“They’re right behind the corner, Aeg— Yeah, I see ‘em.”
Your eyes are starting to burn the longer you stare at the bright purple lights that tint the room. Though the dizzy haze of cigarette smoke in the air might have something to do with it too. You’re cold, exposed legs prickling from the near frigid air Aemond always prefers, but something within you burned red hot. Pulsing and creeping its way, both to your head and somewhere down south. 
You huff. Bored and forsaken by your boyfriend for whatever combat game he’s been into. Brows furrowing and orbs starting to burn holes into the back of his gaming chair. His throne, if you will, and his controller his mighty sword. He’s starting to yell into his bulky gamer’s headset, some colorful words thrown to his brother on the other end. Aemond’s always been intense, especially when it comes to winning. 
His navy sheets, usually so pristine, turn mussed and crumpled up the longer you toss around in his bed. They smell like him, and so did his shirt you put on. He smells like pine, of the greenest earth in the deep forest, though tinged by tobacco and musk. It was utterly heavenly. So addicting, and so Aemond. You can’t stop pressing your nose into the fabric every so often to find him.
You miss him right now.
Your patience is dwindling, and on a better day, maybe you would have waited it out for longer. But you want him now. You swing your legs to stand, padding barefoot over to stand behind his chair. Cold fingertips trail along the line of his shoulder, reminding him of what he’s forgotten. He pays you no mind, the furious clicking of his controller unceasing and his hypnotized trance unyielding. Yet you persist, hands caressing his bare chest, nudging your nose into the crook of his neck.
“Aem,” you sigh, breathing in the scent of his skin. Always smells so good. “You said only an hour.”
“Hold on— Aegon, are you fucking blind or stupid? He was right behind you!” He’s loud against your ear, and you can hear his brother equally booming through his headphones. You sigh again, annoyance ticking deep in your chest with being ignored. Yet you were anything if not persistent. You like having your treat as soon as the inkling of a craving starts to tickle your tongue. If the incessant grumbling and quick tapping are anything to go by, their game isn’t going well. Maybe Aemond will get tired by the end, and you’ll have him all to yourself again. You know you will.
You warm your hands down the heated flesh of his abdomen, growing bolder with each caress. Your nails trace the line down his abs, and when your fingertips finally dip into the waistband of his sweats, Aemond starts to break out of his video game-addled trance. 
“Stop,” he hisses, grabbing your hand in a tight grip. His larger palm pulls you away, before returning to his controller like a magnet. It should offend, really, but it only sharpens your aim.  
You peek at the monitor, some first-person shooter game that makes you dizzy with the twists and turns, but then you spot the timer in the corner. Only a minute left, perfect. You decide to play nice, simply settling your hands over the ridged plane of his stomach, hugging the smooth leather of his chair as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Slowly, your fingertips start to trace the bumps of his muscled abdomen, drawing some small circles. You follow the path of his happy trail, feeling the fine hairs under your touch as you descend lower, and lower. And then he sighs, exhaling deep. He’s stopped talking now, but the cinch in his brow tells you he isn’t very pleased— with the game, or with you; it hardly matters. 
Time runs out, and the screen flashes red as they lose the game. “Fuck,” Aemond grumbles, throwing the controller onto his desk and running a hand down his face in exasperation. You preen at his weariness.
“Aw, too bad, babe,” you pout, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly before stepping into his eyesight with a giddy look. “Come to bed?”
He considers you for a moment, eyes draping down your form. Nipples poking through his old college shirt, bare legs prickled in the chilly temperature, thighs subtly starting to rub against each other. Aemond meets your gaze, and for a moment, you can see your victory in his icy blues. Then they shift.
“Yeah, I can go for one more,” he says to Aegon, smirking as he leans back into his chair. You catch his abdomen clench, the shape of his cock outlined by the soft gray fabric of his sweatpants, taunting. Like dangling a treat in a dog’s face. The quick clicking on his controller resumes, and your boyfriend’s focus is sucked back into his game once more. 
“Are you fucking serious?” you glower.
“Let me win this last one, yeah?” he grins. His palm, warm against your skin, softly pushes your thigh. “Can’t see, love, go back to bed.” 
You grow hot, brows furrowing in disbelief. Aegon must be saying something about you, with the way Aemond snickers and his eyes flicker back to you with a lopsided smirk. 
All a game to him. And just like Aemond, you never like to lose. 
You kneel before him, fitting perfectly in the space beneath his desk. His eyes flicker to you in confusion, before speaking into his headset again. Your hands run up the length of his thighs, tracing his dick with your fingertip. It twitches under your touch, and you smirk. You’re quick to grab the waistband of Aemond’s sweats, pulling out his half-hard length before he can protest. You can feel him sparing glances.
You gather spit, dribbling it onto his cockhead, warm and hefty in your hold. It lubricates your hand as you begin to stroke him up and down. It doesn’t take long for him to harden, growing in size once you begin to take his tip into your mouth, and Aemond grunts. You peek at him through your lashes, watching his nostrils flare as he tries to keep a grasp on his composure. 
Your work is quick, head bobbing along the length of him and hand stroking what your mouth can’t take. The other cups his stones, massaging and softly squeezing. You start to hear his breath. “Shit,” you hear him grumble under his breath. Trim hips start to subtly cant towards your face, his defense slowly crumbling with your tongue swirling on his mushroomed tip. The clicking slows, and you think you can hear Aegon yelling at him in his ear.
Soon enough, a loud thud above your head startles you, then another. His expensive gear is tossed with little care before he grips your hair. Aemond begins to thrust into you in earnest, fucking your mouth like his own little toy. “Fucking slut,” he hissed. “Is this what you wanted? Couldn’t even wait ‘til I finish the fucking game.”
His movements are harsher, assaulting the back of your throat. Aemond grips your hair tight, moving your head back and forth to his liking. The throbbing in your core grows unbearable, your panties warm and damp in need. He shifts in his seat, foot perfectly moving just right by the pulsing in between your thighs. You press your clothed cunt into his shoe, steadying yourself by gripping onto his calf for support. 
You hump his foot, moving your hips in tandem with his thrusts. A dark chuckle leaves Aemond’s lips at the sight of you, looking down with a sneer. “I thought I fucked you enough, yet you still act like some pathetic, desperate whore,” he says, pressing his foot harder into your pussy. You whimper, gripping his leg tight as you grind your clit onto his foot. He gives you no reprieve, thrusts unrelenting until his hips start to falter. Soon enough, your boyfriend is pulling you off his cock and gripping your chin tight. He furiously strokes his cock, and his foot twists side to side to drive you into further stimulation. It manages to snag your clit just right, and you’re cumming, your mouth falling open as you soak your panties. Aemond follows soon after, gripping your cheeks to keep your mouth wide, and he’s spurting thick, hot seed onto your tongue with a curse falling from his lips. He watches you swallow all that he gives you, looking down from the tip of his nose. Spit smeared to your cheeks, eyes tear-stained and red. You’re perfect. 
“Did I win?” you whisper.
"No, I did," he counters.
"Made you cave in, didn't I?"
Your boyfriend smirks, before pulling you up by the elbow to sit on his lap. He sits you with your back to his chest, thick fingers sneaking past the hem of your panties and finding the mess between your thighs. 
“Why don’t we go best out of two?” 
573 notes · View notes
juliettejwnewinesa · 10 days ago
Note
Can you write something with seong je? đŸ„ș Something preferably in the form of 5+1 type of fics. No pressure. Ngl I love your writing
XOXOXO
Thank you, angel, That means so much!! (foreigner reader since you guys love it)
5 Times Seong Je Showed He Cared (and the 1 Time He Finally Said It)
Pairing: Seong Je x fem!Reader Genre: Soft hurt/comfort, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff Rating: T Summary: Seong Je isn’t good with words. You’re not good with Korean. But somehow, in the quietest moments, you understand each other perfectly.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1. When You Got Lost on Your First Day
You didn’t even know how you ended up in the gym. You’d just taken a wrong turn looking for the art room and boom—now a dozen guys were staring at you like you’d dropped out of the sky.
Seong Je didn’t speak at first. Just squinted from his spot on the bench, towel draped around his neck, chest rising slowly from training.
Someone else asked, “Are you looking for someone?”
You blinked, clutching your paper schedule. “Uh
 귞늌 ?”
“Drawing class?” another voice asked, half-laughing.
Someone else snorted. “You’re way off, noona.”
You flushed. “I
 I don’t understand
”
That’s when Seong Je finally stood up. Not rushed, not slow. Just
 deliberate. Walked over and looked down at your paper in silence. His finger tapped the room number. Then, without a word, he nodded for you to follow.
You did.
He didn’t say anything the entire way, and neither did you. But he dropped you off at the right door and waited until you went inside.
Only when you turned to thank him—“Thank you
 thank you so much
”—did he finally speak.
Just one word.
“
ìČœë§Œì—ìš”.” (You’re welcome.)
2. When You Cried in the Stairwell
You didn’t think anyone was there. And honestly, even if someone had walked in, you didn’t think they’d care.
But the quiet scrape of sneakers on concrete made you freeze.
You didn’t even lift your head.
Until a small, folded napkin appeared beside you. Then a bottle of banana milk.
You glanced up. Seong Je didn’t meet your eyes. Just sat a little ways off, staring out the stairwell window like he hadn’t just handed you both those things without asking why you were crying.
“You
 okay?” he asked after a beat. The words were stiff, clumsy. Like they weren’t used to leaving his mouth.
You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Yes. I’m just
 overwhelmed.”
He tilted his head. “Too much?”
You sniffled. “Yeah.”
Silence.
Then he said something very quietly in Korean. You didn’t catch it all. But later, when you typed the words you did hear into Papago, it said: “It’s okay. Everyone breaks sometimes.”
3. When He Fought Someone for Talking Down to You
You found out after the fact.
You’d been helping in the library when some third year had muttered something about “foreigners coming here like they’re charity cases.” You’d tried to ignore it. Acted like you didn’t understand.
Seong Je, apparently, had been walking past.
He didn’t ignore it.
You saw him later with a busted lip and swollen knuckles.
“What happened to your—?”
“Nothing.”
“
Did you fight?”
“No.”
You paused. “Was it
 for me?â€đŸ€ŠđŸŒâ€â™€ïž
He didn’t answer. Just looked away and mumbled under his breath:
“귞 새끌가 뚌저 말 걞었얎.” (That bastard spoke first.)
4. When You Gave Him a Bandage
After his second fight in a week, you cornered him with your emergency kit.
“I can do it myself.”
“No. Sit.”
He blinked. You were the only person who spoke to him like that. Not because you were disrespectful—but because you weren’t afraid of him.
You dabbed antiseptic on his cut. He flinched, but didn’t pull away.
“
You always get hurt,” you whispered.
“I always win.”
“That’s not the same.”
He didn’t reply.
You smoothed the bandage over his cheek gently, brushing his hair back to avoid the sticky pad. Your fingers lingered near his ear for a moment too long.
He was staring at you when you finally looked down.
“Thank you,” you whispered.
“
For what?”
“For showing me I’m not invisible.”
That time, he looked away first.
5. When He Waited in the Rain With You
The storm had hit out of nowhere. Your umbrella had snapped. Everyone else had gone home.
Except Seongje.
He didn’t have an umbrella either.
But when he saw you standing outside, shivering, clutching your dead phone, he wordlessly pulled his jacket off and slung it over your shoulders.
Then he stood beside you. Getting soaked. Silent.
You looked up at him. “Your jacket
”
“You need it more.”
“But you’ll—”
He glanced at you. His hair was already drenched. “Not cold.”
The bus didn’t come for another 25 minutes. You stood shoulder-to-shoulder the whole time, dripping wet, jacket warm and heavy around your shoulders.
He never once told you to leave him alone.
And you never asked why he stayed.
+1. When He Finally Said It
It came out during the class trip.
You’d fallen asleep on the bus. Head against the window. Sunlight flashing over your face.
When you stirred, your head shifted—and landed softly on his shoulder.
You would’ve apologized. Moved away. But his hand settled quietly over yours before you could.
“Don’t.”
“
Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“I don’t mind.”
You looked up.
His gaze was still on the window. But he spoke slowly, like each word cost him something.
“I’m
 not good with talking.”
“I know.”
“But I notice you.”
Your breath caught.
“I see you,” he said, eyes still forward. “Even when no one else does. Even when you don’t think anyone should.”
Silence.
Then: “You don’t have to say it,” you whispered. “I understand.”
But he still did.
After a long pause—so quiet you almost missed it:
“I like you.”
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help-i-need-a-cool-username · 2 months ago
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Been reading a lot of sw angst fic so imma make a funny idea. The clones in charge (commanders, captains) start a competition amongst each other. The goal? Kiss your general
At first its for shits and giggles. The friendly competition becomes good for morale. And then. Then the jedi figure it out and they want in
Now the brothers are competitive but the jedi have no shame. Soon theres a scoreboard. Theres rules. Theres a whole point system. Every kiss must be recorded and sent to a committee they put together just for this
It is at this point in time when the competition reaches the ears of various members of the cast we know and love. And chaos truly begins
Aayla makes the first big splash because her video manages to get leaked and go viral. She grabbed a unsuspecting Bly by the belt before tossing his helmet and dipping him. They get extra points for Bly sticking his leg up. She releases him and he walks away dazed
The video brings the competition into the public eye, while initially being controversial among the non-jedi and non-clone members of the GAR bc fraternization and conduct, the Republic itself loves it. Its funny. It humanizes the clones. Its drawing monetary interest in supporting the GAR. So it continues
Padme calls Anakin and is like "whats your plan?" "There isnt any plan. The only person i want to kiss is you-" "screw that Anakin. You need to go big. Ive got money on you" "what-" "we need drama Anakin! Some flare! A stage presence! Have you considered a cape?"
Obi-Wan comes to Cody with his own dramatic plan and the men peer pressure Cody into doing it ("kiss him! Itll be good for morale!" "What is Commander Cody a coward!?"). They lose to Mace by two points. Both involved unecessary acrobatics
Depa figures out how to weaponize the jedi and vode's love of younglings by getting Caleb to kiss the cheek of a trooper's bucket as a thank you which jumps to the top and sets off a whole new bracket of the competition for younger Padawans
Plo, very mad that he can only participate under very specific atmospheric conditions, buys a stamp in the shape of a kiss mark and stamps the foreheads of his entire battalion. He's quickly swamped by votes from other jedi who cant kiss their clones or who dont have lips
You know that video of the guy covered in kiss marks and the cameraman is trying to figure out who did it? And at first you think its the girl because she's wearing the same lipstick but then the camera pans to a guy who's also wearing it but its super smudged and he's genuinely like "i wonder who did it?" That was Ahsoka's and drunk Anakin's submission and it was Rex's armor covered in kiss marks
The whole thing slams to a halt at Yoda's. The old geezer manages to win the whole thing. The man rolled out his whole 900 years of life and connections with the younglings in order to pick the greatest scenario for the most votes and points as possible, proving he is grand master for a reason
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nichuuu · 1 year ago
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Scatterbrain
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Word count: 18k+
They say it takes a village to raise a child. 
To raise a girl as fine as Jang Wonyoung, you’d probably need 3 whole villages.
Two of those three villages would be used to train the way she walks because it’s perfect: classy, poised, elegant. The other one would have to work on her outfits because god would she need those. Hopefully the village doesn’t operate a Shein style manufacturing line. She’d hate that.
Her face is the definition of “striking the gene pool lottery”, and so is the rest of her body. Lanky arms and legs; toned, slim tummy; big, bright eyes that glimmer under the flashing lights. Personally, you like her “you’re on camera” smile the most. She knows this, and she always makes it a point to shoot it your way as she struts towards you. She stops half way to get a flute of Champagne, make that two actually, then grabs another. Those long legs can cover one hell of a distance, and they bring her right to you in a matter of seconds.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” she hands you the Champagne flute in her left hand, and the rings on it shine in the light, “cause it’s starting to feel like you’re just stalking me now.”
Of course, it’s the snarky remarks that open the conversation. Jang Wonyoung, airheaded as ever m’lady, and you sip on the Bubbly that she’s very nicely delivered to you. Wonyoung is, of course, a little bit of an airhead in your books (only because she believes that you’re always there for her, nothing else), and it’s never not hilarious to watch her draw her lips into a thin line. It’s not the first time she’s hearing this from you; it certainly won’t be the last. You can’t control where you’re posted to, but you know for a fact that you’ll see her again a couple months down the road.
Cause your meetings with Jang Wonyoung are through pure serendipity really, and you certainly will start calling it that after you read that one story. You know: the one where this guy cheats on his idol girlfriend, who he has a tense relationship with, with another idol that he happens to meet just about everywhere. There’s 0 communication between the two of you when these types of events come around, and neither of you know if either of you will be there or not. Actually, it’s just you really; neither of you know if you will be there. 
“Here for Kwon Eunbi again? Or are you finding someone else?” This question of her’s is customary at this point. Never once has it been perfunctory.
“Well, I was actually here to try and catch an interview with Jo Yuri, but I guess you’ll do,” you reply. Wonyoung scoffs—so I’m second place then?—and you have to assuage her oh-so-damaged ego, “you’re making this inference on your own Princess. I never said anything remotely close to that.”
And it’s that smile on her face that makes you want to kiss her really. It’s gorgeous, it’s cute, it’s beautiful. She’s given you that damned smile so many times that you could probably draw it from memory, though you’d definitely butcher it. The dress is certainly doing it justice, and you watch it brush against the skin of her legs as she shifts her weight to the other foot. I’ve never been that good at inferences. You’re far better than me, Prince, and she’s playing with her hair: twirling and untwirling it around her finger. That ribbon atop her head
 Her stylist certainly knows their stuff.
“Think I’ll win an award this year?” Her question draws you away from your thorough examination of her. You take a moment to think, and you have to say, it depends, but I think you could definitely get something in some category. She gives you this inscrutable look, and she’s chuckling to herself as she looks at the crowd and sips on her champagne. You can guess what she’s about to say next: quite the crowd today, huh? And you’d reply, “Don’t think that they’re all here for you”, and that would prompt her to shoot back with, “Then who are they here for? You?”. 
But of course, when do things ever go according to plan?
“Have you thought about my offer?” she asks, and you’re caught off guard. 
Cause here’s the history between you two: Middle school best friends, always kind of inseparable. She was the beauty queen, it girl, and she still is; you were the writer, head of the school magazine, and you’re pretty much writing for the rest of your life. Wherever you went with her, rumours followed—Are they dating? I think they’re just friends. Maybe she’s trying to be the front of the magazine?—but you never thought much of it. It was just a simple friendship to you, nothing more. 
Then the kiss she gave you in high school changed it all.
It was a party, hosted by one of your mutual friends. She kissed you, and no, it wasn’t a Spin The Bottle forfeit, nor was it a dare of any sort; it was a sincere, tender kiss in the garden—unprompted, and away from any prying eyes and soft like silk chiffon. You have to admit, the sensation had your brain mired for a minute or so. But when you came back to your senses, you kissed her right back, and things got complicated after that. 
No one knew of it; it was your little secret. Wonyoung became closer than ever, and next thing you know, she declares the two of you “exclusive” but not dating. It’s because her agency has that funky dating ban thing, and Wonyoung was desperate to find a loophole, albeit a little complex. Of course, you’re willing to stay “exclusive” with Wonyoung in secret, but you started to worry that it can’t stay this way for long after the two of you get out of high school. 
But as fate would have it, your career paths meet at the crossroads, and now you see her every other month or so. You still text her when you can, and the “exclusive” relationship has sustained. Now that she’s an adult and she’s bringing in mad bucks for the agency, she’s informed you of some changes in her contact. From there, the offer was birthed, and you have left it unchecked for the past four months or so, “grey ticked” as she liked to call it.
“You haven’t texted in a while, thought you died,” she continues, leaning on her elbows against the table. “Thank god you’re alive, huh?”
You hoped that she’d just forget about it, but she’s more of a mnemonist than you give her credit for. An award show is the last place you expected to be caught off guard by Jang Wonyoung, but she’s definitely a master of surprise. I uh
 I haven’t really thought about it, is a lie you tell her and yourself. She smiles enigmatically, downs the rest of her Champagne. 
“Let’s talk about it tonight,” she touches your chest, and it’s soft like silk chiffon, “you know where to find me, Prince.”
She struts off to join the rest of her members, stops halfway to return her Champagne flute, then looks back at you over her shoulder to give you a small wave. You sip on your Champagne as the silk brushes against her skin. 
It’s a heavy breath that leaves your mouth, and it’s the rest of the Champagne that goes in.
*
302.
Gold lettering, black plaque. It’s grand, pretty elegant. Suits her well. 
Then the door opens. 
In her bathrobe, Jang Wonyoung shoots her “you’re on camera” smile. You’re earlier than expected—she lets you in—Matter of fact, I thought you might not show at all.
And it’s a must to quip back, “thought you’d be asleep by now you big baby.”
When the door closes, it’s straight to work, and here’s how that normally goes: kissing, undressing, foreplay, then finally—fucking. Not that it has to follow that order or anything, but it’s the unspoken schedule that Wonyoung’s written up. God forbid anyone goes against what the princess is comfortable with, not that you’d ever try to either way. Your voice is barely a mumble past her lips—aren’t we supposed to talk about something?—and Wonyoung’s quick to dismiss any queries, “later. There’s always time for it later”. 
So it’s the kiss that’s pulling you back into her. Her front teeth capture your bottom lip, pull, drags it back a little like she’s trying to unwrap you like a present. You hold her waist, and with gentle hands, you push her back against the wall. It’s not that you’re trying to get control or anything; you’re just attempting to give her something to work with, a place to rest as she starts to work on the buttons of your shirt. 
“Are you already naked underneath that?” you whisper, though it’s more of a drawl than a whisper. In response, she momentarily stops with your buttons to slide a section of her bathrobe away, giving you a good look at a column of her naked, milky skin. 
In short: Yes, she is very much naked under that robe.
“Don’t get distracted, my prince. Eyes up here.”
“You’re the one that made me look, princess.”
She’s evidently struggling with the last button of your shirt, and you have to let go of her for a moment to help her get it done. Then it’s off with the shirt, and she flings it against the door for convenience sake. Your belt’s next, and that’s taken care of before you can even say, let me undress you Princess. It does make her hesitate at the clasp of your trousers for a bit. Just for a bit.
“I’d like,” her fingers are moving again, and they’re awfully quick at unfastening your pants, “for you to unwrap me on the bed instead.”
How raunchy of her. Makes you want to try her on.
Your pants fall. Your hand slithers into the bathrobe. Her jaw drops. Wonyoung my darling, and your fingers have captured one of those perky breasts, the right one to be exact. How do you ever—it’s light pressure to the nipple for you; it’s mind melting for her—get away with being such a big slut? Look at you, I’m barely even squeezing here. You’d like to save that face she makes in a supercut of her other memorable faces: eyes wide, mouth agape and her chin tucked into her neck. Frame it up, take a step back, admire it. It’s the face of someone who’s pent up, the expression of a needy girl who’s been aching to get some dick. Maybe if you guys had met a little sooner, she wouldn’t be this sensitive. But now? A twist of your forefinger and thumb is all it takes to draw a cry out of her, a little more pressure is enough to rain hellfire upon her. What a crazy-hot mess she is; only god knows how to clean her up and get her sorted out.
Open mouth straight to your ear, Wonyoung lets out a breathy gasp. In your fingers, the stiff peak rolls between the pads—back, forth, back, forth: motions that make her weak in her knees. It’s with great effort that she pulls your face back to hers, captures you in her quivering lips. Elegance has long been thrown out the window by now, and it’s not going to be returning for quite some time, as if you ever need it at a time like this. She’s barely holding herself up at this point. Where did the prim proper Jang Wonyoung go? 
The answer’s in her kiss—gone, dusted, she was here just a minute ago though. She’s grasping at whatever inch of your skin she can find, and her nails are definitely gonna be leaving marks on the sides of your neck. You let out a small, wry laugh as you silently observe her behaviour, watching her implore without speaking, badger without requesting. It’s an art form really, the form of expression for the horny and desperate and bratty. When her hands grip your face and her nails sink into your cheek, you pinch a little harder and relish the pleasant vibrations that are sent into your mouth as she gasps. Her palms press into your jaw, and they’d probably crush it if you press any harder. Her feet patter against the wood as she starts to direct you to the bed. You kick off your shoes together with your pants. 
It’s definitely a sight to take in: Jang Wonyoung in a massive king size bed, a thin bathrobe being the only thing between you and that wonderful body being the bathrobe. Maybe if she wasn’t in this state she’s in, she’d gesture to you with a come hither motion, and invite you to remove the fabric from her body. Instead, she opts for a spine tingling mewl, and that’s your invitation to her body. It’s hardly an insinuation; the fact that she wants to be unwrapped like a present is undeniable, she used the word unwrap herself. The bunny knot holding the two pieces of fabric is symmetrical—has Wonyoung’s fingerprints all over it. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s watching you with a half-open mouth, maybe you’d compliment her on her efforts a little, maybe even call her “princess” a couple more times before you properly ruin her.
(But she’s already ruined, ruined by a mere bit of pressure to the nipple. What else can make her tick now?)
Her body is at your mercy and it, quite literally, jerks as you start to pull at the knot, undoing it centimetre by centimetre, millimetre by millimetre, inch by inch. You want to see how long she can watch for, how long she can witness herself be undressed in a painfully slow fashion. Needy as she is, she’s patient as she watches one end of the rope grow longer. 
Longer. 
“Do you want me to speed this up, baby?” The smirk on your face would earn you a pout from her if her nerves weren’t in a bundle at the given moment.
“W-Whatever you want,” she answers, and her voice is brimming with breathy arousal. How are you getting away with all this? She’d grab your wrist and pull by now if she wasn’t so damn needy right now.
You give a dry laugh. “Then I’ll keep at this then.”
Longer.
“Fuck. Just pull it all the way already.” She looks you right in the eye as she begs you to hurry, and now you can see the need brimming in those large, round eyes, the ones that stare back at you with soft intensity, if that’s even possible. She’s good at mixing emotions into her stare.
“I thought you said—”
“Just fucking do it!”
Slack.
And the knot comes undone, and together with it, the robe falls off to the sides of her body—it’s beautiful. Never have you taken so much pleasure in undressing her, but you sure-as-hell have taken this much time to admire that wonderful, slender frame. From your standing view over her, you get down to her level to get a better look at her. It’s all part of the game of course: the way you look her in the eye, the way you touch her jaw ever so slightly to turn it towards you. The kiss is sickly sweet, and she’s starting to taste more and more like that cherry lipstick you gave her when you saw her some time ago at another event. Into your mouth, she lets out a sonorous moan. Your fingertips brush along her skin, slither down from her collarbone to her cleavage—down to that flushed pink region between her equally flushed thighs. Almost instantly, the tip of your digits are coated in slick fluids, and you raise an eyebrow at the girl on the bed.
“I literally touched you.” It’s amusement permeating your voice more than anything. In the sheets, she squirms in the slightest, eyes locked on your fingers that rest against that dripping heat and breath caught in her throat. You know that if you were to shift your finger in the slightest, you’d trigger a chain reaction that you have no power over. Her legs would clamp, her abdomen would tense, her eyes would roll. In the midst of it all, she’d maybe scream, or maybe she’d moan; either way goes. As far as you’re concerned, she’s needy as fuck at the moment, and she’s not going to let anything stop her from cumming.
“Yea, well
 I can be sensitive.” Her defence is hardly a solid one, more of a perfunctory reply. Her head’s far from able to formulate a quip to throw back at you; that ability went out the window together with classy Wonyoung. “Put them in.”
You go against her request, and your fingers start to skirt the edges of that swollen, pink slit of hers. A crime—you’re going against the princess’ wishes, but realistically speaking: she can hardly be called a princess at the moment, so why comply? 
A portion of the bathrobe is still clinging on to her breast. You use your other hand to push it away, and the split second of contact makes her flinch. “Jesus. You’re so fucking turned-on right now,” you can’t help but muse, all while your fingers retrace te outline of her swollen lips. She’s shivering, she isn’t breathing quite right. “Do you want to moan, baby? Do you want to moan like a good little slut for me?”
And she fixes you with a glare. “F-Fuck you
 Put them in.”
No “please” this time. Shame. If she were more polite, you would’ve obliged; now you’ll just have some more fun with her. 
Your thumb finds the swollen nub, and a little brush is all you need to get her straining like a psycho in a straitjacket. What will I ever do with you Wonyoung?—and she’s getting wetter by the second—You look so pretty when you’re so needy, you know that?—why would you ever, for a second, think that she’d be as refined as the last time? She doesn’t play with herself when she needs to get off; she waits till she sees you again to get off on your cock, your fingers, your mouth. Sexting was off the table, she wants you to be physically there, driving her insane as she lets herself come undone. 
“You know,” and you’re almost laughing as you watch her face twist even further, “that I could do this forever right? I could just lie here, tease you for as long as I want
 Or maybe that’s what you want?
She’s messy, so fucking messy. Juices are starting to soak the bed—you can feel it as your fingertips round the bottom of her slit. Housekeeping would certainly question the spot, and the two of you wouldn’t be there to reply anyway. Her cheeks are flushed, the veins of her throat are popping. It takes a considerable amount of effort to stay this composed, but you know that she’s breaking more and more. With each round your fingers make, cracks start to form along that perfectly sculpted face. The fine lines on her forehead begin to show as her brows start to furrow. Strained sounds are coming from her throat as the urge to moan is slowly winning the battle against her will. She wants control, but she can’t have it when she’s a wet, hot mess next to you. She’s being bratty for the sake of it. Your fingers are your leverage against her. It’s killing her. It’s delighting you.
And just like fine China thrown against concrete, her will shatters. 
“Please! Put them in!”
And your fingers stop just at the top of her pussy. It feels like a long minute, but she isn't about to take another second of this. Her thighs clamp against your arm. Her fingers wrap around your wrist in desperation. She begs again. And again. And again. And again, again, again. The bed starts to creak as you start to move your fingers down her lips, down to the very end of her cunt.
God is she dripping.
“Will you moan for me?” you drawl huskily. A finger, two, three rest themselves against her heat. 
“Yes.” There’s barely any of her original self left in there. “Please just—”
The fingers breach her opening. She screams, a high-pitched, keening cry. The noise makes your cock strain in your boxers, and you have to grit your teeth as her inner walls wrap tightly around your intruding digits. A moment of stillness comes, a moment where she’s just breathing raggedly, struggling to process this pleasure that’s racking her body faster than she can comprehend. She’s a ticking time bomb of nerves; the slightest movement in this state could send her into perdition, and she’ll barrel past that point of no return faster than both of you can imagine. God, she’s sensitive. God, she’s a mess. 
The chuckle that departs from your mouth is one of perverse pleasure. “Baby,” you whisper, right into her ear as she struggles to catch her breath. She squeezes her eyes shut, and you watch with a grin as her chest rises and falls. The grip on your wrist is a vice, knuckle-white and unrelenting. She’s begging you, with her eyes, to start moving, and you have to tell her, “I can’t start till you let go of me, baby.”
And it’s with reluctance that she slips her hand off your wrist, but that hand won’t stay empty for long. You guide it to her own breast, and with a soft whisper, you tell her to squeeze. She’s servile. She complies without protest. Her eyes slowly open themselves, and you relish the way they’re lust-glazed appearance looks under warm light while her breaths level themselves out. For a moment, there’s calm. For a moment, it’s tender.
Then your fingers start to move. All hell breaks loose.
Everything she did to calm herself quickly becomes futile; it becomes undone as her back arches in a way that catches your breath in your throat. Your fingers graze her walls, pressed into each other as they slowly draw in and out of her. And mind you: you’re going slow, slow enough to make her feel every bit of your fingers brush against her insides. But it’s enough to make her curse, enough to get her mewling like a damn kitten while her hips start to rock, rubbing her clit against the base of your palm. There’s no way to describe how needy she looks; her want is beyond words, and you’ve barely even started. Three fingers is the most you’ve ever put inside her. Clearly, it’s working wonders for her.
And now you yourself have to admit: you’ve wanted her for some time now. Since the last time you saw her, you’ve fantasised about that slim tummy twitching, about holding that snatched waist once more, about those long legs wrapped around your neck while your tongue and fingers turn her into a pliant plaything. For weeks, you’ve wanted nothing more than pulling Jang Wonyoung apart, reduce her into a withering mess wherever you guys are and get her screaming till she’s sore. You can’t even begin to describe what you’ve done with her in your dreams, nor can you ever convey how it feels to desire her as much as you have. So, you put all of it into action, sordid sentiments channelled into your fingers that are making those cute features twist and contort in perverse pleasure. She’s rambunctious, and her juices are quite literally soaking your hand, spilling the strongest sillage of lust all over the bed. 
“Why do you always have to be so fucking messy?” You’re really just trying to see how much you can get away with at this point, though the answer seems to be: just about everything. Your fingers start moving faster. You love the way her cheeks are starting to flush even more. “Are you always this wet? Or is it just for me?”
The squelching is lewder than you can ever imagine. The sound of her slick, wet heat being breached by your fingers is enthralling. Add the sounds she’s making into that and you have the ultimate erotica audio that can bless mankind. She’s panting, she’s moaning, she’s whining—she’s doing it all really, and you’re just using your fingers. God knows how she’ll react once you’re inside of her, rock hard meat stretching her out instead of a few fingers fiddling around in warm walls. 
But hey, the sounds she’s making are ever so erotic, and she’s definitely making your blood flow to all the right places. She feels out of place; you can’t put your finger on what’s wrong in this whole thing. It’s probably a small detail, something you’d overlook over the sight of her chest heaving as air shoots out and gets sucked back into her mouth, her whole body straining and convulsing against the bed while you get a thumb on her clit and rub at a languid tempo. Probably something miniscule, not worth mentioning because all your attention is focused on the look on her face (you want to mess up the makeup so badly it’s almost frustrating). And no, you’re not trying to make her cum in five seconds; she’s just really riled up—bundle of nerves and trigger happy. Probably hasn’t been treated this way in a while, probably hasn’t had three fingers twisting around, sliding in and out of that tight wet hole slow enough to make her feel every bit of skin against her walls; fast enough to make her combust if you were to speed up, in, like, forever. 
“I–I
” She’s quite literally mewling, and the sharpness in her voice is so cutting that it makes an incision in a bag inside you that’s keeping all the perverse thoughts at bay. The thoughts are leaking out now, and it’s almost impossible to stuff them back in. You want her against the glass: tits against the window and ass in your hands while you pump and pump and pump into that slick tight hole; you want nothing more but to pick her up and have her lock her legs around you, tight frame flushed against you while you nail her against one of these walls that surround you; you want to unhinge that jaw and watch that pretty mouth—now parted to let the stream of moans flow—take your cock in and out between those kiss-swollen lips and watch the drool leak out the corners of her mouth. Shit. It’s killing you. Jang Wonyoung, dolled up. She’s killing you. 
(No way in hell are thighs meant to be this hot, and lips are not  supposed to look this delicious. Yet Jang Wonyoung somehow goes against every fucking norm, fights it naturally and effortlessly and wins like a seasoned warrior. So just for her case: her thighs can be this hot and flushed, and her lips can look this fucking appetising. You kiss her; it’s sloppy, it’s lewd, it’s hot and everything in between. Mark her neck, mark that row of skin above her right collarbone, mark her everywhere. Cusses are flying—god forbid her agency finds out about the things hse says while she’s getting fingered. She's making a mess out of herself. She’s making a mess out of you.
Fingers, just fingers and she’s already looking like this: hair fanned out, frazzled, looking like she just went through a car wash and yet somehow has her make-up intact. Fuck. You want to watch the mascara run, watch it streak while she tears up as she’s choking down cum and she’s struggling to take in air. Pretty little princess, messy and glacially being turned into some improper slut. It’s hard to not smirk while you ruin her with the same fingers you use to type articles about her—fingers that sing praises and can also make her moan enough to make her throat hoarse.)
The rhythm of your hand makes her body roll. Her toes–painted over, fresh manicure—curl into the sheets. Doe-like eyes stare back at you, plump red lips part to gasp your name, throat muscles strain trying to  curse and moan at the same time. The fingers are gliding in and out and in and out and she’s begging you to not stop (like hell you ever would) in those choke up little sobs while she’s—
Oh fuck baby I can’t I can’t I can’t — Anything. I’ll do anything. Please just let me cum. I’m so fucking close baby. Please just let me fucking cum. I’ll be a good girl. I-I promise I’ll be a good fucking girl for you just
 Fuck!
—blue screening on your fingers: lost in the sauce or whatever. Pliant plaything, docile doll. You’re certain she hasn’t gotten off in at least a month if the way she’s taking it is any sort of yardstick. She’s far beyond drenched, far beyond salvation and way off the deep end of the “needy” pool—drowning herself in her own sea of sighs and gasps and moans and loose phonics that slip out of her mouth. Ostinato of your fingers squelching in her cunt; half time rhythm of the creaky bed; melody of the chorus of Jang Wonyoung’s voice—music to your ears.
And there’s lots to unpack from the moment you locate that soft spot at the top of her pussy. There’s a lot of cussing, a lot of jolting, a fair amount of whining and your name is thrown somewhere in that mix. You find her lips, she kisses back, one of her hands grabs your arm, nails dig in and stay there. Flurry of actions, filthy language—fucking hell, someone stop her.
Bottom line: lots of action. You find it congenial to start from the part where it quite literally ends her world. Once your digits curled up into that sensitive patch of flesh, it was all over for her.
You can pinpoint the exact moment where the orgasm rips through her body, the exact moment where her muscles seized so perfectly that her back arches. The pulse around your fingers is strong, walls tight around your digits and your thumb gently rubbing on her clit while the pleasure rolls through her body, molten iron libido converting the feeling between her thighs to electricity that makes her short circuit. The moan is breathy if anyone’s asking, and the look on her face—twisted, perverse satisfaction: superimposing need and want—has a whole foot over the line of pornographic. Wires are fraying in her head, her vocal cords are strained, she’s ruining the sheets with her juices; you’re complicit in every damn part of this, and guilt is the last thing on your mind.
Then her back falls back flat against the mattress, and the sheets ripple as her body makes a dense thump against the bed, punctuating the sigh she releases into the air. Nerves are unbundling themselves. She’s sweaty and panting. Your fingers are beyond soaked.
“Messy,” you muse, slowly drawing your juice slicked fingers out of her cunt. You bring them to her mouth. She languidly tastes herself, sweat-darkened sheets hugging the muscles of her shoulders and lining her ribs. She looks so tiny in the bed if you looked over the fact that her legs were dangling over the edge of the mattress, and that’s easy to do once you lean in for a kiss.
(It’s not hard to slip your tongue into her mouth, and there’s barely any fight left in her as you roll her nipple between your index finger and thumb. The sweat-matted hair sticking to her forehead adds a nice touch to her face.)
“Such a good girl.” Your tone is warm as you praise her, and a hand moves to cup her cheek in an act of tenderness. Her eyelids flutter shut. She puts the weight of her face into your palm. 
“Do I get my reward now?” she whispers, and it’s more of a plea than a question really. You take a moment, not to think, but to drag out the suspense for a little more before you give her an answer. You take guilty pleasure in knowing that you could keep her on tenterhooks for the whole night—the only thing stopping you is the throbbing of your cock in your boxers and the look of sheer need on her face. If you could: you’d drag this out a little longer, maybe tease her a little and call her more names. You still could do that, but you’d much rather fuck her instead. 
“Where do you want it?” your thumbs hook into the waistband of your boxers and hook them down. Your cock springs free from its cottons confines, and Wonyoung’s eyes instantly dart to it. She may be a little obsessed with your cock, but only a little when she’s depraved (which is right now). Before you can even react, she has your shaft in her hand, lanky fingers wrapped around it and pumping it with considerate strokes. 
“I want a big load in my ass.” she requests, far from innocent and banking more towards improper, which seems to be a pretty big theme of hers tonight. “I’ve been wanting to feel daddy’s  hot load leaking out of my ass for a long time
” The strokes delivered to your length grow firmer and firmer by the second. “Please?”
The spikes of pleasure her small hand delivers to your system is really making it hard to say no at the given moment. Of course, she’s well aware of it, and she’s definitely feeling so damn smug right now. And so with a very clouded mind, you nod. She smiles smugly, unaware that you’re about to fuck that smug little smirk rig of her pretty face. Conveniently, she’s already on her back—it’ll make the process so much easier. 
“I take it that the lube is in your bag?” You raise. She grins and nods. 
Sure enough, you find it in the exact same place as it usually is: side pocket, right next to her lipstick. You toss it towards her and move around her, slip her ankles over her shoulders. She lies still, unmoving and obedient as her left calf goes past her head, then her right. You lean forward, and she gasps as she's almost bent her completely in half. She’s flexible; this position won’t bring any harm to her, but it is congenial to ruin her asshole and leave her sore for the next day or so, which is exactly what she wants, but probably not how she imagined herself getting it. She cracks open the lube, and with precision, squirts a generous amount of it on the tight ring of her ass, making eye contact with you all the while as the clear liquid gathers at the puckered ring of muscle. The tube is discarded to a side when she’s done, and she uses her hands to spread her asscheeks for you, inviting you to take your liberties with her hole.
“Come on Daddy,” she urges you. “Come fuck this ass,” she continues, her hands spreading her ass cheeks even wider as you start to line yourself up with the tight ring. “Wreck this fucking hole Daddy, I can fucking take it.”
To hear her say those words was almost enough to have you cum right there and then. You press the tip of your cock at the open, gaping hole of her ass, swirling it around the entrance, collecting more of the copious amounts of lube around it. She was generous with the amount of lube she dispensed; you're about to be generous with the strokes you're gonna make inside that ass.
(She yelps when you slide inside her ass. God does it feel so fucking divine.)
She is so tight and wet and hot that you think you could’ve cum with your first thrust inside her. Her pussy was tight and hot, but her ass was even tighter and even hotter. Even though your cock was slick with lube, it did close to nothing to keep the sheer tightness of her asshole from clenching around you like it was a really small glove. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been inside her ass, but it sure as hell felt like a novelty every single time you entered that tight ring of muscle. Fuck. The heat, the tightness—sublime. You think you could cum in a matter of seconds if you didn’t have self control.
“Go!’ she hisses, through the pain and discomfort. “Fuck me. Fuck my ass!”
You would have been happy to stay there, buried balls deep in Wonyoung’s ass, but her own words goad you into moving—slowly at first, but with a steadily increasing pace, you begin to fuck Wonyoung’s ass with long, slow strokes. She hisses—part glee, part discomfort—as your shaft starts to pump itself in and out of her ass. You draw yourself out till only the base of you tip remains inside of her, and then you thrust back in, hard, hard enough to make her yelp out in pained pleasure while she grits her teeth and watches your rock hard shaft fill her ass. It's a perverse show for her, and it brings you a sort of dark satisfaction in knowing that past all that discomfort she’s feeling, she loves the way your cock stretches her out and fills her defenceless little hole. 
With her ankles over your shoulders, you’re practically spearing yourself vertically into her ass, fucking her deep and making her feel every inch of your throbbing meat inside of that hot, tight hole. Every penetration is punctuated by a deep, guttural groan from Wonyoung, sometimes a curse, or something along the lines of: fuck. So fucking full. You know for a fact that the pained sounds you hear now will turn into airy gaps of pleasure once she gets used to the discomfort, and that she’d probably be a mewling mess by the time you reach the stage where she can take you in and out of her ass with only pleasure in her system and no pain. For now, you’ll settle with the pace you have—slow, long strokes in and out of her ass while she squeezes her eyes to block out all sensations distracting her from enjoying the sensation of her ass being filled with cock. You have to admit that she’s doing a great job at it, and your praise vocalises itself in the rather harsh form of, “what a good little slut.” 
(And here’s something interesting you noted: never once in this whole thing did she ask you to stop, nor did you ever think about stopping to let her adjust. If this was anyone else, you would have given them a moment to breathe upon entering, and you certainly would be checking on their wellbeing throughout it all. 
Thing is—the two of you know her too well to know that you could only dream of stopping once you got started with her, and it could only end in two ways. 1) You cum in her. 2) You cum on her. Edge her and you’ll never get the end of it, you would know. The last time you pulled a stunt on her like that, she left you tied to a chair with a vibrator taped to your cock till you were begging and a cummy mess. It wasn’t pretty. She could dominate if she wanted to, but she preferred to be a manipulative brat instead.)
It’s not long before she’s desensitised to the pain, and your slow pace is not enough, no, not for Wonyoung. Next thing you know it, she hissing for you to go faster, fuck her harder—I told you to fuck my ass Daddy. Don’t hold back on me now—and deeper. She swears, all three languages that she knew strung together shabbily like they were put together on some shitty production line and thrown out at random—and while you made little sense of the sounds coming out of her filthy mouth you knew what they meant.
Harder. Faster. Rougher.
Then you fuck her ass. Hard and fast.
You almost surprised yourself with the liberties you were taking, drilling in and out of her butt with the same speed and depth that you would use with her mouth and pussy.
“Yes!” she shouts—a loud, full shout. “Yes! Fuck me like this! Pound me, fuck me until you cum in my slutty little ass!”
You grunt in reply, because it was all you could do. The faculties of human language have long since abandoned your grasp and ability, and nothing else exists in your mind except the thought of filling her tight, hothole with warm, white semen. Her eyes lock with yours and you only find that they’re full of need, nothing else (not like she’s capable of displaying any other emotion at the moment). The rest of you, every fibre of your being, was focused on pounding Wonyoung’s tight little hole as hard and fast as you possibly could. Her ankles bounce helplessly behind your head, her knees press into her shoulders and her breath is ragged; sweat drips off your forehead and onto her tits, and your hot breath mixes with hers as you struggle to keep yourself propped up with your arms.
In short: the two of you are sweaty and messy (one more so than the other. Take a pick, not sure if there’s a prize for guessing right), victims of lust and slaves to pleasure. You blame Wonyoung just because you can.
For a few delicious moments, there is absolutely nothing in the world aside from the tight hot sheath of flesh around your cock, the warm flesh of her legs against your shoulders and the strands of sweat-slick hair that fly just about everywhere, all topped with the lewd, filthy, obscene words spilling from Wonyoung’s mouth. For a few delicious moments, she feels nothing but the feeling of her tight hole being stretched and used by the cock that turns her face into a wrought outlet of pleasure while she lets filthy words and exclamations spill from her lips. 
Try as you might, you couldn’t have it last forever. Not when you were already so turned on from watching her writhe and twitch under your fingers. Not when the sheer, pure pleasure overwhelming you was more than enough to cause you to cum at any moment.
And when she orgasms for the second time, her ass tightening exponentially around you—there is little you or anyone else could have done to stop the inevitable.
“I’m gonna cum in your ass, Wonyoung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, your lust and pleasure-addled brain on the edge of losing all comprehension.
“Cum with me! Fill me!” 
And so you do it, burying yourself hilt deep inside the quivering woman’s asshole before filling it with the last of your cum, giving her every last drop you had left in your body, leaving rope after rope inside her sore, well-used, cum-filled asshole. You almost black out, and you quite literally have to dig your nails into the sheets while Wonyoung’s own orgasm takes over her body, making her twitch and her ass contract—milking every last bit of cum from your throbbing, twitching length till it was nothing but a dry, hard rod inside of her creamy asshole. 
There’s silence that is punctuated by both of your ragged breaths. She looks at you, you look at her. And the two of you can’t help but chuckle at the mess you’ve made of each other. You want to remember the way her nose wrinkles as she teases you, “you fucking animal”, and you want, so badly, to burn the image of a sweaty, weary Jang Wonyoung, folded in half beneath you like she was a piece of origami paper, panting and gasping as a fresh load of cum spills out of her ass. 
It takes energy, but you bend down and kiss her, letting her sweaty calves slide off your equally sweaty shoulders as you do. She’s satisfied, for now, and she pulls you down next to her on the hotel bed with one hand and gathers the cum leaking out of her ass with the other. 
“Look at this,” she whispers, and your eyes train themselves on the pearlescent, sticky, slimy, fluids that run down from her fingertips slowly. “You made such a big mess inside my ass,” she chides before bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking your cum right off her fingers like it’s a delicacy. “Now I have to clean all of this up. You’re lucky I like the way your cum tastes.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Um
 Ew?”
Wonyoung smirks and gently nudges you with her left foot.
“It’s okay,” she tells you, all smug and everything. “I know you love the way I taste too.”
* In the dark, her small hand creeps around your torso and grasps yours. 
“You’re awake, aren’t you?” She’s whispering right into your ear, and it’s a sensation you want to be able to hold on to for the rest of your life. “I know your eyes are open.” The feel of her small fingers rolling the knuckle of your index finger sticks itself in your head like a post-it. “ I can hear and feel you tossing, you know?”
Okay. No dodging. 
The sheets stay still as your shoulders turn. You roll over, face her, and you really just want to capture the way the night lights paint her face: doe-like eyes reflecting glimmering pools of moonlight, warm yellow light painting her cute-yet-so-fucking-gorgeous face in a manner that not even Van Goh could copy, lips parted slightly as if in mid speak. She’s right there—you can kiss her if you really want to.
“Are you still mad at me?” She asks, tender with her tone. “I know that I fucked up, okay?” You can tell that she’s not even trying to look pitiful at the moment, but the way her face is sculpted really makes you want to just hold her to your chest and stroke her hair. Sincere are her words—heart heaved into her mouth. “I don’t blame you if you’re still mad. It’s your right. But
 Just hear me out? Please?”
If you were mad, you wouldn’t have let her hold your hand the way she was now. If you were mad, you would’ve pretended to be fast asleep; ignore her pleas and just close your eyes and fall asleep. Alas, you can never stay mad at her for too long.
“I was
 Never really angry, Wony.” Your tone is a lot softer than you would ever expect, but you know it’s because you probably needed this talk more than she did. “I... I’m sorry if it came across that way.”
And she studies you for a moment, lets the sound of your breathing fill the space as she furls her upper lip into her front teeth, and it’s a perfect moment for you to try and understand what’s happening in her head. She’s a complex creature really; understanding her is like finding a meaning that everyone can agree on when you look at abstract art.
Down below, you can still hear the cars moving through the street. Billboards and screens are still on, and from the window in your bedroom, multi-coloured lights filter into the room past the blinds like moonlight through bamboo leaves. The sheets you lie in are fresh, and they feel nice and smooth against your skin, and they smell like roses. The mattress creaks a little as Wonyoung shifts her weight, and you have to admit that you’re half-drunk on the scent of her shampoo. 
“You must have been scared,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I got really emotional. I
 I shouldn’t have walked out. I’m sorry.”
You didn’t know how to reply to that. Not now at least. Maybe it’ll come to you the next morning.
You give her a sweet smile. You hug her to your chest. You want to remember how she feels in your arms.
*
The gentle trickle of water down the arch of her spine is really something—a steady stream flowing down her back, running over the muscles of her shoulders, the curve of her breasts and fraying at her plump ass. You can’t remember the last time you showered with her, but you certainly remember the view being this good. 
In the shower of room 302, Jang Wonyoung lets the warm water hit her skin from the rain shower nozzle. Her hair—wet and freshly shampooed (and conditioned)—sticks to her back. Creamy skin glistens, small beads of water affix themselves to random parts of her body, stay there for one or two seconds, then roll down in streaks, almost as if they too were admiring Wonyoung’s well-sculpted figure.
Slim fingers grasp locks of hair. She lifts and looks over her shoulder, the whisper of a grin on her face as she shoots a beckoning wink. “Are you gonna help me soap my back? Or are you just gonna keep staring at my ass?”
“Don’t you have to, like, turn off the water first?” you ask, and you already know what she’s gonna say, but you just want to hear her say it. For memory sake.
“Mmmm.” Her humming as she ‘ponders’ reverberates in the shower, floating over the sound of water from the shower head falling to the floor like rain. “No
 Adds to the atmosphere, don’t you think?” 
Ah. There we go.
“Then could you at least step back?” you request. This shower is comically huge—long length, breadth about the same length as your arm span. In the space, she looks so tiny, but you know for a fact that she could probably walk to the other end of the shower in a stride. You’re not one to disregard the facts, but you do like to live with a bit of imagination.
Wonyoung chuckles, low and sonorous. She pushes her hair over her shoulder, then—painfully slowly—walks back till she’s out of the stream of water. Water wastage is the last thing on her mind. She stops when she feels your hands on her back, and she looks over her shoulder, expectant. You move your hands and the soap lathers as it’s spread. You start from the centre of her back, rubbing gently in the section where the muscles of her shoulders meet and working your way outwards and upward to her shoulders. Then it’s down from there, your palms moving in small circles and covering every inch of skin.
“You’re good at this,” she mutters, watching with intent as your hands start to trail to her lower back. “Maybe you should’ve been a masseuse instead of a writer.”
“Uh
 Patronising much?” You chuckle, watching as her back muscles twitch a little when you apply gentle pressure. “The pay’s about the same,” the soap makes patterns across the area above her ass—spirals of foam that stick to her skin like styrofoam flowers. “The hours are probably the same
 But I don’t think I can live on rubbing someone’s back really hard. I Think I’ll just save this service for you, but only for when we meet.”
Humored, Wonyoung offers a giggle, high pitched and cutting above the sound of water striking the floor tiles. She shifts her weight to her right foot, making her body slant a little. Her skin is soft under your palms. Your hands are going lower and lower, slowly spiralling towards the curve of her ass that’s literally just a centimetre away.
“You know
If you take up my offer, you can do this for me everyday.”
Your hands slow to a stop. You raise your head a little to find her searching for your gaze over her shoulder. “Oh?”
“Yea.” Her voice is low, like a mother trying to persuade her child to eat their vegetables. “Every night, we can be like this: you soaping my back, us chatting
 Doesn’t it sound wonderful?”
Your lip furls behind your front teeth. “Yea
 It really does.”
And in her gaze, you sense her sensing your apprehension. “What’s stopping you from taking it up then?”
(For context, here’s the deal proposed by her company: the two of you go public with the relationship, get clout for the company, and Starship will let you lead your lives together—no qualms, no disturbances. She can visit you whenever, live with you, appear outside together with you like it’s a regular Tuesday night; you get to date the girl you fell in love with all those years ago for real. Only issue: once you get the last stroke of your signature out on the contract, you practically agree to blurring the line between your private and public life. Press will be all over you like ants after you step on their nest, you probably won’t get to enjoy a cup of coffee in peace, everyone will suddenly want to curry favours with you
 Was it worth the sacrifice?)
You find it hard to meet her eyes, and so your gaze affixes itself on your hands. It’s not like you don’t love her or anything, but your apprehension makes you feel like shit. It shouldn’t be this hard to say yes, yet the idea of selling your life of privacy to live a life with her makes you screech to a halt at the crossroads. Sometimes (in these moments), you wished that you didn’t always make decisions with your head and your heart. 
As the shower continues to run, Wonyoung slowly turns around. One hand finds yours, the other gently takes you by the chin and raises your eyes up to her. She’s tall, and the two of you are staring eye to eye; same height, different trains of thought.
The hand on yours guides you to her breast. Eyes locked with yours, she lays your palm flat against her tit. The skin beneath your fingers is slippery, but it doesn’t remove any of the familiarity from the sensation. Then she squeezes, and the flesh spills out between your fingers like putty. She gasps—airy. 
“Don’t you want me?” She whispers, and it’s raunchy more than anything. It isn’t aggressive, but it’s certainly blurring the line between demanding and caring. “Don’t you want to be able to fuck this pretty little pussy every night?”
She’s really far from home base. “Wony
”
“Don’t you love owning me?” She’s squeezing harder. Her knee twitches. Sopa’s spilling out of your fingers. You’re certain that you’re gonna mark her. She doesn’t care. “Don’t you want me all over you? Every night?”
“It’s not that Wonyoung.”
“Then what’s on your mind?” She’s not prodding for an answer, nor is she trying to demand a reason for your silence. She wants to understand you, to internalise what’s going on inside your head. You have no reason to lie.
“Will it all really be okay?” you ask sincerely. “My family, my life
 Will
 Will it all really be
”
She understands where you’re coming from (if the relieving of pressure around her own breast is any indication), and she’s starting to tune herself to the frequency of your worries. “If you’re wondering if you’re gonna be harassed—you won’t.”
“Yea but—”
“I promise you: I will do everything I can to make sure that you will be safe. You and your family–if so much as a finger is laid on any of you, I will quit.”
“Wonyo—”
“No one will intrude on you. You won’t have to live with the flashing lights. I give you my word: I will make sure that everyone who wants to invade your privacy will leave you alone. You and your family will all be left alone.”
If it’s possible for sincerity to ring clear, Jang Wonyoung has absolutely made it happen. Sweet like honey; she’s left you feeling like you had a spoonful of it. And just for good measure, she steps closer and repeats once more: “I promise.”
Considering that your hand was at the left side of her chest, this was really a “I swear. Hand to my heart” type of deal (whether it’s intended or not is purely up to your discretion). 
And as you gaze into those eyes, you want to remember the way she gazes at you softly, gently, tenderly. If it weren’t for your hand on her tit, you would’ve considered this one of the more tender moments you’ve shared with her. Not that it’s not or anything
 Just that it’s a little hard to call this a loving moment when you can literally feel her nipple poking into the flesh of your palm at all times of the conversation.
“Are you sure you won’t land yourself in trouble?” you ask her, and she’s quick to scoff.
“Of course. I make too much fucking money fo those higher up fuckers to not listen to me,” she reminds you. 
Well
 Then that settles about everything then.
“Okay,” you tell her. “Okay
 I’ll do it.”
The corners of her lips play up in a smile. She leans in, kisses you—no tongue, closed mouth—and lets the hand keeping yours at her breast fall. Long arms wrap around your waist and she pulls you close, flushing her tight frame against your body. When lips part, she whispers a soft I love you, a sparkle in eyes that lingered for a moment.
But only for a moment.
Then—without you noticing—her hand snakes down and grips your rapidly hardening shaft, and she squeezes. This time, the line between demanding and caring is clear as day, and she’s chosen to play her ball to the court of demanding. With a gleam in her eye, she begins stroking with her closed fist, and she pumps your stiff length at a slow but steady rhythm, adding an occasional twisting motion to her wrist, corkscrewing her fingers around your cock, increasing the pleasurable shocks she was sending through your system with each pump of her hand. It was almost like she wasn’t the sweetest, loving girl in the whole world just two seconds ago.
“Jesus fucking
” You can’t even finish your sentence. Your teeth grit. Your fists clench. It’s hard to breathe. “Maybe
 A little bit of a heads up next time?”
She smirks proudly, watching as you tilt your head back and let out a groan. “Where’s the fun in that?” And gently, she pushes against your chest, guides you to the wall. When your back presses against the cool tile, she presses herself against you. She leans in, hot breath on your skin, and then the feeling of her lips against your jaw almost makes you yelp. She kisses a path down your jaw, paves a way towards your neck to get cheeky: sucking, nibbling, licking the skin of your neck while she keeps the movement of her hands slow and considerate. The shower continues to run.
Do you know—she breaks contact with your skin for just a second—how fucking horny—her breath’s tickling your ear, sending shivers down your spine—you make me?—and she squeezes a little harder around your shaft, not enough for it to hurt, but enough to feel you throb in your hand and make you gulp a little. She starts going faster—jerking, fucking pumping your length in her closed fist, and it’s almost impossible to keep your eyes open; your eyelids flutter shut. Your head rests against the wall, a sigh slipping past your lips. It’s filthy really—down from the way she catches you off guard to the way she makes your skin sore after she’s done feasting. Almost every interaction with her in a private space is as X-rated as this; it’s hard not to get into a situation like this around her. You know: a situation where the two of you are naked and getting really touchy and actively trying to get each other as many times as humanly possible. 
“Fuck yes baby
” you rasp, your nails starting to eat into your palms as she the sound of her hand sliding up and down your dick starts to cut above the steady stream of water. With each rise of her hand, the pad of her thumb plays with the head of your member, and when it sinks down, she twists her wrist in a screwing motion. Rinse and repeat; up and down and up and down and fuck. “You’re so fucking good at this.”
She hums in reply, and she has your earlobe between her teeth the next second, nicking you mischievously, sending small pricks of pain shooting through your system as she adjusts her grip on your cock without ever breaking her motion. Next thing you know, your tongue is inside your ear, and she’s leaning in so close that when you open your eyes, you’re practically looking over her shoulder, looking down the curve of her back that glistens with moisture and soap bubbles.
“I love this cock so fucking much,” she whispers, a bit of a hiss in her words as she takes the head of your cock between her forefinger and thumb and pinches lightly. “It stretches me out when I need it.” her fingers start to trail down your slipper shaft, letting the smoothness of her palm rub against your whole length, “fills me when I want it.” She’s milking the precum out of you, making you all leaky and squirmy as she starts pumping faster. “And it’s so fucking big that I can choke on it. You know how much I love being choked.”
She chooses that last bit to make eye contact with you, and she’s practically served you what she wants next on a silver platter. The next move is clear cut and simple; no words need be spoken. You were going to fuck her—and you mean properly fuck her—with a hand wrapped around that small throat. How you were gonna do it was still a mystery, but you figured that it’d slowly come to you, but it will definitely be related to the mirror and the sink outside and the mirror in front of it. At once, you reach over to the handle of the shower, and you turn it down to the handheld showerhead mode. Wonyoung bites her bottom lip, perverse glee painted all over her face as you use it to wash the soap off her back. She’s watching, waiting, probably drenched down there and aching to be stuffed full of cock.
She’s almost shaking with excitement as you finish washing all the soap off her body. You’d hardly consider her clean, but it won’t hurt to hop back into the shower again once you're done with her. The shower door swings open and you’re cupping her pussy, dripping wet while stumbling out with her, lips locked on hers and her hand on your cock as you push her against the sink of her hotel room. From the moment her mouth opens and let the moans pour out while you rub her clit to the moment her hand leaves your cock to cradle your face, she’s practically radiating need from the pores of her skin. You can’t help but playfully remark, “you’re such a fucking loser”, while your thumb thumps against her clit and sends pleasure tearing through her system. Weak in the knees, she holds on to you for support.
And the moans (those fucking hair-raising moans), they tumble out of those plump lips like marbles down a ramp, and they mix with the sound of your lips smacking against her skin as you start to leave a trail of kisses down her neck, doing to her what she did to you in the shower; you give her a taste of her own medicine, and the way she’s titling her head back to let you mark her freely makes it almost seem as if it’s the intended outcome of her actions. It’s like she knew that you would get back at her, and it wouldn’t come as a surprise if you ever find out that she gets off on knowing that she can manipulate you in her own bratty ways—get you wrapped around her finger and have you doing all the things she wants you to do without having to tell you. Not that you have something to gripe about it, but you’re just so amused (and that’s just one word to describe how you feel) by how she goes about her ways.
“Come on,” she manages to whisper, all while you’re busy sucking on the skin just below her collarbone till it’s sore. She has a lot of pride in her voice for someone who’s quite literally quivering. “You know you want to fuck me. Give me a good creampie again.” 
You lift your head for a moment, and you take in the look of almost childlike excitement on her face as your hand finds its way to her throat. It’s perverse excitement, that lewd exhilaration of knowing that she was about to get what she wanted, and albeit a little messed up, it was pretty hot in its own way. When your fingers gently wrap themselves around her throat, you can feel every muscle in her body tense in anticipation, as if she didn’t get enough from the bedroom earlier.
“Up on the counter baby. Let me see how messy you are down there,” you whisper.
She knows what to do, and she has herself propped up on the counter and engaged in open mouth kissing. She doesn’t need you to tell her to spread her legs, and she definitely doesn’t need you to tell her how cute she sounds when your fingers slip inside of her, feeling around the mess you’ve made of her and coating your digits in her fluids. Your index and middle finger are slick with her juices when you retract them from inside her, and you can’t help but chuckle. 
“Messy as ever,” you muse, making a show of sucking her juices clean off your fingers. She’s sweet and borderline tangy—a taste that you’re accustomed to, and you will never get tired of it. She’s biting down on her lower lip, the skin wrinkling under the pressure of her front teeth as she makes a sound that’s close to a purr. 
“You made the mess.” She has her eyes locked on yours as you raise an eyebrow, prompting her to follow up after her first statement. Not that you didn’t know what was coming, but more that you wanted to gently coax it out of her, because it was so fucking hot to hear what she had to say next. “You clean it up.”
And you’re more than happy to oblige. She watches you with intent eyes as you sink down to your knees, waits with bated breath as you lower your face till the glistening, pink folds of her pussy are right in front of your face, flushed thighs around your ears. Her excitement is almost palpable, and you can hear the sharp inhale she takes when your palm finds its place on the inside of her left thigh, pushing gently to give you better access to her heat (you’re really just trying to drag out the tension if you were being completely honest with yourself). You lick your lips, lean forward till your mouth is hovering above her slit. 
“You better moan for me this time,” you tell her, and you’re making sure to make your breath hit her slick as you speak. “You have such a wonderful voice. Put it to use.”
Praise mixed with the slight hint of authority—it’s enough to make her nod furiously and implore you with doe eyes to just get on with it. With a smirk, your lips find the swollen nub at the top of her entrance. You suck on it. Hard. And almost at once, her thighs clamp around your ears and her hand is on your head, like it’s some sort of natural instinct for her when you’re eating her out. Keeping to her word, she cries out—keening, whiny and ever so fucking bratty, and it’s the the holy grail of every wet dream. Nothing in the world could bring you more satisfaction than that shrill, airy cry she lets out when the pleasure ripples through her body, and you’re just getting started. 
Your mouth opens and your tongue flattens itself against her folds, (She tastes so good. You want all of it, all of her) and you drag it up her folds, deliberately, painfully slow as you start to lick up that wet cunt. Her back arches; you can feel her struggling to keep a hold of your head; she throws her head back and lets out a gasp; her thighs clamp down a little harder around your head. The pleasure in her system builds up with the slow movement of your tongue, only rising and rising as you lick from the base of her slit to the mid section to the top. When the tip of your tongue flicks her clit, it's almost like an explosion, enough for her other hand to join its pair atop your head, enough to make her cry out in a perverse plea, “Daddy, please!”
(For the record: she’s wanted this from the moment you guys stepped into the shower. She’s willingly turned herself into some pliant little plaything, and she’s probably getting off so hard to it. Frankly, if she wanted to order you around, you’d be up to it, but this is what she prefers.)
And nothing else needs to be said really. You put your whole mouth on her—relishing the shiver that runs up from her thighs up to her body—and get right into making a wreck of her. You lick, you devour, you ravish her: working your mouth on her pussy, lapping up the juices that spill forth from flushed lips with broad, sharp strokes that make her body grow taut and her legs quiver. You tongue her clit, lick up sweet fluids, make her messy and needy and hot in all the right areas till she’s drilling her nails into the back of your scalp and pushing your face against her sweet slick. In half whispers, she tells you just how good you make her feel—oh Daddy I’m so fucking wet!—and you feel a dark part of yourself be fed by these lecherous words—Oh god oh fuck I’m gonna fucking cum if you keep
 Fuck!—that leave her half-parted mouth and linger in the air, reminding you of just how wanton she is and how you’re the only person in the world she ever wants to fuck and be satisfied by. You’re hers; she’s yours—a relationship with Jang Wonyoung that any guy would kill for. 
“Daddy—” she gaps, her voice a whole octave higher than it should be as her nails turn into claws at the back of your head. “Fuck I’m cumming. Daddy I’m cumming!”
The pulsing of her pusy against your tongue grows. You continue licking, lapping. One stroke, two strokes—three. She moans, blue screens. You hazard a look up.
Nothing else matters. Only: the sight of that back arching off the marble counter, her thighs around your head trembling and quaking as her hips roll and her mouth parts in a silent scream. You’re certain that there’s blood being drawn from the back of your head, but you're more certain that she’s got enough heat in her core to melt molten iron but a lack of breath that makes her gasp for air as you lick and lick and lick your way into her. You can feel her orgasm getting closer by the second, it’s in her breathing, and in the way her hips are practically thrusting her into your mouth.
And just like the bathrobe from earlier, she comes undone—falls apart and ceases to keep control of her body. She tenses, her thighs go rigid around your ears. Her breath is caught in her throat, her eyes are closed. You stop your work, admire the way she glows as her body twitches and her face twists. Pleasure rips its way through her muscles, her nerves—splits her very being in half as the orgasm rolls through her system. She’s beautiful, and she’s a messy work of art that you’ve created. 
You rise to your feet as she winds down, and her hands leave your head to rest on the counter while her body struggles to process the aftermath of that orgasm. It’s not the first time she’s cum for the night, and it certainly won’t be the last. Her eyes open, and she instantly locs them on you as you brush back some of the hair that sticks to her sweat slicked face. You take her hand and give a gentle tug, and she slips off the counter obediently. You grip her jaw—tenderly but rough enough for her to like it—and tell her to turn around. Servile, she obeys, and in the reflection of the mirror, she watches as your hand snakes its way to her throat and grips it. You’re not squeezing, not yet. 
“I’m gonna fuck this pretty little pussy now,” you drawl, gripping your shaft in your hand and slapping it against her slit. The contact makes her shudder, but she remains silent as you place a kiss on her cheek. “Your face is gonna be so pretty when I choke you and fill you.”
“Yes Daddy.” Her reply is a whisper, a borderline drawl that’s airy and raunchy and makes your hairs stand on their ends. She’s looking at you through the mirror, plump lips slightly parted and eyes glassy. “Own me. I’m yours, forever.”
And you’re all too happy to hear that from her.
You slip into her, hilt yourself inside her in one swift motion. 
(Tight. Hot. Wet. So tight.)
She lets out a sigh, low and sonorous, harmonising with your own groan as you press her against the edge of the counter and make the fingers around her throat squeeze. The sound that leaves her throat is the sound of her sigh being truncated, and it delights that dark part of you. Being inside Wonyoung was otherworldly, as it always was, but here, in the bathroom of her hotel, on the night where you’ve agreed to seal a deal with her, she felt downright heavenly.  She squeezes her walls around you, her body thankful for the sensation of being filled by cock, if the intense tightness and slick wetness were any indication; she looks over her shoulder and bites her bottom lip. And when she has your gaze, she mouths something. 
Fill me.
The silence is deafening, but it’s all you need to hear. 
When you withdraw your glistening shaft for the first time you relish in the feel of her walls gripping you, not wanting to release you—but just as quickly they welcome you back inside as you penetrate her again. Soon you are pumping in and out of her at a slow, steady pace, her soft gasps turning quickly into long, drawn out moans as she is fucked against the marble. Her hands steady her body against the counter, her back arched in a way that lets you get a wonderful top-down view of her breasts as they roll together with her body. It’s a concerted effort, but she makes it seem effortless. 
“Be honest.” With the hand around her throat, her voice sounds a little hoarse. It’s hot. “Do you think about this, Daddy? About fucking me like a good little slut?”
“Wonyoung,” you reply, speaking through your gritted teeth. “You have no,” and you punctuate the sentence there with a deeper thrust into her tight slick, a thrust strong enough for her to let out a strained gasp. “fucking idea
”
(In the mirror, you watch as she curls her lips into her mouth and tilts her head back into your shoulder, like she’s submitting her whole being to you and letting you take liberties with her body. You take the invitation, and your free hand finds itself on one of her soft mounds and gives it a squeeze—rough but tender enough to elicit a low moan from her throat that makes your hand around it vibrate pleasantly. 
At the given moment, she’s doing all she can to make herself a pretty little fuckdoll for you, doing her best to encourage you to treat her rough, treat her like you own her. She wants nothing more but to feel the rockhard meat penetrating her tight little cunt stretch her out and fill her the way she wants, all while she’s begging and pleading obsequiously while being obsessed with your cock. It’s a lot to take in for her for sure, but she gets off on it, and you get off on it too—the fact that she’s being all needy and pleading just so she can implicitly tell you to fuck her till she’s raw and can’t fucking walk the next morning. The fact that she’s actually in control while being such a bottom. Bratty manipulation.)
“Then fuck me Daddy,” she tells you, almost pleading. “Use this pretty little pussy. I want it. I fucking need it.”
With her invitation to do more with her body, you’re more than ready to do what you’ve intended to do from the very start. You increase your tempo, and before long you are truly fucking her, drilling in and out of the tight hot warmth of her body with quick, deep strokes. With each stroke you don’t pull out more than halfway—you concentrate instead on pumping hard and fast, getting as deep as you could inside her given your standing position. She takes it well, like she was made for this. In her world, this was what fucking looked like, and it was the only definition that she was going to live with and she’d take it to the grave. She indulges in the roughness, the almost animal-like way your cock fills her again and again and again, all while she encourages you with cries and moans and sighs that are music to your ears. 
And a notion hits you: she’s going to make you fuck her till she’s the only thing you can possibly think about. She’s going to draw out every single primal urge within you, make you want her like she’s some form of drug and you’re the abuser, and then she’s going to get exactly what she wants—your cum in her pussy. You can’t let her win like that, you can’t. You can tell that to yourself now, but you’re not sure if you can remember it later, not when she practically reeks of the strongest possible sillage of sex. 
Her pussy throbs around you, pulse strong and just a beat behind your thrusts as you thrust yourself in and out of her slick walls, filling her up and drawing yourself out before filling her up yet again. Pure filth spills from her mouth, expletives, sordid sighs and cries and any sound or word that comes to mind. She's a quivering and squirming mess, and from the mirror you enjoy the way she’s almost writhing in against the counter. Ample breasts bounce with each thrust that shocks her body, and it’s almost hypnotic if it weren’t for the fact that that pretty face was stealing the show. The face that was marvelled, the face that was the source of jealousy, the face that was on the face of so many magazines and posters and adored by millions, if not billions—scrunched up, improper and so fucking lewd that it looked like it belonged in a porno instead of an idols face, and you take pleasure in the fact that your cock is ruining the face of a princess, turning her dissolute and so fucking needy that she was as good as a fan begging her for an autograph. This side of her was reserved for you, and only you—her duality is reserved for your eyes only. 
Her body is slick with sweat, rubbing against your own sweaty torso while her body rolls together with your thrusts. “Fuck—” you’re saying, but it comes out as more of a growl than anything given how hard yur teeth are clenching. Your fingers squeeze tighter around her throat. The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her pussy to clench even tighter around you—and the added tightness brings succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you’re going insane. You probably are at this rate. “This pussy. It’s so fucking good baby.”
Her reply is a strained gasp, but you get the gist of what she wants to say. She wants, so badly, to tell you how good your cock is making her feel, how well it fucks her, how well it fills her and stretches her and how it’s her favourite thing in the whole world. The squelch of your cock filling her pussy is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the smacking of skin against skin as you press more of your weight against her, pushing her a little more into the corner of the counter and a little more over the line of pathetic. She moans in response to your actions, and it’s telling you: fuck. Harder. It’s better when it hurts. 
And you can feel her juices leaking down the back of her thighs, wetting your crotch and making the smack of skin against skin louder than ever, almost as if it was an announcement: I’m being fucked like a good little slut and I love it. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to you,and for clarity, it’s something along the lines of turning you absolutely feral with her moans and the divine tightness of her pussy that makes you want to cum on the spot. Okay,maybe she is cognizant of how crazy she makes you when you fuck her, but you barely have the capacity to think, let alone rationalise wether thai girl in your arms that your chocking and fucking feel smug in knowing that she’s driving you insane. 
Oh and she loves it when you play with her tits. The way you fondle them is almost aggressive. Scratch that—it’s really fucking aggressive. You’re slapping her tits, leaving red marks all over the milky white skin and pinching and twisting the stiff nubs atop her breasts, all while she mewls and cries out in that strained voice that makes you throb even harder inside of her wet walls and makes you grit your teeth like your a dog waiting to chew on a bone. 
“D-Daddy,” she pushes out, past the fingers that close her airways and past her groans and moans and sighs. “Harder.” And your thrusts are starting to cut her off, but she has more to say. When it comes out, each word that she spits out is punctuated by a thrust of cock into her pussy, and it’s the hottest thing you’ll ever hear. 
Fuck.
You thrust deep inside her. 
Me.
Your cock drives itself deep into her, slicking itself with her juices.
Harder.
And if words could linger in the air, hers certainly would. 
You fuck her hard, and fast, and deep—hammering her into the counter, nailing her defenseless pussy with a pace that you would have thought was rough and callous were it not for the fact you knew this was exactly how she wanted it. All she can do is hang on, grasp onto the counter with a knuckle-white grip with her hands as you take your liberties with her body, fucking her as hard as you can, as deeply as she can take it. The cups on the counter shake, the toothbrush inside one of them shaking under the force. It’s loud,  but you hear none of it. You hear only the sharp sighs of pleasure that leave Wonyoung’s lips, and the wet slap slap slap of your crotch as it hammers her cunt again and again and again, your cock drilling her, pounding her, making her yours if you weren’t already doing that.
It takes a little long, but the haze of lust parts for a moment for you to realise that you're getting closer and closer to getting what she wants out of you. While the thought of burying yourself inside of that quivering, pulsing pussy to let it milk every last drop of cum from you is ever so enticing, that small part of you that wants to own her pushes you to fight against the urges. Not that there’s any harm in giving her what she wants, but it’s just that you don’t want to reward her bratty, manipulative tactics. She knew for a fact that she could tie you up and ride you over and over till you were dry—she’d done it before. But instead, she’s chosen to fulfil her needs in a less direct manner, maybe for fun or maybe just because she felt like it. 
“Yes,” Wonyoung hisses, spit flying into the mirror and her palms slipping on the counter. “Just like this Daddy.” And she’s making sure to make eye contact with you through the mirror, letting her eyes do most of the talking. If anyone’s curious, the look she gives you is saying, I’m your good little slut. Fuck me. Use me. Fill me. Please, and it's nothing short of hot and tethering far over the line of lewd. At this point, neither of you are in a state where you're capable of coherent thought, nor are you capable of thinking about anything else except each other’s bodies and the wet, lewd squelching of cock filling Wonyoung’s pussy. It goes on and on and on, a cycle of your hips hammering the back of her legs and your cock spearing deep into her cunt.  She takes it so well, drinking you in hungrily, coiling around your shaft like a snake as if it was begging for you to stay in her forever. The sight is enough to make your balls tingle and your toes curl, and your hand around Wonyoung's throat tightens to the point where the only thing that can leave her lips is a groan as her airflow is reduced. 
She’s tighter, hotter, wetter. Her pussy fits you like a glove, moulding around your cock as it pumps in and out of her at a pace that you had no idea you were capable of. The hand around her neck is nothing but an outlet of pleasure for you, and she’s loving it. “Such a good girl,” you mutter, watching from the mirror as her mouth slacks and opens while she’s being pumped full of cock. “You were made to take Daddy’s cock, weren’t you?”
Her equivalent of a yes is a sharp, strained groan—an amalgamation of phonics and whatever sounds the lack of air flowing to her throat permits her to make. She’s so fucking messy down there, and your cock is sliding in and out of her with ease, aided by her slick juices that coat your shaft and let it disappear and reappear from between her legs with ease. The motion is almost graceful if it weren’t for the fact that it was a sordid one, and you take a moment to admire the way your shaft glistens in the light of the bathroom while you fuck her the way she wants it: rough, hard and tethering over the edge of callous. If it weren’t for the hand around her throat, she’d be making herself hoarse with all the moaning she’d be doing.
And the hand around her throat is bringing her so much pleasure, if the way her pussy squeezes around you when you choke her is any indication. She wasn’t lying when she said she liked being choked. While she didn’t like gagging on your cock, she sure as hell loved it when your fingers clasped around the muscles and made her gasp. She liked the sensation of being deprived of air, be it when she was riding or when she has her kness buried into her shoulders and was being fucked into the bed like a slut. You were always afraid of hurting her, but when she shots you that look, the one that says, come on, you can do better, you know that she’s getting exactly what she wants, just the way she likes it. It was just a matter of how hard you squeeze around her throat before she either cums or passes out, though the latter has rarely happened before the former.
“Daddy!” she chokes, and you know exactly what she’s about to say next. So you release her throat from her grasp, bunch a lock of her hair in your closed fist and you pull back. Her eyes squeeze themselves shut. Her back arches deliciously, her voice now free to finish shat she’s aching to announce. “I’m fucking
”
You never expect her to finish her sentence. Wonyoung’s eyes open, and a gasp leaves her open lips. Her walls, already vice-like, tighten so hard around you that you think you might come there and then. You feel how close she is. 
“Fucking cum for me, Wonyoung. Cum around my cock like a good little slut.”
Wonyoung does as she is told—and the quivering, trembling orgasm she experiences is almost frightening in the way it overwhelms her body, turning her into a wet, hot mess. Her pussy tightens and pulsates, her fingers claw against the marble counter, and her entire lower body shakes violently, as though she had lost control of her nerves and muscles. For a few beautiful seconds she is utterly overwhelmed by the sensations, until finally she slumps forward in your grasp, breathing heavily. 
It's good. It's so good, but it's not quite enough to get you to your finish. Not yet.
(And if anyone’s asking: it’s not that the sex isn’t good. It’s mind blowing, amazing, and whatever word that can be used to describe “fucking incredible”.  She’s hot, so tight and fucking soaked down there. You’re horny, throbbing and on the verge of filling her full of your seed. But you’ve said it before and you’ll say it again—you’re not rewarding bratty manipulation. As tempting as it would have been to simply pound her from behind until you gave her needy pussy the load of semen she so desperately wanted, you knew that there was something even better that you could do.)
You pull out of Wonyoung, your shaft glistening under the hotel light. Her eyes are wide with shock as you withdraw yourself from her body, pulling her away from the counter—but only enough to have her lean back against you and not stand up completely. Her mouth opens to say something, but she's interrupted when you turn her face to you and kiss her. She moans into your mouth, and you swallow it, your tongue slipping into her mouth and massaging her own, lapping at the roof of her mouth as her tongue swirled around your own. You bite her lower lip, and it's not rough, but enough to get her attention. When her eyes flutter open, you whisper, "I'm not finished."
She nods, and you relish the disappointment in her eyes. You turn her around, push down gently on her shoulders. She goes with the motion, and you're not sure if you can ever get over the image of Wonyoung on her knees with her pretty little face staring at you with anticipation. You think about fucking her face, letting your cock thrust into the back of her throat over and over and over till you finally bury yourself inside and cum down her throat, but that would just be a repeat telecast of every other night with her. Spice things up; give her the liberty of creativity with your cock. 
And of course, Wonyoung perfectly understands what has to be done. You step up to her. She parts her lips and takes your cock right into her mouth. Grasping the base of your cock and pumping it with one hand while she gently cups and squeezes your balls with the other, Wonyoung quickly launches into a hard and fast blowjob, taking the top half of your cock in and out of her wet mouth with a rapid pace while her fingers work your shaft in a corkscrew motion, just like she did in the shower. The suction of her mouth is almost lethal, and the audacity she has to look up at you while she takes your cock in and out of her mouth is so exhilarating that it makes you weak in the knees. Your hand finds a clump of her sweaty hair, and you close your fingers around it, holding them in your fist. No, you weren’t going to push her head down onto your cock; you had to give her the space to work on her craft. 
And of course, she exceeds every expectation out there. Your eyes shut involuntarily, your brain unable to handle any sensations beyond the wet, hot cavern of Wonyoung’s mouth sealed tightly around your shaft with tight, soft lips. With the first entry into her mouth her wet tongue is pressed tightly against the underside of your shaft, lathering it with her spit. With each subsequent entry her tongue becomes more adventurous, beginning with quick swipes left and right on your shaft with each entry and ending each exit with a swirl of the tip around the head of your cock. While she tastes herself on your cock, letting her juices mix with saliva, her hands work in perfect concert with her mouth, one joining her lips at your shaft and pumping up and down, a twisting motion to her wrist while her free hand works gently with your dangling balls, fondling them with considerate fingers. She plays with them softly yet hastily, her fingertips working their magic between the sacs with expert attention.
You are content to stand there with your eyes shut, simply enjoying the feel of your cock pumping in and out of her mouth at a fervent pace, but a small part of you knew that you had to see it happening in order to truly believe it was all real—and so with a not insignificant amount of self-control, you force eyes open to watch the spectacle unfolding between your legs. Black locks bob up and down frantically above your cock, doe-like eyes glazed with pure lust staring right up at you as her cheeks hollow and her jaw unhinges even more to accommodate your length. 
It all becomes too much, and it hits you all at once—having her pump your shaft in the shower, eating her out then fucking her—and you quickly find yourself nearing that inevitable peak.
“Fuck, Wony—” is all you manage to say before your orgasm overtakes your world.
Wonyoung releases your cock from her mouth a split second before you erupt, shooting long, thick strands of hot semen all over her pretty little face. Her face glazes over in pleasure and you are all too happy to watch as strand after strand of cum lands on her cheeks, her pretty little nose, and finally her open mouth and jaw. You watch, through half-lidded eyes drunk with pleasure, as the thick streams of cum flow down her face, dripping onto her upper chest and those perfect breasts of hers. Her face is flushed and her mouth open, as though she herself was on the verge of orgasm (she probably was, and she was going to make it your problem as soon as she got your cum off her face).
You want to remember the way she wipes your cum off her face with the back of her hand, how she licks it all up like a cat licking its own paw before moving to clean the stray strands of cum off the tip and sides of your cock. You want to remember how she rises so gracefully even though she was a sweaty mess, and how she gently takes your hand and guides you back into the shower for another clean up.   
And back under warm water, you want to remember how she kisses you, and how she whispers, “next time, I want that big load in my pussy.”
*
“What?”
And it’s hard to meet Wonyoung’s eyes as you set down the papers from the doctor. You can feel her confusion, her frustration, her rage from across the dining table in your apartment. It isn’t pretty. Nothing about this situation is. 
“It’s a neurological disease,” you tell her, all while you’re looking at the MRI that’s in the middle of the table. You’re really just regurgitating what the doctor told you—it’s the only thing you have the capacity to do right now. “They ran their tests. They told me what I suspected. I’m losing my ability to read and write, to understand language. In 2 years—give or take —I won’t be able to express my thoughts. I’ll be spouting gibberish. What people say, what I see — on pages, street signs, everywhere — they’ll all be unintelligible to me.” She’s silent, and it unnerves you in every way possible. You haven’t even gotten to the worst part of it all. “My mental competence will deteriorate. I’ll have to live off a tube cause I’ll forget how to eat and drink. Dementia will follow shortly.”  
Now would be a great time for her to say something, anything to break this silence. But she is silent, unmoving and reticent in her seat from across you. You have no choice but to gulp and deliver, in your personal opinion, the worst part of it all, “By the time I forget how to breathe I
 I would’ve lost all my memories by then.”
She chooses the moment after the last word leaves your mouth to pick up the MRI scan and look at it. 
“So
 Everything we’ve built up till now will just
 Disappear?” she whispers. She sounds hurt, scared and everything in between. You bite your lower lip. 
“Yes.” There’s no point sugarcoating it, it’s inevitable anyway. Face it now, sulk later
 You think that’s the best way to deal with this piece of news. You hope that the matter-of-fact tone of voice that you’ve chosen doesn't betray how frightened you are by the prospect of losing everything you know. “We can’t stop it. It’s in my genes.”
She sets down the scan, and when you look up, you see the tears flowing down her cheeks and it makes you want to cry as well.
She stands up, shoulders her handbag and walks towards the front door. 
“Where are you—” you begin. “I’m going somewhere else to think,” she interjects. 
When she slams the door behind her, you feel like you’ve let her down in so many ways. There’s a burning in your chest that you can’t describe. The first hot tear rolls down your cheek, and you let the rest that well in your eyes flow down without resistance. 
You don’t want to remember what it feels like to be helpless—the emptiness, the rage, the sadness, the confusion is all so overwhelming. But you figure that you’ll have to feel it again at some point down the road. 
Might as well figure out how to cope with it now, when Wonyoung isn't there and you're all alone with your thoughts.
*
When you awaken later that night in your bed in the apartment, it takes you a few moments to determine whether the soft, slim body climbing atop you is real or part of some wonderful dream—but the familiar warmth of your girlfriend, and the soft, pleasant smell of her hair, convinces you that this was all real.
Wonyoung places soft kisses on your neck and jawline, before moving to your mouth and kissing your lips softly. You are still only half awake, but your senses and instincts take over, and you find your mouth welcoming her kiss and returning it with one of your own, your hands moving to either side of her hips and finding, to your surprise, that there was only bare skin there and no clothing.
“Wony
” you begin, as she deepens her kiss, her lips pressing more firmly against yours.
“Shhh,” she answers, “please. I need this. I need you, right now. Please.”
She’s suddenly reappeared after walking out on you, and you have yet to process the slew of emotions that have come your way. Part of you wants to stop her, to talk things out with her so that you could: a) figure out if she was still mad at you and; b) verify that she wasn’t drunk. But the part of you that formed the majority of your conscience knew that she needed comfort as much as you did, and that she needed something to assuage her and make her feel like everything would turn out alright. So you find yourself relaxing underneath her, letting her scent fill your nostrils as her tongue dances with yours.
She straddles you, and your hands begin to run up her naked body, up from her slim thighs to her chest where the ample mounds sat proudly, her nipples erect and stiff. She isn’t wearing any underwear, and your fingers brushing against the slick of her pussy is enough to verify that for you. She’s naked atop of you, kissing you like you just confessed your love to her or like you’re about to go on some mission and never return. It’s not lustful, but it’s full off passion and aims to soothe not stir. 
She breaks the kiss. Her eyes flutter open. In the dark that is pierced by the street lights of the city, you want to remember the way her eyes glimmer and shimmer as she breathes heavily. There’s no alcohol on her breath, and from the way she’s cradling your face, you can infer that she’s not mad at you in the slightest. 
“You okay?” she whispers, and her tone is soft and warm, like that time she spoke in the shower of her hotel about signing that contract with her company so that the two of you could officially start dating. It’s been some time after that, but you still hang on to the way her words made their way to your heart. “I didn’t mean to startle you if I did.”
You respond by nodding, and it’s enough to convey: I’m alright. You brush away the hair that falls in front of her eyes, and you really want to remember how silky smooth her hair feels in your hands. 
“What are you doing?” you ask her, making sure to keep your tone as warm as her own. She blinks, goes silent for a moment, then answers, “I’m making amends.”
She holds your gaze, you hold hers. The staring contest ends when you gently pull her in for another kiss, and you want to remember how she softly moans into your mouth while her thumb, smooth and tender, caresses your cheek.
When the kiss breaks again, her hands snake their way down to your sweats. You assist her in removing your shorts—a very clumsy affair: tangled hands and arms and lots of chuckling. But your cock does finally spring out from your boxers, the ones that have been discarded in the corner of the bed, together with her clothes. When it’s all done, you have the pleasure of witnessing the sight of her slim frame straddling you once more, long legs surrounding you on either side of your thighs while she peppers kisses on your chest. 
“I’m sorry I left you to deal with
 Everything. Alone.”  she begins, “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that
 I’m sorry. I hope you aren’t angry”
And from your lying position, you lift a hand to cup her cheek. “We can talk later.”
She gets the message, but bends down and kisses you nonetheless. You’d probably have trouble falling asleep later in the night, and she’d wake up and you’d have this same conversation again. You’d rather have it later than now, not when the wound is still fresh.
Wonyoung lets a soft smile play on her lips. You are slightly aware of her raising her hips, her right hand finding its way between your bodies to grasp your wet, erect shaft, and line it up with her entrance. She breaks the kiss for the third time that night, searches your eyes for approval to continue with this. Was it make up sex? You didn;t know if it was for sure, but it sure as hell felt like it. What you do no for certain is: you’d like to experience this now, and you want to etch this in your memory for as long as you can before it fades with the rest of your mind. 
You give her the slightest of nods, and you feel the head of your cock press against her wet, tight opening. Slowly, carefully, Wonyoung lowers herself down onto your shaft, your cockhead parting her tight lips to impale her pussy. She gasps loudly as she impales herself fully, and she opens her eyes slightly to match your gaze. You brush stray locks of hair away to reveal her face fully, and you bring her mouth back to yours to kiss her deeply. As your tongues duel, she begins to raise her hips, drawing your shaft out of her body before lowering it once more, and soon she has found a soft, slow rhythm as she rides you, grinding her warm, tight body against yours. 
She raises herself upright and lets her hands rest on top of your chest. You’d like to save that face she makes in a supercut of her other memorable faces: eyes closed, lips slightly parted and the wisp of a smile on her lips as she rocks her hips. From where you lie, you watch as Wonyoung takes you in and out of her body with soft grinding motions, riding you slowly, enjoying every entry and exit of your shaft as it fills her over and over in slow, tender strokes that make her shiver. You watch as your shaft appears for a split second or so before driving back into her, each disappearance accompanied by a soft spike of pleasure. As always, she’s letting moans and sighs and gasps tumble freely from half-parted lips as she takes you in and out of her slowly, rocking her hips with innate grace and elegance. All you do is let your hands rest on her thighs, moaning softly to encourage her as she rides you lovingly, tenderly, a far cry from what you’re used to when it comes down to sex with Jang Wonyoung. 
Through the night, your cock glides in and out of that perfect pussy, elicits moans and gasp and sighs and cute little cusses when you hilt yourself deep inside of her and tug a little at her hair. Her hands were always active, sometimes caressing your chest, sometimes on your jaw, sometimes behind your head as she snaked an arm behind your head to keep you locked where you were just so she could sneak in a kiss. You came in her mouth, her ass, her pussy. She came on your fingers, your cock, your mouth. She cussed a lot, almost passed out once or twice. You cussed a lot two, and you caught her when she almost rolled off the bed (the two of you laughed for a minute about that situation before you ended up spooning on the floor, her leg in the air and your cock pumping in and out of her while she had your back to you and your face in her right hand). 
Bottom line: it was wonderful, wonderful make up sex that ended with both of you sweaty and panting and wanting more from each other but you guys just don’t have that energy to keep going. It was a novelty for both of you, and you wanted to remember just how special she could make you feel, even in the impurest of acts. 
*
The flash of the polaroid camera is almost blinding, but you power through and keep your eyes open. Like a child that’s seeing snow for the first time, Jang Wonyoung watches excitedly as the polaroid emerges from the slot in the camera, and she’s all too eager to grab it and lay it face down on the coffee table in your apartment.
“I thought you’re supposed to shake it?” you ask, watch as she fiddles with the camera for a little bit before she snaps a selfie with her newest purchase. She gives you a look that basically translates to, “uh, are you dumb?” and waits for the next polaroid to emerge from the slot before she launches into her lecture. 
“Shaking the polaroid to make it develop faster is a myth,” the way she sounds so official and everything is so cute. You can’t help but smile a little as she sets the other polaroid down. “It shifts the pigments and blurs the photo, but an idiot like you would need a genius like me to tell that to you.”
The remark is clearly meant to be biting, but it’s nothing short of hilarious to you. “When did you become a camera nerd?”
“Ever since I got this,” she lifts the polaroid camera up and hits you with that you’re on camera smile. “Maybe I should do an ad for this brand. Increase their sales, you know?”
She leaves you to think on that and retrieves the first polaroid she took: a picture of you and her on the couch of your apartment. Not the grandest first photo, but hey, a memory is a memory, and you really are just focusing on cherishing those at the moment. As she leaves the couch to clip the polaroid onto the photo rack (a bunch of metal wires on a metal frame with wooden clips to hold photos) she just set up, you grab your journal next to you and flip it to the page you wrote on a few hours before. With your pen (that you now carry around just about everywhere with your journal), you scribble down a new part of today that you want to remember. It was her idea to journal down everything you wanted to remember. 
The entry goes right under the one about Wonyoung’s new camera.
She looks so happy with that new camera. Bet she’s going to go back to the dorm and show it off to all of her members because she’s a fucking child. I hope that

And you trail off in your writing, What you wanted to say was just on the tip of your tongue just a second ago. Why can’t you remember it? It was literally just in your head a minute ago

No. 
You shut the journal. It makes a soft yet substantial thud as the leather cover slaps against pages. You place your pen in your pocket, set the journal back down on the couch and stand up to walk towards your girlfriend, who is currently adjusting the angle that the wooden clip holds the polaroid at. She senses you walking up to her, steps aside and makes a space for you to watch her struggle. You would offer help, but you know that it removes half the fun for her when you do something for her. 
She fiddles around a little more, makes a couple of grunting sounds under her breath, curses a little, and next thing you know, she exclaims, “tada!” while pointing at the first occupant of the photo rack. You roll your eyes, throw an arm over her shoulder and look at the slightly blurry photo within the white frame. 
“With the camera,” she tells you, her tone soft and warm like
 Like
 Fuck. “I hope that we can help our memories live on. Sounds pretty deep huh?”
You can’t help but chuckle in agreement. You take a moment to stare at the two faces that occupy the space in the polaroid, and you hope to God that they will never, ever look foreign to you. It’s a futile prayer, you know, but a glass-half-full mentality is the best chance you have at not spiralling out of control. 
Wonyoung lays her head on your shoulder, silent and all sentimental as she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. She lets out a shuddering sigh, and you know that she’s trying not to cry, cause in this situation she’s the one that will end up hurt at the end of it all. You’ll forget the pain of forgetting; she’ll remember the pain of being forgotten. It sucks, but it’s just the way it is. You hug her, hold her close and stroke her hair. You don’t want to forget what she means to you, what you mean to her.
How many more polaroids left till it all ceases to matter?
____________________
Hello! Hope you guys enjoyed this fic. I'm a bit rusty so this one might be a bit funny, but hopefully the style of storytelling I chose didn't fuck you up too bad. Non-linear storytelling will be the death of me. Also: I kinda didn't edit this one too much. My bad hehe.
This was really more of a PSA to cherish the ones you hold close to you, because you never know when they will just disappear. Love the people close to you, cherish them forever.
~Lots of love Nichuuu
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liviawildrose · 7 months ago
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read this to transform your life
hey guys! today, we’re diving into something that can literally transform the next 20 years of your life. why? because pluto has officially entered aquarius, and let me tell you, this is huge. if you’ve got aquarius anywhere in your birth chart like i do, you’re probably already feeling that intense energy—the urge to level up, get things done, and completely reinvent yourself. i mean, look at me: this is my second vlog today and i’ve been non-stop posting since yesterday. it’s like this cosmic shift has supercharged me, and i know it can do the same for you.
but don’t worry, even if you’re not an aquarius, this energy is hitting everyone in some way. so whether you’re ready for it or not, pluto in aquarius is here, and it’s bringing transformation on a massive scale. now, this blog is part of my series called the “game of life”, but since this pluto shift is so major, i’ve decided to make this a crossover between the two themes. we’re going to talk about how to actually use this energy to change your life, level up, and play the long game to completely transform the next 20 years and beyond. so, if you’re ready to tap into this cosmic power and take control of your future, follow along because this blog might just change your life.
just before we dive in, i want you guys to check out a blog i posted a couple of weeks ago—it’s all about the first steps to getting your shit together. it’s a great starting point for understanding how to lay the groundwork for your transformation journey. if you haven’t seen it yet, head over to blog “first steps” and give it a read. trust me, it’ll help you get a solid foundation before you dive into the next level of this process.
avatar
okay, now that you’ve got your basics down from the previous blog, let me introduce you to the game of life. this is where things get fun. first, we’re going to focus on creating your avatar. now, if you’ve read that earlier blog, you’ll remember i talked about building an alter ego. for example, mine is called livia wildrose. she’s my vision of absolute perfection the version of me i aspire to be. this is your chance to go wild. grab a journal and start designing your alter ego and how her life is. i don’t care how crazy, bold, or unrealistic it might seem this is your imagery of perfection. who is she? how does she look? how does she act? what does her life look like? write it all down. get creative draw her, make a mood board, whatever feels right. this is your blueprint. now, here’s the twist: in the game of life, you are the avatar. your current self, with all your flaws and strengths, is the player in this game. your mission? to become your alter ego. think of it like this: your avatar (you) might not have everything your alter ego has right now. maybe she’s more confident, more successful, smarter, richer, or better-looking. but that’s okay because she represents your end goal. every step you take toward embodying her, every choice that aligns you closer to her energy, earns you points in the game of life. the idea is to bridge the gap between who you are now (your avatar) and who you want to be (your alter ego). every time you make progress whether it’s a mindset shift, a small win, or a big milestone you’re leveling up. this is how you win the game.
for example, let’s say your alter ego is this ultra-rich, world-famous singer, idol, and total icon. she’s confident, magnetic, and lives her dream life effortlessly. that’s your end goal that’s your alter ego. now, your job is to build her. create her personality, her habits, her lifestyle, her goals, and most importantly, her mindset. think about it what kind of mindset does she have? does she radiate confidence? does she have unshakable discipline? does she take no for an answer, or does she turn every rejection into motivation? for me, my alter ego, livia wildrose, has a queen-like, goddess-like mindset. that means every single brick life throws at me, i’m gonna build a castle out of it. scratch that i’m gonna build a shrine. nothing breaks me; i only get stronger, wiser, and better. that’s how livia wildrose operates, and that’s what drives me every single day.
imagine you’re playing a game where you have to build a village from scratch. when you start, you don’t just dive in blindly—you go around and observe how other players have built their villages. you notice their strengths, but also their flaws. maybe someone’s village is too cluttered, or their defenses are weak, or their farms are in the wrong spots. you take mental notes: ‘okay, that’s not my vibe. i’m not gonna do that.’ this also brings me to the point that learn from other peoples mistake too. my friend right now is going through a very tough break up. and the guy is being a total asshole. and the more she talk about the relationship to me how it was, and we try to get the cues like “oh we could’ve realised back then when he said this particular thing” that he is not the one. (the fact he was a total sexist asshole) i realised that when i get into a relationship, and if i see my future boyfriend having these traits, i will leave. why? because I learnt from her mistakes of letting things slide, and not noticing the minor red flags that later became worse.
(back to the topic) then, you create an image of your ideal village in your head. you don’t copy anyone, but you take inspiration. you think, ‘this is my aesthetic, this is how i want my village to function.’ you make a mental note of all the details where the farms will go, where the population will live, how everything will flow. and then you start building, step by step, upgrading, improving, and making decisions based on the vision you created. now apply that same concept to your life. create an ideal version of yourself (alter ego) in your head. imagine your ideal life, your ideal personality, your dream self. think about who she is, how she thinks, how she acts, what her daily habits are. don’t just copy someone else’s life take inspiration. maybe you admire someone’s confidence but not their style, or their work ethic but not their priorities. fine. make mental notes and adjust it to fit your vibe. every time you make a decision or work to improve yourself (your current avatar), use that ideal version of yourself as a guide. ask yourself, ‘what would she do? how would she handle this? what choice aligns me closer to her?’ take inspiration from her and let her energy fuel every upgrade you make. step by step, you’ll start building a life that’s completely aligned with the vision you’ve dreamed of. for example in pubg. the end goal is to become a conqueror so what you do every single time when you play that game is make sure that you’re good with your teammates, you get the most kills, you win every single match, because that is what will bring you to your end goal.
the bars of life
1. health bar
health is the foundation, the core, the absolute main bar. without health, nothing else matters. it’s like playing a survival game if your health is low, you’re dead in the water, right? you can’t progress, you can’t fight, you can’t level up. every single step in your journey starts with taking care of your body and mind. health is everything. make sure you’re eating right, sleeping enough, working out, and keeping your mind in a positive, stable place. the healthier you are, the more you’ll be able to conquer in all aspects of life. keep this bar maxed out, or you won’t even have the energy to fight for your dreams.
2. physical bar
now, let’s talk about the physical bar. this is all about how your body looks and feels. how’s your physique? toned? fit? are you putting in the work to make sure your body is in shape, or are you letting it slide? it’s not just about the gym though—it’s about how you present yourself. do your clothes flatter your body type? are you dressing in a way that highlights your best features? are your nails done, your hair styled, your makeup light but on point? when you walk into a room, does your physical presence demand attention and admiration? this is about taking pride in your appearance and making sure your physicality aligns with the highest version of yourself. everything from your posture to the way you dress, this is how people will notice you. own it.
3. mental bar
the mental bar is all about your mindset, emotional health, and mental well-being. how do you show up in the world every day? what is your internal dialogue like? are you a powerhouse of positivity and productivity, or are you letting negative thoughts control you? this bar is about building a mindset that propels you forward, no matter what life throws at you. like i always say, every single brick life throws at me, i will build a castle out of it—or a shrine. i don’t care what happens, it’s all fuel for my fire. this is the mental toughness you need to develop to grow.
if you’re facing challenges—whether it’s dealing with stress, anxiety, or depression—take care of your mental health. if you need a therapist, get one. if journaling helps you unpack emotions and thoughts, make it a habit. every step you take to improve your mental health is a step toward leveling up your life. every time you choose a positive, productive mindset, you’re not just surviving—you’re thriving. strengthen this bar, and everything else in life becomes more manageable.
your mental bar is not just about surviving the chaos—it’s about learning to navigate it with grace, strength, and an unbreakable belief in your ability to create your dream life.
4. spiritual bar
the spiritual bar is your path to alignment with yourself and the universe. this is where you connect with your higher self, your energy, and your beliefs. spirituality isn’t just about religion—though it can be if that’s part of your journey. it’s about meditating, doing yoga (especially Kundalini, like i mentioned), and tuning into the deepest parts of yourself. when you start aligning your chakras and balancing your energies, you’re strengthening this bar. it’s about connecting to something greater than yourself—whether that’s through rituals, prayer, or mindfulness practices. this is the bar that ensures your spirit is nurtured, your energy is clean, and your soul is grounded. if you’re in tune with yourself and aligned with your truth, you can face anything the world throws at you.
5. financial bar
now, let’s talk about the financial bar. this is where you track your wealth, your earning capacity, and how financially empowered you are. how’s your financial situation? are you getting paid what you’re worth? are you bringing in new streams of income? every single time you land a promotion, secure a new deal, or create another source of income, this bar rises. even small wins matter—getting that side hustle going, saving a little extra this month, investing in yourself. all these things count. this bar is about actively working toward your financial freedom and success. if you’re serious about leveling up in life, this bar has to be taken seriously. wealth isn’t just about money—it’s about abundance in every area of your life. when you strengthen this bar, you give yourself the power to live the life you want
6. career bar
the career bar is all about progression, ambition, and success in your professional life. every time you take a step forward—whether it’s landing a promotion, launching a side hustle, or expanding your business—it’s a win for your career bar. it’s not just about the outcome, but about the process too. when you learn a new skill to level up in your field, or when you push yourself to take on more responsibility, this bar grows. every single action you take to further your career—no matter how small—contributes to building the empire you want. it’s about building something that lasts and ensuring that your career serves as the foundation for the life you envision.
7. social bar
the social bar is about how you connect and interact with others. it includes your relationships with family, friends, lovers, and colleagues, as well as your social media presence. every time you make a meaningful connection, whether it’s through a new friendship or strengthening bonds with existing relationships, your social bar grows. it also covers your social media footprint—every time you post something, earn followers, or engage with your audience, you’re building your social presence. the way you show up in the world, the vibe you put out, and how others perceive you are all part of this bar. what’s important is that you’re intentional about your social connections. it’s not just about quantity, but quality. how do you carry yourself? how do people feel around you? remember, you can always adjust the way you’re perceived by adjusting how you act. we’ll dive deeper into how you can shift your social presence to your advantage later on.
8. legacy bar
the legacy bar is about the impact you leave behind and how you’re remembered. while you might not need to focus on this too much at 17 (like me too), it’s still something that will guide your actions as you grow older. your legacy is like the final level of your life game—it’s the impression you leave on others, the tangible and intangible things you pass on to the next generation. think about it like this: your legacy could be how generous you were. maybe you donate to charities, help the less fortunate, or fund scholarships. maybe you leave behind a family with strong values, or set up a business that supports others and creates opportunities. or even, it’s the homes you buy and the wealth you build that your kids will inherit. that’s a form of legacy too—creating something that endures, that your children or loved ones can benefit from long after you’re gone.
you want to make sure you’re giving back—whether it’s in terms of charity, helping your community, or creating something that continues to benefit people beyond your time here. it’s about living with intention, creating something greater than yourself, and making sure that when people look back, they say, “wow, she did something good.” when I think of my legacy, I want to be known for making an impact on my country, helping its economy grow, and providing jobs. so, always think about the ripple effect your actions will have not just on yourself but on the world around you, long after you’re gone.
9. environmental bar
okay, so let’s talk about your environmental bar. this is pretty much everything around you: where you live, who you hang out with, and what you’re consuming—whether it’s people, media, or food. your environment shapes you more than you think. if you live in clutter, your brain gets cluttered. if you’re surrounded by negative energy or toxic people, guess what? that negativity starts rubbing off on you. toxicity? it’s contagious. trust me. this is why i always say: your environment is EVERYTHING. let’s say you’re stuck in a place where people are draining your energy, or your room looks like a hurricane hit it—what’s happening? your life starts feeling chaotic. but if you clean up your space, set boundaries with toxic people, and start surrounding yourself with supportive, positive vibes, you’ll see that your life follows suit. if you’re surrounded by success-driven people, guess what happens? you start moving differently too.
for example, i know my current living situation is toxic. but, once i move out, that’s going to be my environmental grace. i’ll finally have the space to thrive, away from negative energy. maybe for you, it’s as simple as clearing your workspace or unfollowing people on social media who bring you down. the key is that you’re actively creating a good environment for your growth. declutter, move people who don’t vibe with you, and make sure everything you interact with is aligned with your goals.
10. fun and recreation bar
listen, life isn’t just about hustling and grinding, okay? it’s also about having fun. and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. people always forget that joy and peace are important parts of growth. hobbies, fun experiences, and doing things that bring you relaxation and joy are just as vital as your career or health bar. sure, you might not make money from every hobby, but if it brings you peace or helps you unwind, then it’s worth it.
like me, i might not be making millions off of drawing, but damn, it’s relaxing. it’s something that i look back on and feel proud of. the point is, don’t skip out on fun. go out with friends, explore new things, travel, dance, create. don’t just work to live—live to enjoy it. make time for meaningful parties, exploring new places, or just learning something new for fun. trust me, it will make you feel whole. it’s the only life we’ve got, so might as well enjoy it. while also being productive (im sorry had to add this 😭)
11. intelligence bar
okay, this one should be obvious, but let me make it clear: your intelligence bar should always be leveling up. this is the bar for everything you do to expand your mind, whether it’s learning a new skill, reading a book, acing a test, or just getting smarter from life lessons. it’s not just about school or formal education; it’s about constantly seeking knowledge. every time you learn something new—whether it’s about physics, psychology, or how to make the best goddamn smoothie—your intelligence bar grows.
never stop learning. school isn’t the only place for growth. you’re an adult now—take control of your learning. buy books, watch educational videos, take courses that interest you, and dive into everything that can help you grow intellectually. intelligence doesn’t stop when you leave school, it grows with you, forever. always be leveling up your mind.
watch her video to get more info on this topic (she is MOTHER) literally.
youtube
youtube
youtube
cheat codes in the game of life
read this blog by me first
life is full of cheat codes if you know where to look. one of the easiest ways to hack your life and manifest your desires is by using subliminals, grabovoi codes, eft tapping and even customizing your ChatGPT. these tools are like magic spells, designed to align your subconscious mind with your goals. for example, grabovoi codes are just numbers, but when you write and repeat them, they can bring about extraordinary shifts in your life. subliminals work and eft tapping the same way reprogramming your mind while you go about your day. and with ChatGPT, you have a personal assistant that can help you navigate any life situation, offering advice and insight whenever you need it. these are your personal life hacks use them to transform your reality with ease.
okay, let’s dive even deeper into these cheat codes, because once you start using them, you’ll realize how easy it is to shape the world around you. let’s talk about altering your social image—this is like an advanced life hack that many people, especially celebrities, are already using, but they’re not telling you how. you know how celebrities act on social media, right? that perfectly curated, almost “too good to be true” persona? the thing is, that’s not really them. most of them aren’t as perfect as they look in front of the camera, and they sure as hell don’t act the same behind the scenes. think about the people who might’ve bullied you in the past. they might have treated you like crap, but when they’re in front of others? angels. they put on this sweet, charming persona to get what they want. it’s all about duality—using different faces to your advantage. so why not do the same?
you can reinvent the way people see you. perception is everything. for example, let’s say you want to be perceived like a star, like an icon. one of the biggest secrets to this is creating a unique persona—something that screams you, but is captivating enough to make others want to be around you. think about how a lot of idols have such a distinctive style or energy. that is the cheat code. they don’t just wear the coolest clothes, they embody a vibe, an energy that makes them stand out in a crowd. so, how do you do it? first, know what you want. if you want to be that calm, collected, alluring figure who commands attention without even trying, start by adopting a few things that you know fit that style. if you want that dark, sultry energy, you need to own it—the way you talk, walk, dress, and even the way you hold yourself should exude confidence.
take someone like Dakota Johnson she has this quiet-chaotic energy about her, right? she speaks slowly, her words dripping with this almost sultry vibe. she doesn’t try too hard. it’s not about being overly energetic or trying to impress; it’s about confidence, calmness, and an air of mystery. she can make something as simple as a joke feel funny and seductive because of the way she says it. that’s the magic. it’s not about being loud or brash to get attention, it’s about learning how to carry yourself in a way that leaves people wanting more.
here’s the trick you don’t need to be a different person; you just need to refine your vibe. create a version of yourself that’s like an upgraded avatar. and then, simply start to live like them. how would your alter ego talk? would they speak with more authority? would they be more laid back, or would they be mysterious? do they have a sultry, slow tone when they speak? model yourself after that, and it’ll become second nature. this is where the pluto in aquarius energy comes in if you’re an aquarius (or have aquarius placements), this is your moment. you have the power to reinvent yourself in ways that you never thought possible. take this time to shift your self-perception and how the world perceives you. you can break out of old habits, behaviors, and expectations that others might have of you. this is your chance to become the best version of you, the version that’s unstoppable.
how do you get started?
1. talk like her: figure out how your alter ego would speak. take note of the cadence, the tone, and the vibe they exude. do they talk slower? more deliberately? maybe they joke with a certain confidence that makes everyone laugh, but also feel intrigued. learn to replicate that tone.
2. dress the part: style matters. you can’t be a fashion icon if you’re always dressing like a potato sack. find a style that feels unique to you, but also gives off that vibe you want—whether it’s sleek, bold, or soft. make sure your clothing complements the persona you want to show the world.
3. be unpredictable: people love mystery. don’t always let them in on everything. make them wonder about you. embrace the chaotic quietness—be the person who seems calm, but you always have something up your sleeve. keep them intrigued.
4. embrace the duality: you can be whoever you want to be. show one side to certain people, and another side to others. be strategic about how you present yourself in different scenarios. this is how you gain control of your social image.
5. confidence is key: once you start showing up as this new version of yourself, your confidence will shoot through the roof. people pick up on energy. if you believe in the persona you’re creating, others will too. and that’s how you start changing how people perceive you.
the beauty of this is, you’re not just faking it. you’re becoming it. you’re tapping into a version of yourself that’s always been there, just waiting for the right moment to step into the spotlight. the more you practice this, the more natural it becomes. “fake it till you make”
so, here’s the game plan: figure out your alter ego, start speaking like them, acting like them, dressing like them, and above all, own it. no one can compete with a version of you who’s fully aligned with your highest self. this is the cheat code to creating your dream life and stepping into the role you were always meant to play. use mindmovie, vision board, manifestation books to keep yourself aligned with your desires and goals
yeah, seriously, take this game of life really seriously. it’s not just about coasting through, it’s about making moves that align with your goals and dreams. your environment plays a huge part in that—where you live, who you’re around, and what opportunities are available. if you’re in a place that doesn’t nurture your dreams or support your growth, it might be time to think about moving. i’m in the same boat—i know the dreams i have won’t be fully supported where i’m at, so i’m already planning my next moves. but remember, everything is strategic. you have to play to win, baby girl. don’t settle for anything less than the life you deserve. make the changes, take the risks, and keep leveling up.
life’s like a game, and there are plenty of players trying to win, but how do you outsmart the competition? it’s not just about luck—yeah, that plays a part, but it’s also about skill, strategy, and having the right people around you. you can’t level up on your own, and just like in any game, teamwork makes all the difference. think of it this way: the kings and rulers in history didn’t get where they were alone; they knew how important it was to have the right team by their side. whether it’s friends, mentors, or business partners, you need good people who can support, challenge, and push you forward. surround yourself with those who elevate you, not drain you. build a strong, skilled, and loyal team because with the right crew, you’ll always be ahead of the game. just like the environment you choose—quality food, media, and surroundings—your team matters too.
notations
life is like a mix of different games, okay? think of it like the Sims where you have the ultimate free will. you can literally do whatever you want, and it’s up to you how far you take it. want to be a singer? start posting your singing videos everywhere—Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, and even Twitter. manifest it, use subliminals, grabovoi codes, EFT tapping, and let ChatGPT help you figure out the algorithm and best ways to grow. life gives you all the tools, so use them to build your dream life.
but life isn’t just the Sims, it’s also like Chess. you have to be strategic about when and how you move. be nice but not naive, be a bitch sometimes too period. don’t throw out your best pieces too soon keep things lowkey and make others underestimate you. right now, I’m not the top student in my class, but I’m playing the long game. I’ll show people my pawns first—small, safe moves. later, when it’s the right time, I’ll pull out the knight or queen to checkmate the competition. keep people guessing. be mysterious. don’t tell anyone what you’re planning until it’s already in motion. keep your moves quiet, let them think you’re just playing small, and when the time comes—boom, you’ll show them exactly what you’re capable of.
this is where your team really comes into play. think of it like playing PUBG—if your team sucks, you suck. you can’t lead a squad full of lazy players and expect to win. it’s like trying to win a game while everyone else is just chilling. that’s why you have to be super selective with who you let into your inner circle. the people you’re building your success with need to be on the same level as you, otherwise, you’ll just drag each other down.
i’ve mentioned this before i literally asked a tarot reader to read the people around me, and she pointed out which friends weren’t good for me. guess what? those people turned out to be exactly as she said. so, don’t ignore your gut feelings. these are the people who will be there when you make it big, so make sure they’re the right ones. remember, in life, you don’t often get to choose your teammates, so be super careful who you let in. if you’re young, like 17 or 18, this is the time to build those lifelong friendships. trust me, pick wisely, because they’ll either help you level up or hold you back.
if i were to start a new life from today, this would have been the blog post that would have helped me reach that level. so, thank you so much for reading it through and through, and i hope you like it. also, i’m gonna pin this blog, and from now onwards, every single blog that you’ll see on my channel, on my account, will be somewhat similar to this. i’ll be using this blog as a centerpiece in future posts, building on it and referencing it. so stay tuned, because there’s a lot more to come, and this is just the beginning of the journey. and i’m gonna be doing all these again with you guys too. :)
also, happy 20 years of success as pluto returns to aquarius. love you guys.
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iateyourparents · 1 year ago
Note
hello! could you write johnnie guilbert fluff? maybe a scenario where him and fem!reader are spending a day together (filming a video, doing random stuff) just being two people in love and jake and tara tease them and call them a married couple
deaf, mute and blind | j.g.
pairing: johnnie guilbert x fem!reader
summary: you, johnnie and jake are recording a new challenge video.
warnings: use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english isn’t my first language)
an: hi, thank you <33 hope you like it!
pictures are from pinterest :)
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“Hi guys, it’s me, Tara, and today I’m here with Jake, y/n and Johnnie.” Tara introduced you and you all waved to the camera.
“Hi!” you greeted her viewers.
“Today I’m gonna torture my guests
 No, but I wish.” she pouted and you all laughed “Today, my guests will be playing into deaf, mute and blind but
they will have many challenges and quests to do throughout the day. But they main goal is to do shopping and bake me cookies! Any words guys?”
“I hope I get deaf, cause I don’t think I can go much longer with them talking.” you rolled your eyes looking at Jake and your boyfriend.
“Hey!” Johnnie gasped pretending to be offended, placing hand on his chest “That hurt love.”
You only rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that was forcing its way onto your face.
“Alright, so now they will draw sticks and get to know what senses will be taken from them!” Tara showed her viewers three sticks and then she turned to you “Ladies first.”
You took the one in the middle and immediately looked at written words.
“Yeah! I’m deaf today!” You did a little winning dance. Next one choosing stick was Johnnie and he got mute.
“Oh, so I will be blind.” Jake stated “That’s good actually, at least I don’t have to look at your ugly faces.” he smirked and you laughed.
Tara handed you all your things - blindfold for Jake, duck tape for Johnnie and earphones for you.
“Let me also add, that the person who won’t do the most of their mini challenges, has to take a cold shower on the street!” Tara smiled mischievously.
“Is this enough to charge her with domestic abuse?” Jake asked kind of scared.
When everyone was ready Tara started talking to the camera and you could only guess she was explaining to people what you gonna do and not long later Johnnie took your hand to let you know you were going out. You both helped blindfolded Jake to the car and Tara drove you to the nearest store.
She turned on the camera and pointed it at you and Johnnie. You didn’t see anyone talking so you decided to speak “I think Tara already told you guys but we’re making cookies so now we have to find all of the needed ingredients.” you informed and Tara pointed the camera to Johnnie who was gesturing towards some alley. He took your hand and started dragging you there with Tara going behind you but you suddenly stopped, remembering something.
You quickly turned around and jogged to Jake to walk him to Johnnie and Tara. He said something that made Tara laugh and Johnnie’s arms shudder in a silent laugh.
You really started to regret wanting to be deaf one, because not hearing anything yet seeing it, made you frustrated. Also, not hearing Johnnie made you kinda sad. But atleast you listened to your favorite songs.
You all went to grocery alley where Jake gave you his phone so you and Johnnie could find all ingredients for cookies.
Tara was pointing the camera on you all the time and you decided to speak from time to time in case she and Jake weren’t saying anything.
“So we will be doing chocolate chip cookies. Or rather we will be trying to instruct Jake to do it without hurting himself or poisoning us.” you felt a light push on your shoulder and you laughed seeing how Jake was struggling with trying to not miss your form while hitting.
Johnnie swatted Jake’s hand when he tried to hit your shoulder again and side hugged you while looking for flour.
“Johnnie, we need flour for cakes, this one is for bread.” you told him and he gave you a ‘what the hell’ face and you knew that if he could talk and you hear, he would be asking about the difference.
“Alright, I think we got everything.” you stated when you found everything and you all went to cashier’s stands where everyone was looking at you like at idiots, but that wasn’t anything new with Johnnie and Jake.
Tara quickly paid when it was yours turn and you and Johnnie walked Jake to the car.
When you were at home you quickly started to prepare kitchen for your baking.
Suddenly, you felt someone tugging gently at your arm and you saw Johnnie pointing ahead of you. You saw Tara pointing the camera at you all and you took it as a clue to start talking.
“Alright, so now we will be trying to instruct Jake how to make cookie dough, wish us luck!” you smiled sarcastically.
You somehow were cooperating well, Johnnie was showing you the recipe and you were reading it for Jake who then with your and yours boyfriend help were making most of the work.
When cookies were in the oven you didn’t have anything better to do so you sat on the floor in front of the oven and you were just looking at the cookies.
Some time later Johnnie joined you, sitting next to you and placing his head on your shoulder. You hugged him into your side and he gladly snuggled into you, kissing your shoulder.
You sat there for a few minutes, when Tara came to you with a camera and some bowl and told something to Johnnie and then showed you her phone, where she wrote in the notes that now you will be doing random challenges before you could take the cookies out from the oven. It would decide who is the loser of the video.
You all stood in the living room and Tara came to you with the bowl and you took one piece of paper.
“I’ve got ‘activity without your sense’” you read it for them and viewers out loud and then showed the piece of paper to the camera.
Moment later Tara gave you another paper, which turned out to be an instruction what your activity was.
“So I have to call a random contact and try to have normal conversation with that person. That will be hard.” you sighed “Can Johnnie and Jake help me? Like by gesturing?” You looked at Tara and she only nodded.
You looked at the camera and smiled “I’m actually kinda scared that they will gesturing wrong things and I will make a fool of myself.” you laughed and you could see Tara snorting.
Your challenges were done, it wasn’t that bad or at least you were hoping so.
Then you took the cookies out of the oven and tried them when they weren’t hot. They were really good.
“Teamwork makes a dream work, i guess.” you smiled at the camera.
Then you could finally take off the earphones and you were never as grateful for hearing Jake and Johnnie as now.
“God, it’s so good to hear people again. I missed your voice.” you told Johnnie who smiled widely at you and kissed your cheek.
“I’m glad to see again, but I’m scared of how many bruises I’ve got today.” Jake laughed while still trying to get use to the light in the room.
“Alright guys, they made it.” Tara smiled at the camera “I can’t with how cute y/n and Johnnie were today. Literally goals. You were like and old married couple.” she giggled and you smiled.
“So, who’s the loser?” Jake asked after few minutes.
“You Jake.” You laughed “You didn’t do any of your challenges correctly.”
“That’s true.” Tara smirked “You will do your punishment later.”
You stopped recording for some time so Tara could get all of the needed things for Jake’s punishment, so you and Johnnie went to sit on the couch while hugging.
“I really missed your voice today.” you admitted again quietly.
“And I missed talking to you.” he smiled “And kissing you.” he kissed you.
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achrams · 14 days ago
Text
𝐆𝐹𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐚 𝐧𝐹𝐰~
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đ’đźđŠđŠđšđ«đČ: Thinking this strange robotic man was weird, you decided to ignore him until he had to catch you. Literally.
𝐂𝐰: Bondage, power bottom reader, Boothill's way of cursing, oil? as cum, creampie.
Getting money is rough. Nowadays that may be the norm everywhere yet it feels like living in the middle of nowhere has made it even more difficult than originally anticipated. Moving away and going to live on your own, to create your career, had been the best choice you’d ever made..had money not become an issue.
Let’s get one thing straight, it’s not like you were poor and struggling to get by. Quite the opposite actually, you were well known and praised by the people who lived nearby. The main issue was that your choice of income was growing old. Out of fashion. Forgotten. You had to work day and night to perfect your skills, to make each show unforgettable, to leave a deep impression. All in hopes of drawing more eyes, more people and therefore more money.
Bull riding. That’s what you had been interested in ever since you were barely a lad. Seeing shows display strong, fierce and, in your opinion, fashionable cowboys had molded your interests rather firmly. No matter what your parents threw before you, those innocent eyes had locked onto one thing and one thing only. And that was rodeo work. It’s not even that your parents could be cross, you were good. Eerily so. After your first ride on a horse a few instructors had shown incredible interest as well as enthusiasm to latch onto this natural talent. Wishing to mold you into the perfect face for the industry.
Thus began the rigorous training, which you, quite frankly, enjoyed a lot as opposed to your fellow training buddies. While others your age were bossy and picky, preferring to stay home playing around, you were happier than ever when you could feel the wind comb through your hair and experience the thrill of maneuvering animals that were wilder than an old guy on crack. Each day the smiles you wore grew brighter and each ride finished got you already excited for the next one.
Soon enough you were old and experienced enough to take up bull riding. The very same thing that had sparked this everlasting interest. That might have been the one day where tears of happiness broke through the determination which had been pushing you forward. From then on you gained popularity with each show you did. Crazy core strength held you up and hands of steel kept you steady. It would have been a ‘never before seen celebrity’ story where the culture of bull riding not scarce.
That brings us to today. You stood before your mirror, gaze intense and the thrive to keep going stronger than ever. Today was the day, the day you swore you'd put on such a show for the public that it would save this sport. It might not have been your goal from the start but as of recently it might as well have been. “They'll love this for sure. I'm confident.” You said with a smirk, flashing yourself some fingerguns before fixing the personalised hat on your head.
The whole town had been bustling and squirming in their seats when you, the renowned and nearly perfect rider, had given hints about attempting something so unbelievable that it had brought in people from large cities all around. Everyone everywhere wanted to see you win. To feel the adrenaline and taste the tension in the air when you stepped foot onto the battle ground. A battle between wild strength and human determination that was familiar to the audience and personal to you.
The years of hard work, late nights on simulated bull thrashing and workouts to keep you in top shape had all come down to this singular moment. Music blared and people cheered. “This is it. I can do it.” You breathed out as you got stationed on your bull. In and out, this was it. 8 seconds of pure strength both mentally and physically. As soon as the horn blew, gates opened and you were kicked to the arena, the plan began. Some may call it stupid, some may call it a death trap but you were determined.
One hand up, tipping your hat, before you suddenly let go of your rope to stand up on the bull’s back for a few kicks. Settling down and immediately gaining back control, waving with the free hand as if this was your easiest ride yet. A last second hands free thrash from the bull and you jumped off into safety while the irritated bull was calmed down.
The crowd cheered, screamed and celebrated on your behalf. You had done it. Pulled off something that was so dangerous that not even other professionals would dare to attempt it. No one had doubted the fact you’d get nearly perfect scores, since that’s what you usually bagged but to hear the judges announce ‘103.7 points’ was mental not just to you but everyone who was watching. It made you scream of happiness, almost throwing your hat to the ground as you cheered. Adrenaline rushing through you, doubling with each smiling face you saw. For a split moment your eyes locked with a mysterious grey pair, that was focused on you with hawk-like attention, before you got guided out.
You broke the score. 103.7 out of 100 is something that not many would attempt let alone achieve. You were the legend, the myth, the most well known bull rider there was. Heart pounding as you walked through the people, managers and eager fans wanting a speck of your eyes on them. The same could be said about the grey eyes following your every move, silently, patiently. The evening had been packed with one interview after another, all desperate to hear why you had done this, how you managed it and what could people expect next.
After the medals were distributed, rewards received and most interviews had been taken care of, you sighed in relief. Eyes from all over the country were now focused on you, on the hobby you wished got more recognition. It made your heart happier than a first love ever could. Turning around you walked back towards your quarters, after all the next show must live up to the expectations people had set by now. Boots clanking with each step you took down the dry mud roads. Mind already reeling with stunts you had to perfect if you wanted to implement them into your future routines.
“Excuse me.” The words dragged you out of your thoughts, making you turn around. Half expecting a buckle bunny to flutter her eyelashes at you, instead you were face to face with a...cowboy? Well he certainly looked the part. “Yeah?” You said back, tipping your hat as a greeting while silently assessing this intriguing stranger. Seems like he wasn’t from around these parts, though he could very well fit in if he lost the whole half-robot look. Not that it was bad, just an odd ‘choice’.
“I saw ya show. Impressive.” The stranger spoke and then leaned closer to whisper, “Ya ain’t seen a man about this tall. Gold tooth and hiding his face, have ya?” The sudden interrogation made you raise an eyebrow for a moment before scanning through your memories. “I don’t think so. Why do you ask?” Your words an octave lower as the tension grew between the two of you, arms crossed over your chest while glaring at this suspicious man. He seemed to sense the distrust, hoping to keep the initial bridges intact he did some damage control despite his preferences to keep his identity a secret.
“No need to get defensive. The name’s Boothill, I’m a galaxy ranger. The guy I’m after was seen near here.” He introduced with an open arm, expecting you to shake it and work as an ally for the time being since your line of job had a lot more connections with locals, which in turn would benefit Boothill to finish his job faster. “A galaxy ranger. Yeah right.” You said back, not believing whatever this man was telling you, refusing to shake hands. He was odd, acting like a police officer while claiming to..what...travel the galaxy? A comedian would be a better fit title for him.
“I don’t know what you’re after but rid yourself of the lulus before mingling with my locals.” You said sternly and turned around on your heel to protect your peace. There was no way you would trust this person who looked like he was one tick away from opening fire. It wouldn’t do you any good to become buddy-buddy with the insane guy who claimed to ride ponies into the sunset, on a quest to find some man you’re not even sure you’d ever seen. You could hear subtle grumbling and indecisive steps behind you but when Boothill had finally decided to call out for you once more you were already on the other side of the street, nearly home. 
“Ah darn it. Tomorrow then.” Boothill said while returning to his own hotel room for the night. This mission wasn’t supposed to be this difficult but it seems like with no help from locals, which in his case was you, it was bound to draw out into a comically long trip. Hence the following week or so, this half robot has been on your tail. It was barely noticeable at first but then it grew pathetically desperate. He needed your help and fast, there was no way he could get his hands on his target otherwise. 
Day after day you avoided him like the plague itself. Pretending you were busy, talking with others, in a rush or blatantly ignoring him, yeah you used every trick in the book to prevent yourself from having to partner up with Boothill on some mission that could be mistaken as a feverdream. Who else would want to become partners with a half robot ranger that apparently has been to space? Definitely not you.
---
On one particular night where you were training late in one of the simulation rooms for bull riders, you failed to notice the intense eyes glaring at your back. It had been hours by now, sun far behind the horizon and you still hadn’t left this room, fixated on bettering your form and polishing your moves for the upcoming show. Your shirt had been long forgotten onto a nearby rack, occasionally used as a towel to wipe your sweat. The robot bull was turned on once more and you focused on your routine until suddenly you felt a thick rope swoop over your head, tightening around your arms, pinning them at your sides. A pull backwards earned a yelp from you as you were dragged to the floor and closer to the source of this ambush.
“OI FUCK OFF-” You yelled out before a certain ranger stood over you, smirking down at your helpless state with mild intrigue. “Shh shh..I just need ya to stay still.” Boothill said while helping you sit up yet not undoing the binds from around you. Snickering to himself as you seethed in your spot. Practically a steaming teapot ready to let out the worst ear bleeding screech the world would have the misfortune to hear. Who was this asshole and what right did he have to lasso you!? If you were on bad terms with him before then now it was more than set in stone
despite it being one-sided given how much Boothill seemed to fancy catching you.
“Look, you little bull, I need ya help so stop running away from me.” Boothill said, crouching down before you, the rope tight in his hand as he tugged on it ever so slightly. It made you feel more like the bull than the bull rider. Gritting your teeth as you spoke, “No. Ever heard of a rejection before?” the words sarcastic and clearly fed up with this stranger. Boothill sighed and tilted his head, “Listen I’m running outta time here you fudgehead. You either help me or I leave ya here until someone notices their famous bull rider is gone.” The threat sent shivers down your spine, making you silently reevaluate the pros and cons in this situation.
The gears turned in your head for a long while, gazing Boothill up and down a few times. Eyes rolling each time he seemed to grin or make gestures to mimic you going missing. He drove a hard bargain but it’s not like you were in an position to make deals for yourself. Better hope this task of Boothill’s was something actually worth doing. You would certainly give him a piece of your mind were he to ruin all the hard work you’d done for this town so far.
“What do I have to do with this anyways? Can’t you go deal with it alone?” You asked, putting the hatred behind for a moment to gather intel on the situation. If you were to help Boothill then it would be better if you actually knew the backstory rather than jumping in head first. “Apparently he has guards around that prevent me from getting close. Seeing as he’s a big fan of ya he’d let you in easier than I could manage on my own.” Boothill explained and reluctantly gave intel on this man he was after. It wasn’t as detailed as you would have hoped but it gave you a good sense of who was in the right here and who needed to feel the cruel hand of justice.
“So, whadda ya say? Are ya on my side or not?” He asked, grinning while his gaze roamed over your body. From the messy hair, glistening chest and binded hands. You were a nice catch that’s for sure. “Sure, but for your information I never work with people who I deem strangers.” You said back, the sass still ever present in your tone despite the two of you being a team from now on. The grin on Boothill’s face grew as soon as you said that and he leaned even closer. “Why don’t we get to know one another then.” The question was framed as an order and before you could quip back, he had placed the hat from his head to yours, tipping it down to hide your face. "Let's get to know each other reeeal good.” Boothill added with a low snicker.
“Should have known you were one of those buckle bunny wannabes afterall.” You huffed out, face slightly flushed from this intimate moment from which you had no opportunity to get out of. Being in the rodeo scene had some hidden gestures and it seems like neither of you were strangers to them. The comment earned a chuckle alongside a tug against the rope, letting you feel the slight friction burn. “I’m just getting to know ya. Just like ya wanted, no?” He grinned once more and purposefully stood up to teasingly press against the faint tent at the front of your pants. Adding pressure when you visibly tensed up at the touch, “That good?”
Boothill’s words didn’t reach your ears as you wiggled against the restraints and pressed your thighs together as best you could. “Tsk-tsk..little bull you can’t expect us to grow familiar if you do that.” He teased and pulled on the rope again, making you lean forward with a groan. Feeling the hat begin to slip from your head, “Now, that better stay on. Looks good on ya.” He said as he pressed it firm onto your head before sliding his metal hand down to tilt your head up. Seeing the flushed face for the first time. Oh boy what a sight it was. Straight out of an erotica. Brows furrowed, eyes barely open and lips parted to draw in puffs of air from the stuffy room. The scene itself made Boothill subconsciously add pressure against your growing erection, pulling out another shiver from your body.
“You play real dirty ranger.” The words barely croaked out as another wave of shivers travelled down your spine. Your eyes falling shut as you silently pushed your hips into the heavy metal foot to get some form of friction to build. “Ah..that desperate already?” Boothill mused and evilly pulled his foot away before turning around to find a spot to proceed. The middle of a training room seemed a tad too extreme for him. Tugging on the rope to get you to follow like a lamb being led to slaughter, he managed to sit on one of the leather ottoman chairs. 
Smirking up at you while patting his thigh, “Come on now, show me just how good ya can ride.” Boothill tugged you closer by the rope, watching how you tried to gracefully land onto his lap. Maybe hitting your legs a few times against the furniture but a few bruises aren’t something you weren’t used to. “Hah..you seem to be enjoying this game.” You commented while shuffling yourself comfortable on Boothill’s lap, he was metal so it wasn’t exactly easy but at least he was surprisingly warm compared to the wooden floor. “‘course I do. It’s you who’s on top of me.” He purred out and leaned in to press a light kiss to your neck.
Slowly but surely making his way up to the bottom of your jaw before nipping at the skin there, thriving when your lips let out a yelp. “Careful now, don’t want to frighten your bull here.” He said, referring to himself, then tugged you closer so he had better access to your bare chest. Making sure each surface was properly powdered with kisses, bites and licks while slowly moving against you in undulating motions. The more Boothill lathered affection to the juncture between your neck and collar, the more restless you grew. Back gradually arching before it turned into needy grinds against the hard plains beneath you. “You are such a tease..if you’re gonna kiss me do it right.” You groaned out between hot breaths.
Boothill glanced up from his comfortable nook, easily straightening up to capture your lips in a heated kiss. The rope around you momentarily forgotten as his hands caressed down your body and into your jeans. Palming the warm globes before a hand dipped lower, teasing at your entrance with light circular motions. “S-shit..how will you even-” Your question was cut off by a spontaneous bite against your shoulder. “Shh, just enjoy your ride..I’ll deal with the details.” Boothill murmured against your skin as he yanked your jeans off, letting them fall to the ground with no further attention.
The bite had made you moan lowly, resting your head against Boothill’s shoulder the best you could without fully losing the hat on your head. With natural ease your body heated up and began working against the pressure on your ass. Grinding in a figure eight motion to rub your leaking dick against Boothill’s front while also pushing back against the hand probing you open for further penetration. Each roll had you huffing out warm air, biting your lip to prevent lewd moans from slipping free.
Boothill’s free hand found the rope again and he fiercely pulled it back to pull you against him, arching perfectly against his metal body. “Good boy..” he growled and added another finger to the one your body had come accustomed to. To see your flushed face eagerly pushing down against Boothill’s hand was heaven, making him push his hand further inside to hear that wonderful gasp you tended to let out when something felt especially good.
With gradual ease your neediness grew, turning into soft whines of “Come on..just..stop teasing me..” each plea was answered with a chuckle, kiss or sudden thrust of his fingers inside you. He loved seeing you squirm with pleasure, his cute little bull rider. Sensing you were prepared enough, Boothill guided out his own dick. It wasn’t real, obviously, though that didn’t stop him from having fun. Especially when your fucked out expressions would bring him to his own climax. A hand on your lower back to keep the arch steady, he lined up his dick with your hole and then eased himself inside.
A shuddering groan left you, with the little power you had left you pushed down. Impatiently impaling yourself on Boothill’s warm dick, letting it fill you to the brim. “Mhm..that’s the good spot..” you whispered out, head straightening up from its leaned back position. Surprised to see the barely holding on look Boothill harboured, it was your turn to smirk as you showed him why you were the infamous bull rider.  He wanted a ride? You'd give him exactly that. Immediately resuming with the round grinds to get used to him filling you. Each roll of your hips somehow pulled out a small huff from Boothill.
Within a few minutes all purity was out the window, you were loudly groaning with each bounce you made on his dick. Taking him deep with a clench before letting go and undulating then repeating the motion with growing vigour. Feeling how it tapped perfectly against your prostate, nudging past it every few grinds before hitting the spot flawlessly. Gosh it was good and by the, now flushed, expression on Boothill, it felt good for him too. Making him pull you closer by the rope before grinding his own hips to buck up into you. Your bodies flush together as you worked in tandem with one another, like two pieces that fit together splendidly.
Suddenly, Boothill wrapped both his arms around your middle before thrusting up inside you with frantic movements. “Oh fudge..hang on little bull..” he groaned and captured your lips in another kiss while pounding into you with growing power. His hands pulling you down against him with each movement for additional friction as he felt the edge so close now. Just a little bit more. With a gruff rumble he stilled and pressed his hips flush with your ass.
The sudden action made you clench up, back arching wildly while he filled you with none other than a liquid that felt and looked like oil yet didn’t have the smell. “Oh my..oh, fuuckk..” You whimpered out while riding through Boothill’s climax to reach your own, quickly rubbing yourself against his hard torso before letting go with a whine. Splurting your cum to cover the little crevices of his stomach and abdomen. For a moment you two sit there in each other's arms, breathing and catching up with the beating heats that seemed to echo throughout the room.
“You definitely deserve the praise. That one one flipping good ride.” Boothill finally sighed out and busied himself with unbinding your arms. Fingers gently caressing the slight irritation the constant friction had left on your skin. “Yeah..haven’t had a good ‘bull’ in a while.” You chuckled and stretched your arms up, then rested them on Boothill’s shoulders for support. Slowly pulling yourself off his lap, sighing breathily when the drag of his dick stimulated your insides, it squelched out with a slight pop followed by a dribble of his release, sticky and eager to show face.
“Hm, looks like you enjoyed it as much as I did.” You pointed out, dragging a finger through the mess between your thighs, feeling it awkwardly drip from your ass and then holding it out for Boothill to see. Smirking when he actually got embarrassed and looked away, with a step closer you pressed your hand against his abdomen. Mixing your own cum with his, “Seems like we really did get to know one another.” The words whispered and slow as you leaned closer to press a kiss to his ear. Patting his messy tummy as a teasing gesture.
Smiling to yourself as you straightened up, joints popping while you walked around to clothe yourself back up. The nightly training session could be concluded as done, now to get home, into a nice warm shower before bed. Oh yeah, tomorrow you and Boothill will begin working together. So there’s that to look forward to. “Up up ranger. You stay here and I might have to report you as the missing one instead.” You teased with a wink and watched how he scrambled up, fixed appearance and looked for his hat before seeing you wear it with a smile, your own hat hugged to your chest.
“Catch me if you can.” You mouthed before jogging out of the training room, chuckling when Boothill followed with a laugh of his own. “You’re on little bull. I'll catch you again.”
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