#go create the waves for whites movement

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄/𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

You wake up early, stretching lazily before grabbing Xavier’s hoodie from where it hangs on the rack like it’s routine. He’s still sleeping soundly as you slip out of the bedroom. The hoodie envelops you completely, sleeves hanging past your wrists, carrying his distinct, comforting scent.

In the kitchen, you prepare a simple breakfast for yourself, and a plate for Xavier that you know will likely go cold. The morning news plays quietly on the TV as you settle onto the couch, legs tucked underneath you, swimming in the soft fabric of his hoodie, feeling wrapped in Xavier’s presence despite his absence.

Movement catches your eye as Xavier appears in the doorway. His eyes find you immediately, taking in the sight of you wearing his clothing.

“Good morning,” you say, offering him his plate. “I made you breakfast.”

Xavier glances at the food but doesn’t take it. Instead, he shifts closer, arm sliding around your shoulders to pull you against his side. “Later,” he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep.

His fingers trace absent patterns on your arm through the fabric of his hoodie, and you can feel him breathing in deeply, as if taking in the sight of you wrapped in something that belongs to him.

You nestle closer, and within minutes, his breathing becomes more even. Looking up, you find his eyes have drifted closed, his posture completely relaxed. You smile, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. Even in sleep, his arm remains securely around you, keeping you close as if unwilling to let you go now that he’s found you this way—comfortable, content, and wrapped in his clothing.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The mission had been longer than expected, and you’re exhausted as you make your way back home. Zayne had returned from his shift a few hours ago, and you’ve been looking forward to seeing him after days apart. You’re wearing his jacket—the black one with the subtle white trim that you’d taken from his closet before leaving. It’s become a comfort object during your mission, the lingering scent of his cologne providing reassurance during stressful moments.

You stop at the corner store for snacks before finally unlocking the apartment door. The place is quiet but warm as you kick off your shoes and pad toward the living room.

You find Zayne on the couch with journals spread around him. He looks up as you enter, his eyes immediately locking onto his jacket draped over your frame. Given his preference for professional coats, his collection of casual jackets and hoodies is small and meticulously maintained—making the absence of even one immediately noticeable to someone as detail-oriented as him.

“So that’s where it went,” he says. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he sets aside his work, creating space beside him.

You drop down next to him with a tired sigh. “Found me out.”

Zayne reaches out, fingers brushing against the collar of his jacket where it meets your neck. The touch is gentle, almost reverent. “It suits you better than me,” he murmurs.

His hand moves to your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. “Next time,” he says, voice low near your ear, “take more than one. You know I don’t mind.”

His arm remains around you, a subtle but clear indication that while you may have his jacket, he’s pleased to have you.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The gallery opening had been exhausting—too many people packed into too small a space, all of them wanting a piece of Rafayel’s attention. You’d smiled and nodded and played your part perfectly, but by the time you returned to his seaside home, you were completely drained.

Rafayel had stayed behind to handle some business with Thomas, insisting you go ahead without him. You’d grabbed one of his hoodies—the soft blue one with white pattern of waves—and changed into it the moment you got home. Now, curled up on the couch with the artsy duckie plushie he’d won for you clutched against your chest, you’d finally found peace in the quiet of the evening.

The sound of the door opening and closing barely registers as you drift between sleep and wakefulness. You vaguely hear the soft footsteps approaching, then a delighted sound that could only come from Rafayel.

“Oh, look at you,” he coos, his voice soft. “Absolutely precious.”

You hear the click of his phone camera and crack open one eye to see him standing above you, a fond expression on his face as he takes another photo to set it as his home screen later.

“Are you documenting my crime?” you mumble sleepily.

“I’m documenting perfection,” he corrects, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Move over a bit.”

You comply, and he squeezes onto the couch beside you, pulling you half onto his chest. His fingers thread through your hair, and you feel the tension in his body from the event slowly release.

“Did Thomas give you a hard time about leaving early?” you ask, voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

“Thomas always gives me a hard time,” Rafayel replies with a dismissive wave. “But I’d rather be here with you.”

You snuggle closer, the artsy duckie plushie squished between you, and feel him press a kiss to the top of your head as you both settle into the comfortable silence.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

Snow falls in thick flakes outside the window, blanketing the forest view in pristine white. You stand before the floor-to-ceiling glass, mesmerized by the winter snow cascading from the gloomy sky. Sylus’s dark jacket envelops you like a protective shell, the sleeves long enough that you can curl your fingers into them. It smells like him—a blend of expensive cologne and something uniquely his—and wearing it feels almost like being wrapped in his embrace.

You’ve been standing there for nearly twenty minutes, lost in thought, when you hear the door to the residence open and close. You don’t turn, knowing exactly who it is from the footsteps entering the room.

“Enjoying the view?” Sylus asks, his voice closer than you expected.

You glance over your shoulder to find him watching you with an expression that makes your heart rate quicken. His eyes track from your face down to the jacket you’re wearing.

“It’s peaceful,” you reply, turning back to the window. “Everything looks so quiet from up here.”

“Indeed,” he agrees, though you can tell from his reflection in the glass that he’s not looking at the snow at all. He moves to sit behind you, close enough that you can feel his warmth. “Though I must say, my jacket looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

You smile, watching his reflection. “It’s warm.”

“If it’s warmth you’re seeking,” Sylus says, his hands coming to rest lightly on your shoulders, “perhaps I could offer something more comforting than a piece of fabric?”

You turn to face him, still wrapped in his jacket. “Is that an offer or a command?”

His lips curve into that familiar smirk as he pulls you closer. “With you? Always an offer.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The DAA jacket is practically a relic now—Caleb hasn’t worn it in years, not since he became Colonel in the Farspace Fleet. But it still hangs in the closet of your shared place, and on the nights when he’s away on missions, you find yourself reaching for it.

Tonight is one of those nights. The bed feels too big, too empty without him, and the jacket is a poor substitute but better than nothing. You’ve wrapped yourself in it, breathing in the faint traces of his scent that somehow still cling to the fabric after all this time.

You’re reading through reports on your tablet when the door slides open unexpectedly. You look up, startled, to see Caleb standing in the doorway, still in his Fleet uniform, a day earlier than scheduled.

“Caleb! You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow,” you say, sitting up straighter.

His eyes immediately zero in on the jacket you’re wearing, and a slow, teasing grin spreads across his face. “Well, well. What do we have here? A thief in the house?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “Hardly stealing when it’s been hanging untouched for years.”

Caleb fully enters the room and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to finger the fabric of the jacket’s collar. “I don’t know,” he says, voice dropping lower. “Looks like theft to me. I should probably report this.”

“I’ll give it back,” you offer, starting to shrug it off.

“Don’t you dare,” he says quickly, catching your hands with a grin. “It looks better on you anyway.” He pauses, then adds with mischief, “In fact, I think you should raid my entire closet. Take it all. Every last shirt and sock.”

You laugh, leaning forward to kiss him. “Welcome home, Caleb.”

“Home is wherever you are,” he replies, pulling you closer. “Stolen jacket and all.”

Based on this request.

[ninisdollie]

so full - koga yudai ❤︎⊹.

𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁ request !!

“In which Kei is obsessed with breeding his girlfriend until she can’t take it anymore.”

‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ Content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x k, established relationship, breeding kink, unprotected sex, spitting, belly bulge, dirty talking, overstimulation.

hate comments will be deleted and blocked, likes and reblogs are appreciated!! <3

Kei was on top of you, his weight heavy over you delicate body, legs wrapped around his shoulders, his hand gripping so tight it was starting to hurt. You were already trembling, barely holding on, but he didn’t stop, not even when you gasped his name with a broken voice. 

His pace was brutal but slow, every thrust deep, dragging it because he enjoyed savouring the stretch, the heat, the way you were already leaking all over him, from both your own wetness and his fluids. 

“One more, baby girl.” His voice was raw as he growled into your neck “You can take one more, can you? We need to make sure it stays.” 

His hands were everywhere. Your hips, your throat, your stomach, pressing down to feel himself inside of you, to feel how good he was ruining you. He was so thick, so long and rough inside of you, every inch of your insides clenching around him like it was made for this. 

Your body was long past its limit, your hips trembling, thighs slick with everything he had already spilled inside of you, your vision blurry. It was too much. You were not sure how long it had been, how many times he had finished inside of you. 

His grip on you was bruising, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. His drag inside you was punishing, deep, unhurried, overwhelming. He fucked you like it was the only thing that mattered, moulding your body to only fit him. 

“Look at you.” He breathed, his voice low and filled with lust and hunger “Poor baby, you can barely keep your eyes open, can you?” 

You tried to shake your head to answer, but all that came out was a shaky moan as he bottomed out again, deeper than before, your back arching instinctively even though it hurt. Your muscles twitched with every movement, it was addicting and dizzying. 

He leaned in close, mouth brushing your ear. 

“You said you could take it, baby. So take it.” His tone was darker, meaner, but there was still affection in it. Like he loved having you like this, broken, wrecked and dripping. Dripping him. “You wanted me to fill you, so I’m not stopping until you’re bred. Until there is nothing left in you than me” 

Kei’s fingers trailed down your stomach, pressing again into the bulge he was creating every time he thrusted back in. You were shivering, your could feel as if your body was going to short circuit, every nerve raw, but you wanted it. So bad. 

“You’re so greedy, angel.” He growled, watching the mess between your legs “You’re soaking the sheets and you’re still clenching around me like you need more.” 

He spat between your bodies, watching it mix with the cum already leaking from you, and drove back in without warning. You screamed, back arching helplessly as your legs kicked weakly around his waist. 

“T-Too much, it’s too much…” 

“You like this.” He said, breathless “Being used. Getting filled again and again until your body is completely mine.” 

He held himself there, deep and pulsing, and you could feel another wave of heat spill inside. Warm, thick, creamy and so good. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your whole body shaking, mind white and hot and spiralling, but the stretch, the fullness, the filthy pressure in your belly, it was everything. 

“One more.” He muttered again, and a tear slipped down your cheek, you couldn’t even open your eyes “And another. You can take it, pretty girl. You were made for this.” 

[kissandtellus]

True Treasure

Synopsis: Dragon Hybrid!reader is pregnant with Sylus’ first clutch. Just Sylus being cute + caring.

Warnings: Egg laying (sorry yall), one sentence about cleaning up after the eggs, praising, fluffy Sylus, don’t really know the world of dragons so I’m making it up as I go.

Sylus watches with red, stern eyes as his mate walked the length of the nest, hands cupping under her heavy belly. This clutch is insistent, stubborn and so tiring. Sylus is watching with bated breath, sharp red eyes following her movements.

The nest has been meticulously created by Sylus, adding warm furs and treasure with his scent coated on every piece. But she hadn’t even stepped foot close to it, refusing to relax.

Sylus purrs, the sound deep in his chest. He stands from the makeshift throne of stone and jewels. “Be calm, sweet girl.” He rumbles, approaching her cautiously.

Her nostrils are flaring, a thin white smoke puffing from them. “I cannot sit still. It’s nearly impossible.” She groans, waving a hand at Sylus, a small signal to not approach her further.

But Sylus was never that good at signals.

He tries his best to obey the furrowing of her brows and the way her wings twitch and shiver in pain. Until she lets out a groan more akin to dragon.

Sylus quickly moves to her side, his large frame looming over her. "Breathe," he commands firmly, his voice softer now. He knows the signs, he's seen it before. The contractions are starting. "It's time, isn't it?"

She wants to utter a sharp rebuttal but she groans, giving a small nod. Her hair falls around her horns a bit. Sylus gently guides her back to the nest, sitting behind her as he braids her hair out of her face, humming an old dragon song under his breath.

As Sylus gently braids her hair, his large hands moving carefully to avoid her horns, he hums an old dragon lullaby. The song is meant to soothe both mother and hatchlings during birth. His tail wraps gently around her waist, providing support as she leans back against him.

While continuing to braid her hair, Sylus presses his forehead against her temple. His deep, resonant voice continues the ancient melody. "Breathe through it," he whispers, feeling her body tense with another contraction. "You're doing well," he adds softly, knowing how vulnerable and exposed she must feel.

He finishes braiding her hair just as another contraction hits. This time, she lets out a pained whimper, causing his scales to prickle in reaction. He presses closer, murmuring calming words in their ancient language into her ear - "Thaethera'ma. Easy now, my heart."

She leans her head back, the dragon language soothing her nerves. She lets out a soft cry that echoes off the walls of the cave.

"That's it," he murmurs, supporting her properly now, his large frame molding to hers. The dragon language flows smooth from his throat, ancient phrases meant to ease her suffering. His clawed hands press gently against her lower belly as the contraction peaks. "Almost over," he whispers.

As the first egg emerges, slick and glistening, Sylus lets out a soft rumble of approval.

His tail wraps tighter around her, supporting her as she pushes out the second egg, and then the third. He counts them silently, ensuring the clutch is complete. "Perfect.”

She digs her claws into the nest. Sylus is now between her legs. He gently grasps the back of her head. She roughly bumps her horns into his, growling with fangs exposed.

Sylus responds to her growl with a low rumble, understanding her primal need for dominance even in this vulnerable state. He gently presses his horns against hers, allowing her to assert herself while he continues to support her through the final stages of labor. "Good girl," he murmurs approvingly.

As the last egg slips out, Sylus immediately begins to clean her, his tongue gentle yet firm as he laps at her belly and between her legs. He cleans the eggs gently, making sure they're warm and safe. "You did beautifully," he praises, nuzzling against her neck.

"Three beautiful hatchlings," he whispers, carefully arranging the eggs in the nest. He presses his chest against her back, providing warmth and comfort. His wings shield them both from the cave's cooler air as he gently rubs his cheek against her horns, a sign of deep respect and love.

His little family, his true treasures.

Next Chapter ->

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Multiverse Police (pt. 2)

"You said you're going to ask questions, then can we ask questions?" Superman really tries to be polite here because, first, he was raised by Kents and, second, Jazz and the whole interdimensional police thing looks non-hostile. At least now.

The redhead nods, "Sure, ask away, I'll answer everything I can." Then, she notices Batman reaching to touch the green shield and makes a soft, warning noise, "Ah, sorry, please don't touch it. I can show how it works later, but it's not meant to keep you out. It's to keep everything else in."

Batman reluctantly puts his head down and turns to her.

"Elaborate."

The sci-fi ship in the air makes a loud hissing sound, like compressed air being released, and the bottom part of it slides open. Jazz nods in the direction of the now open ship.

"You know what they say, it's better to see it once than to hear it ten times."

There are three humanoid figures standing in there. All of them are mostly monochrome, black and white clothes, starkling white hair. They look like one adult and two children, but it's one of the kids who raises his hands to his mouth and yells so loud everyone in three miles radius is able to hear him:

"Step away from the shield, please, shit's about to get real!"

None of the heroes move, but Jazz does take a few steps away. Wonder Woman, after a moment of hesitation, follows her example.

A mechanical voice comes from the ship itself, "Countdown to the breach. Five... Four..."

On 'three,' all three of the monochrome figures step out from the ship. But, before any of the heroes have time to worry, they all float in the air, undeterred by gravity, and the ship door closes behind them.

The countdown reaches 'one'. And in the next moment, it looks like the hell breaks loose.

Countless giant vines shoot out from the portal up, reaching for the ship. True to what the red hoverboarder said, they are very much toothy, every vine splitting in two and attempting to bite the ship like some twisted idea of scissors.

None of them reach it.

The oldest of three kids claps his hands, and a wall of raging fire descends on the vines, throwing them off. In the next moment, the trio falls apart, flying through the lovecraftian mess of carnivorous plants with practiced ease, the younger ones using what looks like icicles and little storms.

"Who are they?" Batman asks Jazz, following the youngest one's - the only girl among the three - movements as she creates a strong gust of wind with a wave of her hand. None of the vines or attacks get past the shield, though.

"My siblings," the girl answers, pointing her hand at the oldest one, "That's Dan. He's the most violent. One time, he destroyed our original world, but that timeline doesn't exist anymore." She then points to the girl, "That's Dani, the youngest. She rarely joins the crew lately. And she is actually a clone, but at this point, most of us have been cloned once or twice, so it's not a big deal anymore." She then points her finger to the last one, a boy that flies past them quicker than a lightning, freezing everything he touches, "And this is Danny. He is the most powerful one. Technically, he could have just ended the fight with one Wail, but kids like to have fun. Also, they don't get to show off their elemental powers a lot, so they are mostly being dramatic for you."

She says all this so easily, just like a matter of fact, and it is at this moment that the members of JL realize the sheer power of whoever these people are. When she casually told them she bested Superman, it could have been written as a coincidence, a joke. But this?

Dan growls as one of the vines scratches his shoulder. He bleeds green, but it's only for a second before both the wound and the suit knit themselves back together. This is not just a simple accelerated healing, it almost looks like a miracle.

"Oi, brats, I'm done with show off, get out of the way!" He yells at the other two, and Danny and Dani quickly follow the order, flying closer to him and behind his back.

"Cover your ears," Jazz tells the heroes around her, and puts her helmet back on, as Dan takes a deep breath and screams.

It hurts even those who follow Jazz's advice. Batman feels like his eardrums are about to be shattered for the lack of better word. But the vines like the sonic attack even less - most of them subdue and pull back inside the portal, and the rest is dissipating like they are being burned from the inside out.

And then, just like it began, the scream - the wail - stops. The silence feels deafening after the end of it, but slowly, the sounds return, and the JL watches Danny flying down to the center of the portal. He puts his hands on the surface of it, and for a long moment, nothing happens.

And then the Pit starts closing up.

Or, no, it is Danny who absorbs it, the green flowing up through his hands, his veins that start glowing the same green. His eyes become the same toxic color, with no whites and no irises, just glowing green all over, and his hair shimmers like stars.

A few minutes later, the portal is gone, like it never even existed, and Danny plants his feet on the ground and stretches, like one would do after a good rest.

"Oof, that was nice!" He turns to the other two, who are still up in the air, "Do you want some?"

Dan flips him off before going back to the ship, but Dani floats down to him and extends her hands out.

"Sure. I like getting it from you better than from the portal itself anyway. Gives it a sparkling taste, like Sprite," she chuckles. Danny takes her hands in his, and the green glow slowly makes its way through their joined palms, now flowing through the girl’s body.

"What are they?" Flash whispers, horrified, but Jazz hears it nonetheless and turns her head to him, taking her helmet off once again.

"That is not a very appropriate question," she chastises and smiles at their faces, "But it's okay, I get it. They are ghosts. Or ectoplasmic entities, or halfas, or highly liminal beings. Or, if you want a very simplified version, they are dead kids who are enjoying their afterlife a little too much."

"Dead?" Batman zeros on the word, snapping his eyes at the girl. She smiles, and for the first time, it doesn't look human. Her teeth are too sharp, her grin too wide, and her eyes are suddenly not just teal, but neon bright and glowing, with vertical irises.

"Most of us are dead in one way or another. And I do not mean it in a metaphorical sense."

-------------------

What I'm thinking is they have a whole system going on. Amity Park generally resides in the Realms, but from time to time, they decide they want to go on a vacation, as a whole town, and they pop into existence on one of the Earths. They don't really care for the universe or dimension they end up in, as long as it is more or less peaceful (as in, no active wars going on right where they pop up), has sunlight and nice weather.

The GIW is taking care of legal things - imagine US government reaction when a whole ass town just boom, starts existing in a place where nothing existed before? So GIW does all the paperwork and discussions. Also, they are doing their basic research on the dimension they end up in, for science purposes.

I'm thinking Vlad is still a mayor of Amity. And sometimes, when a particular dimension is rather annoying, he straight up possesses the authorities because he hates official talks and couldn't care less for morals if he tried for a week. The GIW scolds him, but don't really say no. It's not a good solution to the problem, but hey, it works.

Meanwhile, Fentons are doing ectoplasmic research. They scan the dimension for troubles, basically, looking for natural portals and ghosts causing ruckus. Jazz is almost always the one who does the talking to the heroes native to the dimension - she is the one who has the most patience and social skills. Jack is in charge of transportation and Maddie is the head of biological, ecto-biological and other species research. Tucker is the tech specialist, of course - he is the sole reason why Amity has wi-fi wherever they go. Val and her father are, kind of, protectors? Security? But for the whole town, yeah. They do have GIW agents as subordinates.

Dani is not always living in Amity, she travels the Realms most of the time, but she joins when something interesting happens. Dan is, like, on an eternal probation period, GIW and Fentons keep an eye on him, but he is one of the heavy hitters for when shit goes down.

Danny is living his best life, he is mainly the protector spirit of Amity, but he also gets to protect all the dimensions from ghosts! He helps anyone and everyone - one day he is working with Val on defenses for their main ship they use to travel inside dimensions, and the next day he is joining Maddie in her studies of new species found.

Oh, I forgot Sam. She is probably the one responsible for the magic stuff - mostly everyone else focuses on scientific aspects, but she is the one to research on occult things.

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[ghstyles]

Off | H.S

Boyfriendrry | Smut | One shot | HS1 Harry | Masterlist | Yours

["Can't blame a man for having a natural reaction to his gorgeous girlfriend," Harry continues, still not looking up. "Especially when she's being a little tease."]

The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts warm shadows across the hotel suite bedroom. Outside, the faint sounds of the city create a gentle backdrop to their quiet evening. Harry and Y/N are nestled in the plush king-sized bed, the white duvet tangled around their legs. Harry is sprawled across Y/N, his long limbs completely enveloping her smaller frame, his head resting on her chest as her fingers lazily trace patterns through his curls.

Harry's breathing is deep and content, his considerable weight pressing her into the mattress in that comfortable way she's grown to love. One of his legs is thrown over both of hers, effectively pinning her beneath him, while his arm is wrapped possessively around her waist. It's their favorite way to cuddle–him using her as his personal body pillow.

A mischievous thought suddenly crosses Y/N's mind. Her lips quirk into a subtle smirk as she decides to have a bit of fun with him.

"Harry?" she asks softly, her voice deliberately neutral.

"Mmm?" he hums against her collarbone, not bothering to open his eyes, clearly half-dozing in his comfortable position.

"Can you get off of me?" Y/N says, working hard to keep any hint of laughter out of her voice.

The effect is instantaneous. Harry's head flies up so quickly he nearly gives himself whiplash. His green eyes are comically wide with shock, eyebrows shooting toward his hairline as he stares at her with such profound offense it's as if she's just suggested they burn his entire designer wardrobe.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" he asks, his voice pitched higher than normal, absolute betrayal written across his handsome features.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, maintaining her straight face. "I asked if you could get off me."

Harry's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Without another word, he dramatically peels himself away from her body, each movement exaggerated for maximum effect. He rolls to his side of the bed with such theatrical flair that any stage director would be impressed.

He doesn't stop there. Harry continues his wounded retreat, scooting until he reaches the very edge of the mattress, as far from her as physically possible without falling off. He turns his back to her with an exaggerated huff, curling into himself like a kicked puppy, his shoulders hunched defensively.

The sight of Harry Styles, global superstar, heartthrob to millions, pouting like a petulant child because his girlfriend asked him to move is too much for Y/N. The laughter she's been suppressing erupts from her in uncontrollable waves, her entire body shaking with it.

"Oh my god," she gasps between fits of giggles, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "You should see your face! I was just joking!"

Harry doesn't move, his back still firmly turned to her, though she can see the slight tension in his shoulders that tells her he's listening.

"Baby," Y/N coos, still giggling as she scoots across the bed toward him. "Come back. I didn't mean it."

Harry remains motionless, his silence only making her laugh harder.

"Harry Edward Styles," she says, reaching out to run her fingers down his bare back. "Are you really going to sulk because I played one tiny joke on you?"

He glances over his shoulder, his green eyes narrowed, but she can see the twitch at the corner of his mouth that he's trying to suppress.

"You wounded me," he declares dramatically, turning back away from her. "My girlfriend, the love of my life, the woman I worship daily, just rejected my cuddles. I may never recover."

Y/N bursts into fresh laughter, wrapping her arms around him from behind and pressing kisses to his shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry," she says, not sounding sorry at all. "Please forgive me. I love your cuddles. I love being crushed by your lanky body. I miss you terribly all the way over here."

Harry makes a show of considering her words, his body still rigid in her embrace. "I don't know if I can trust you anymore. This is a serious betrayal, Y/N."

She slides her hand around to his chest, feeling his heart beat strong beneath her palm. "What can I do to make it up to you?" she whispers near his ear.

Finally, Harry rolls over to face her, his façade cracking as a reluctant smile tugs at his lips. "You're evil, you know that? Absolutely fucking evil."

Y/N grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You should have seen how fast your head popped up. Like a meerkat spotting a predator."

Harry narrows his eyes playfully before suddenly pouncing and caging her beneath him again. "You think you're so funny, don't you?" he growls, though his eyes dance with amusement.

"I'm hilarious," she confirms, beaming up at him. "And you're so easy to mess with."

Harry shakes his head, his curls falling into his eyes. "You're lucky I love you, because that was some cruel and unusual punishment."

Y/N reaches up to brush his hair back, her expression softening. "I love you too. Even when you're using me as a mattress."

"Especially then," Harry corrects, lowering himself to reclaim his position sprawled across her body, his weight settling comfortably on top of her once more. "And just for that little stunt, I'm not moving for the rest of the night. You're trapped now, love."

Y/N wraps her arms around him, perfectly content with her punishment. "Promise?"

Harry presses a kiss to her collarbone, his lips curving into a smile against her skin. "Cross my heart."

· · ─────────── ·· ────────── · · 

Harry remains sprawled across Y/N, his weight pleasantly pinning her to the mattress. The room is quiet except for their breathing and the distant sounds of the city below. After several minutes of comfortable silence, Y/N becomes distinctly aware of a growing hardness pressing against her thigh where Harry's hips are settled against her.

She smirks to herself, running her fingers lightly up and down his spine before breaking the silence.

"I thought you said you won't move," Y/N says with playful accusation in her voice. "What's this that I feel poking my thigh, huh?"

Harry doesn't lift his head from her chest, but she can feel his lips curve into a smug smile against her skin.

"That's not me moving, love," he drawls, his voice a low rumble against her collarbone. "That's just my body showing its appreciation for the canvas it's lying on."

He shifts his hips ever so slightly, deliberately pressing his growing erection more firmly against her thigh.

"Can't blame a man for having a natural reaction to his gorgeous girlfriend," Harry continues, still not looking up. "Especially when she's being a little tease."

Finally, he props himself up on his forearms, hovering above her with that signature cocky grin spreading across his face. His green eyes have darkened slightly, pupils dilating as he gazes down at her.

"Besides," he adds, voice dropping to that gravelly timbre that never fails to send shivers down her spine, "I said I wouldn't move. I never said parts of me wouldn't...rise to the occasion."

Y/N rolls her eyes at his terrible pun, but can't suppress her laugh. "That was awful, even for you."

Harry's grin turns positively wicked as he dips his head closer to hers. "Want to know what's not awful? The things I'm thinking about doing to you right now."

His hand slides under the oversized t-shirt she's wearing, one of his, naturally, and his warm palm glides up her bare thigh.

"Still want me to get off you?" he teases, his lips hovering just above hers. "Or would you prefer I get you off instead?"

Y/N's breath hitches as his fingers trace maddening patterns along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, deliberately avoiding where she's beginning to want him most.

"I'm waiting for an answer, baby," Harry murmurs, his curls falling forward to frame his face as he watches her with hungry eyes. "Should I stop moving altogether? Including this?"

His hand stills on her thigh, his thumb resting mere centimeters from the edge of her underwear. The smirk on his face makes it clear he knows exactly what he's doing.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, recognizing his game. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"And yet you suffer me so beautifully," he counters, leaning down to place a feather-light kiss on the corner of her mouth. "So what'll it be? Am I getting off or getting you off?"

He rolls his hips again for emphasis, the hard length of him pressing insistently against her thigh through the thin fabric of his boxers.

Y/N reaches up, threading her fingers through his curls and tugging just hard enough to make his eyes darken further.

"I think you know exactly what I want," she whispers, pulling him down until their lips are just barely touching.

"Say it," Harry demands softly, his breath warm against her mouth. "I want to hear you say it after that little stunt you pulled."

Y/N wraps her legs around his waist, effectively trapping him against her and aligning his hardness exactly where she wants it.

"Don't you dare get off me," she says, her voice both challenge and invitation. "Not until you've made me come at least twice."

Harry's answering grin is positively sinful as he closes the minuscule gap between their lips.

"Now that," he growls against her mouth, "is an order I'm happy to follow."

Harry's lips move hungrily against Y/N's, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth before delving inside. His hand continues its teasing journey up her thigh, fingers dancing along sensitive skin. Y/N smiles against his eager kiss, pulling back just enough to look into his darkened green eyes.

"Do you ever say no?" she asks with a knowing smirk, her voice laced with amusement. 

Harry pauses, his curls falling forward as he cocks his head slightly, considering her question with mock seriousness. His thumb traces lazy circles against her inner thigh.

"To you? To this?" he responds, rolling his hips deliberately against her core for emphasis. "Not a fucking chance."

Y/N laughs softly, her hands sliding up his bare chest. "Even when you were dying of the flu last month? You could barely stand, but you still managed to—"

"Best medicine I've ever had," Harry interrupts with a wolfish grin, not a hint of shame in his expression. "Doctor Styles recommends regular doses of his girlfriend's perfect pussy for all conditions. Worked better than any of those pills the actual doctor prescribed."

He dips his head to nip playfully at her neck, his voice dropping to that gravelly rumble that vibrates against her skin. 

"Besides, if I remember correctly, you weren't exactly pushing me away when I had my face between your thighs that night."

He pulls back just enough to gauge her reaction, his dimple appearing as his smile turns smug.

"I was delirious with fever, and you still came twice," he reminds her, clearly proud of himself. "Thought I was going to pass out afterward, but bloody hell, it was worth it."

Y/N rolls her eyes, though her cheeks flush at the memory. "You're insatiable."

"Only for you," Harry counters, his expression shifting slightly, a rare glimpse of vulnerability beneath the bravado. "Two years and I still can't get enough. Probably never will."

His hand slides higher, fingers finally brushing against the damp fabric of her underwear. His smile turns victorious when she gasps softly at the contact.

"The day I say no to you," Harry murmurs, pressing his forehead against hers, "is the day you should check my fucking pulse, because I've clearly been replaced by an imposter."

He pushes her underwear aside, running a finger through her slick folds, his breath catching slightly at how wet she already is.

"Now, are we going to keep talking about this," he asks, circling her clit with deliberate precision that makes her hips buck upward, "or are you going to let me give you what we both know you want?"

Y/N threads her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly as she pulls him back down toward her lips.

"Less talking," she whispers against his mouth, "more doing."

Harry's answering chuckle is dark and full of promise as he presses two fingers inside her, swallowing her moan with a deep kiss.

"Yes, ma'am," he growls against her lips. "Whatever you want, you know I can't say no."

His fingers work skillfully inside Y/N, curling to hit that spot that makes her back arch off the bed. His mouth trails heated kisses down her neck, occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin beneath her ear. Her breathy moans fill the dimly lit room, a symphony that drives him wild with need.

Between gasps of pleasure, Y/N manages to find her voice.

"Harry," she moans, her words punctuated by his insistent kisses. "I want to be on top today. Please."

Harry pauses, lifting his head to meet her gaze. His green eyes are nearly black with desire, his curls disheveled where she's been gripping them. A slow, appreciative smile spreads across his face.

"Fuck," he breathes, voice rough with want. "Yes."

In one fluid movement that speaks to his strength, Harry rolls onto his back, taking Y/N with him. His hands grip her hips as he positions her to straddle him, her thighs now bracketing his narrow waist. He looks up at her with unabashed hunger, taking in the sight of her hair cascading around her shoulders, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his large hands sliding reverently up her sides, pushing his t-shirt that she's wearing higher up her body. "Fucking gorgeous."

Y/N reaches down and pulls the shirt over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Harry's breath audibly catches as she sits above him, naked except for her underwear. The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathes her skin in warm light, highlighting every curve of her figure.

"Much better," she says with a teasing smile, grinding her hips down against his prominent erection, still confined in his boxers.

Harry hisses at the contact, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips. "You're trying to fucking kill me, aren't you?" he groans, his accent thickening with arousal.

Y/N's smile turns wicked as she reaches between them, slipping her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers to wrap her fingers around his length. Harry's eyes flutter closed briefly, a low curse escaping his lips.

"Not kill," she corrects, stroking him slowly. "Just torture a little."

Harry's eyes snap open, dark and challenging. "Two can play at that game, love."

His hand moves between her thighs, pushing her underwear aside once more. His thumb finds her clit with practiced ease, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until Y/N's movements falter and a broken moan escapes her lips.

"Take these off," he commands, tugging at her underwear with his free hand. "Want to see all of you."

Y/N rises slightly on her knees, allowing Harry to slide the damp fabric down her thighs. She has to shift to get them fully off, and Harry takes advantage of the moment to rid himself of his boxers as well. When she settles back over him, they both groan at the sensation of skin against skin, his hard length pressed against her wet heat.

"Now who's torturing who?" Y/N breathes, rocking her hips to slide along his length without taking him inside.

Harry's jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck standing out as he exercises restraint. "Y/N," he warns, his voice a gravelly rumble. "Don't make me flip you back over."

She laughs softly, enjoying the rare moment of having the upper hand with him. Slowly, deliberately, she reaches between them to position him at her entrance.

"You wouldn't dare," she challenges, sinking down just enough to take the tip of him inside her.

Harry's entire body tenses beneath her, his green eyes locked on hers with an intensity that makes her breath catch. "Try me," he growls, though his hands remain firmly on her hips, guiding her movements rather than taking control.

Y/N places her palms on his chest for leverage, feeling his heart hammering beneath her touch. With agonizing slowness, she lowers herself onto him, taking him inch by inch until he's fully seated inside her. They both moan at the sensation of him filling her completely.

"Fuck," Harry breathes, his head falling back against the pillows. "That's it, baby. Take what you want."

Y/N begins to move, setting a rhythm that has Harry's fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave marks that she secretly loves finding the next day. She rolls her body in a way that brings him deeper with each movement, her hands braced on his firm chest.

"God, look at you," Harry groans, his eyes drinking in the sight of her above him. "Riding my cock like you were made for it. So fucking beautiful."

His vulgar praise sends a thrill through her as she increases her pace, chasing the building pleasure. One of Harry's hands slides from her hip to where they're joined, his thumb finding her clit once more.

"That's it," he encourages, feeling her inner walls beginning to flutter around him. "Take your pleasure, love. Want to feel you come on my cock."

His crude words combined with the dual stimulation quickly push Y/N toward the edge. Her movements become less coordinated as the tension builds low in her belly.

"Harry," she gasps, her head falling back as the first waves of pleasure begin to crash through her. "I'm—"

"I know, baby," he growls, his hips thrusting up to meet her movements. "Let go for me. Wanna feel it."

Y/N shatters above him, her inner walls clenching around him as she cries out his name. Harry continues guiding her hips through her orgasm, prolonging her pleasure as she trembles above him.

Before she's fully recovered, Harry's patience snaps. With a swift movement that showcases his strength, he sits up, wrapping one arm around her waist to keep them connected while his other hand tangles in her hair.

"My turn," he growls against her lips before capturing them in a bruising kiss.

He begins thrusting up into her with renewed vigor, the angle hitting spots deep inside her that have Y/N gasping into his mouth. Her oversensitive body quickly builds toward a second peak as Harry sets a relentless pace.

"Gonna fill you up," Harry pants against her neck, his rhythm becoming erratic as he nears his own release. "Gonna come so deep inside you."

His crude promises push Y/N toward the edge once more, her nails digging into his shoulders as she holds on for dear life.

"Yes," she moans, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. "Please, Harry. Come inside me."

Her words are his undoing. With a deep groan, Harry buries his face in her neck as his hips stutter and he pulses inside her. The feeling of his release triggers Y/N's second orgasm, her body clenching around him as they fall apart in each other's arms.

For several long moments, they remain entwined, breathing heavily, bodies slick with sweat. Harry peppers soft kisses along her shoulder and neck, his hands now gentle as they stroke her back.

"Fuck," he finally murmurs against her skin, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Maybe you should tell me to get off you more often if this is the result."

Y/N smiles, resting her forehead against his as they both catch their breath. "Noted for future reference."

Harry gently brushes her tangled hair away from her face, his touch surprisingly tender after such intensity. "I meant what I said earlier, you know," he says quietly, a rare moment of post-coital vulnerability. "Two years and I still can't get enough of you. Don't think I ever will."

Y/N's heart swells at the sincerity in his eyes, so different from his usual cocky demeanor. "Good thing I'm not going anywhere then," she replies softly.

Harry's answering smile is genuine and warm as he carefully lays back, bringing her with him to rest on his chest.

"Good thing indeed," he murmurs into her hair, his arms tightening protectively around her. "Because I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, love. Fame and fortune be damned."

The soft afterglow envelops them as they lie tangled together, their breathing gradually returning to normal. Harry's fingers trace lazy patterns along Y/N's spine as she rests against his chest, their bodies still connected in the most intimate way. After several minutes of contented silence, Y/N begins to stir, pressing gentle kisses up the planes of his chest.

She sits up slowly, their bodies separating with a shared shiver of sensitivity. Harry makes a small sound of protest at the loss of contact, immediately moving to follow her upward motion. His hands reach for her waist, clearly intending to pull her back into his embrace.

"Stay," Y/N commands softly, placing a firm hand on his chest to push him back down.

Harry's eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, but an intrigued smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he settles back against the pillows. His green eyes, still dark with lingering desire, track her movements with hungry attention.

"What are you up to, love?" he murmurs, his voice still rough from their previous activities.

Y/N doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she moves with deliberate purpose, shifting her position until she's straddling his chest, her knees on either side of his shoulders. Harry's eyes widen in understanding, his hands automatically coming up to grip her thighs.

"Fuck," he breathes, his gaze fixed on the glistening evidence of their shared pleasure between her legs. "You're not giving me a break, are you?"

Y/N smiles down at him, a mixture of innocence and wickedness that drives him wild. She reaches forward, tangling her fingers in his disheveled curls and gripping firmly enough to elicit a hiss of pleasure from him.

"You said you never say no," she reminds him, tugging gently on his hair. "I'm just testing that theory."

Harry's laugh is low and gravelly as his hands slide up her thighs to grip her hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh with possessive intent.

"By all means," he drawls, licking his lips in anticipation, "test away."

He helps guide her forward until she's hovering just above his mouth, her grip on his hair tightening as she positions herself exactly where she wants to be. Harry's eager breath ghosts over her sensitive flesh, making her shiver in anticipation.

"Greedy girl," he murmurs appreciatively, his eyes locked with hers from between her thighs. "Still want more after two orgasms? What am I going to do with you?"

Before she can respond, Harry grips her hips firmly and pulls her down to his waiting mouth. The first broad stroke of his tongue has Y/N gasping, her head falling back as pleasure shoots through her still-sensitive body.

"Oh god," she moans, her fingers reflexively tightening in his hair.

Harry groans against her in response, the vibration adding another layer of sensation. His tongue works with practiced skill, alternating between broad strokes and precise flicks against her clit. His grip on her hips is firm but not restrictive, allowing her to rock against his mouth at her own pace.

"That's it," he encourages briefly, barely pulling away before diving back in. "Use my mouth, baby. Take what you need."

Y/N begins to move more deliberately, rolling her hips against his talented tongue. The visual of Harry Styles, global superstar, heartthrob to millions, eagerly pleasuring her with his mouth while she essentially rides his face is almost as arousing as the physical sensation itself.

Harry's enthusiasm is palpable, his groans of pleasure vibrating against her most sensitive parts. His hands slide around to grip her ass, encouraging her movements as he devours her with single-minded focus. The combination of his skilled tongue, the slight scratch of stubble against her inner thighs, and the way he's looking up at her with pure hunger in his eyes quickly pushes Y/N toward another peak.

"Harry," she gasps, her thighs beginning to tremble around his head. "I'm close already."

He responds by doubling his efforts, his tongue circling her clit with precise pressure before sucking gently on the sensitive bundle of nerves. The sudden increase in intensity has Y/N crying out, her grip on his curls bordering on painful as her orgasm builds rapidly.

"Don't stop," she pleads, her voice breaking as she feels herself teetering on the edge. "Please don't stop."

Harry has no intention of stopping. His hands tighten on her ass, holding her firmly against his mouth as he works her toward her peak. When he feels her begin to tremble in earnest, he slides two fingers inside her, curling them forward to hit exactly the right spot as his tongue continues its relentless attention to her clit.

The dual stimulation is too much. Y/N comes with a broken cry of his name, her body shuddering violently as pleasure crashes through her in waves. Harry groans against her, the vibration prolonging her orgasm as he continues to work her through it, easing up only when her oversensitized body begins to pull away.

As the intense pleasure subsides, Y/N's grip on his hair loosens. Her body feels boneless, utterly spent as she shakily lifts herself from his face. Harry looks up at her with undisguised satisfaction, his lips and chin glistening with evidence of both her pleasure and their earlier activities. The sight should be obscene, but on him, it's nothing short of glorious.

"Still think I might say no?" he asks with a cocky smirk, swiping his thumb across his lower lip before sucking it clean with deliberate showmanship.

Y/N laughs breathlessly, collapsing beside him on the bed. "I think you've made your point."

Harry rolls to his side, propping himself on one elbow to look down at her with affectionate amusement.

"Three times," he says proudly, counting off on his fingers. "That's one more than you demanded earlier. Always exceeding expectations, me."

Y/N rolls her eyes at his self-satisfaction, though she can't suppress her smile. "You're insufferable."

"Ah, but you suffer me so well," he counters, echoing his earlier words as he leans down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. "And I'd say you just reaped the benefits of my particular brand of suffering."

She smacks his chest lightly, though there's no real force behind it. "Your ego is almost as big as your—"

"Heart?" Harry suggests with a waggle of his eyebrows, cutting her off. "Talent? Collection of Gucci boots?"

Y/N laughs, the sound full of genuine joy and affection. "All of the above."

Harry's expression softens as he gazes down at her, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from her face with surprising tenderness.

"Only for you, love," he murmurs, his voice losing its teasing edge. "Only ever for you."

He pulls her into his arms, arranging them so she's tucked against his chest, her back to his front in their favorite sleeping position. His lips press a gentle kiss to the nape of her neck as his arm wraps possessively around her waist.

"Now get some sleep," he whispers against her skin. "Because I fully intend to wake you up in a few hours for round two."

Y/N smiles sleepily, already feeling herself drifting off in the safety of his embrace. "I thought this was already round two?"

Harry's soft chuckle vibrates against her back. "Baby, we're just getting started."

Taglist: @triski73 @angeldavis777 @ivegotthecinemaa @bethiegurl19 @sstylezzz @spargelhund @myfavfanficsever @spinnic @catmomstyles3 @mads3502

[dilfenthusiast-union]

The Suffocation is the Best Part

Joshua “Josh” Washington x Reader

Another one. Look at that nose. I don’t see enough face sitting happening to it.

Content includes depictions of oral sex (f receiving) face sitting, afab anatomy, brief mention of smothering and weight. Feedback is appreciated!

“Ride.. ride my face.” Josh begs following his climax, chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“I beg your pardon?” you revel, eyebrows furrowing and eyelids widening in harmonious shock at Josh’s demand.

“Seriously. Ride my face, sit on my nose, babe. It’s big for a reason.” he teases, raising his eyebrows suggestively paired with a smirk as he scans your naked form with half lidded eyes.

“What if I suffocate you? Am I not heavy?” You question with concern weighing down your words.

“Babe.. The suffocation is the best part” his smirk grows into a mischievous grin as he wraps his large, veiny hands around your thighs, bringing you to hover over his face. Your thighs quiver in anxiety and anticipation, Josh notices. “Relax, babe. Even if you smother me… honestly, I think that’s a great way to go out” he brings you to sit on his nose before you can make any rebuttals. His pupils dilate as he laps up your juices from your glistening folds, taking in the salty flavours and sticky consistency.

Josh hums in satisfaction, his grip tightening around your thighs. The vibrations of his verbal affirmations send tingles through the entirety of your body, lingering in your stomach. The sensations make you unconsciously rock back and forth on Josh’s face.

The bridge of his nose rubs at your vulva, combined with his tongue lapping at your hypersensitive buds. It sends currents of pleasure through you, rendering you weak.

“Holy shit..” you gasp, mouth agape. Your eyelids squeeze shut and your brows furrow as you reach for the headboard to keep you balanced. “Fuck, god, Josh that feels so good”, you weakly let out. He replies with another vocalisation against your vulva, sending yet another wave of pleasure through you.

As you keep rocking against his tongue and nose, the butterflies your stomach bundle up the more he thrusts his tongue into you. Josh starts using pure strength to have you thrust up and down on his face, the bridge of his nose creating friction that only tightens the coil in your stomach.

Josh starts humming in pleasure at your clit gracefully slamming on his face, giving him a pornographic view of your chest as it bounces with every movement. The vibrations of Josh’s humming sends a final jolt of pleasure through you, as your knuckles turn white from clinging to the headboard. Creamy, sticky cum coats Josh’s mouth as his tongue laps up any remnants.

You collapse on the mattress next to Josh, both of you catching your breath. You glisten with sweat and your muscle fibres ache, especially your quads. Breaking the silent rhythm of heavy breaths, you prop yourself on your elbows and turn to Josh,

“Babe, I don’t think it’s the suffocation that’s the best part.”

[limerlove]

divine intervention, a higher power, some type of god looking above us threatening to crush human kind with an obedient hand — it’s what you think of as violet brushes her teeth in front of your bathroom sink— the mirror showcasing her god-esque reflection. flourished by love, renewed by white roses and promise, renewal of optimistic promise floods her with every look she throws your way.

cursed by perfection by the gods who created us. the muscles of her back contract with each slight of movement, the black ink mesmerizes your line of vision, she quickly catches your eye as you step out of the shower, body glistens from steam, droplets falling on the blindingly white marble floors.

easily, you ditch the towel hanging on the metal hook before stalking violet as if she's the prey you desperately need to sink your teeth into.

“we’re supposed to be leaving soon.” but violet doesn’t believe it, not when you’re giving her that in-disposable gaze, eyes saturated with lost as the need revives within you like gasoline on raging fire.

bare as the day you were born, you hop onto the counter top, vi spits the remainder of toothpaste coating her breath minty fresh. “or we could not.”

carefully, spreading your legs open for her, vi groans, not caring when her towel loses it’s hold around her waist, exposing the pink bush coming from her the muscular v-shaped line, leading you into what you’re craving most.

“we’re already gonna be late as it is. this isn’t helping, princess.”

“but all i wanna do is help.” you pout, feigning concern as vi slids herself between your legs and just like that she’s caught in your venus fly trap.

“baby, that’s nice but, ahhh—”

fingers she should have been prepared for glide over her slick pussy, your digits gathering the golden honey wealth, coating your skin thicker with each stroke.

“shit, you shouldn’t, we have to—”

“what? go? or come?” vi curses at herself before she drops her damn strands of pink against your shoulder, whimpering as you slide two fingers inside her soft walls, “two every different things, violet. i’ll give you a third option, yeah? how does me staying inside work? is that good for you, baby?”

“yeahhh, you know it is.” violet crumbles, hips bucking forward as she reaches down, playing with her clit as your fingers make home in her soaked pussy as she falls under your spell. each slight of your hand is a hex to her psyche, a reminder of what belongs to you, what only you can do.

what only you can make her feel.

“you’re just too pretty to not to fuck, baby. do you know that? how much i adore you, how much i treasure you — that i would do anything to make my babygirl happy?”

the words feel like a symphony to violet, her clit throbbing intensely as you flick her hand away, circling dramatic circles against the the pearly bundle of nerves. the tables have shifted, you have her right where you so damn well please, and violet submits to you with all the love her heart possess.

a tidal wave of reassurance coats her skin as the comfort of your wave wraps her up, as soothing as a warm blanket on a frosty night. the ice within her is gone and all she feels is warm, saturated heat. violet sobs into your neck as you fuck her through the impossible high, powder-blue eyes sob find a flood within them and the dam releases when you tell her much you love her. pussy and heart in harmony as affirmations of love are whispered in her ear, all else is forgotten.

it's all it takes for two infinitely promised lovers to melt for the other, transcending anything full of purpose, a pair of futures blending into an uncontrollable tsuamni of unknowns, trapped in the iron fist of nothing more than reduced to a blinding heat until a trail is discovered, a soulmates path to intertwined perfection.

violet's stuck and begging for more as she rides out each thrust of your fingers, a cracked shred of her whimpers echo throughout the walls. for a moment, you wonder if it's phantom, a moment plucked from your imagination but the skin of her inner thigh feels softer than her calloused hands. it's welcoming each graze of your blunt fingertip, begging for more of whatever she's willing to give.

almost as if your knees bend at the pew in a cathedral, she pleads for mercy, sharp teeth marking your shoulder with territorial need. then, violet falls. every sturdy and strong muscles becomes limp, blindful trust full of passionate love surrounds her heart until she has nothing else to give. this is all she's ever wanted.

to be truly yours.

[uniquexusposts]

First place. Personal best. World Champion. | C. Leclerc

Summary: Charles' girlfriend Y/n is about to win her first world championship title in speed skating. While Charles is preparing for his first race of the season at the other side of the world, the supportive boyfriend he is, he will be watching Y/n's race. And who knows what happens...

It was raining in The Netherlands, the weather was grey and depressing. Inside the speed skating arena, however, the air crackled with a different kind of energy.

The crowd buzzed with anticipation, their cheers echoing off the cavernous walls, creating a symphony of excitement and nerves. Y/n took a deep breath as she glided onto the ice, the smooth surface reflecting the bright arena lights. This wasn’t just another race; this was the race. The culmination of years of blood, sweat, and tears. Her last chance to claim the coveted all-around title of this year, the year before the Olympics - a prize she never got before by just a few points. 

She skated around the oval stadium, each warm-up lap a battle to quell the butterflies in her stomach. Her breath came in controlled bursts, visible in the cool air, as she moved with practiced grace. Her mind cycled through every strategy, every training session, every ounce of advice her coaches had given her. Stopping near the start line, she shrugged off her jacket, exposing the sleek Norwegian team suit beneath. The red and blue colours clung to her like a second skin, a symbol of the weight she carried; not just her own dreams but the hopes of her country.

Her teammates, already finished with their events, were doing an out lap. A couple of Norwegian flags waved fervently in the sea of spectators, a visual reminder of the expectations she had to meet. Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted her suit, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her focus.

Meanwhile, thousands of kilometres away in Bahrain, the roar of engines filled the Ferrari garage. Mechanics darted around, checking tire pressures, tweaking wing angles, and adjusting suspension settings. The first Formula 1 race of the season was hours away, but for Charles Leclerc, time felt like it was standing still. Amid the organised chaos, his attention was locked on a tablet screen perched precariously on a counter. The live stream of Y/n’s race played on the monitor, an unusual sight among the telemetry data and glossy feeds of the Bahrain International Circuit.

Charles tapped his foot impatiently, his eyes flicking between the screen and the bustling garage. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath, as though the force of his will could carry her across the finish line.

“Charles,” Andrea called, nudging his shoulder with a knowing smirk. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor at this rate. Should we tell the team to set up a fan zone for you?”

Charles let out a soft chuckle, though his eyes didn’t leave the screen. “She’s got a real shot at this,” he said, his voice tinged with both pride and anxiety. “I’m not missing this for anything. Not even qualifying.”

Andrea shook his head, his grin widening. “Just don’t let Fred catch you slacking. He’ll have you polishing the car with a toothbrush.”

Charles waved him off dismissively, his focus unshakable. On the screen, Y/n moved toward the start line, her every movement purposeful and elegant. Seeing her in that moment, framed by a couple of Norwegian flags waving in the background - but mostly the orange colour by the Dutch, who once again dominated a sport, sent a rush of adrenaline through him. She was breathtaking, not just in her beauty but in the sheer determination radiating from her.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the arena, signalling the imminent start of the race. Y/n crouched low at the line, her muscles coiled like a spring ready to release. Charles leaned forward, his hand gripping the counter so tightly his knuckles turned white. The gunshot rang out, and she launched forward, her blades cutting into the ice with surgical precision.

Lap after lap, Y/n found her rhythm, her movements a harmonious blend of power and grace. The crowd’s cheers grew louder with each stride, the energy in the arena reaching a fever pitch. One thing that was so different between speed skating and F1 was that during speed skating, everybody cheered for anyone - no matter the country. Y/n received almost as much cheers as the Dutch at this point. Charles’s heart raced in tandem with her, his pulse quickening as the live splits appeared on the screen. The numbers were good - very good - but the competition was fierce.

“Come on, Y/n,” Charles whispered, his voice barely audible above the ambient noise of the garage. His fingers tapped an anxious rhythm on the counter as he watched her push herself to the limit.

By the halfway mark, the strain began to show. Her form wavered ever so slightly, the tiniest falter in her otherwise flawless stride. The 5.000 meters wasn’t just a test of speed; it was a brutal battle of endurance, a gruelling test of both mental and physical fortitude. Charles’s jaw clenched as he saw her dig deep, her determination etched into every muscle of her body.

“She’s improving her laps,” Charles muttered, running his hands through his hair. His voice grew louder, filled with a mixture of disbelief and awe. “She’s above her schedule. 32,3 per lap. What the hell?”

Andrea glanced at the screen, his eyebrows raising in mild surprise. “She’s flying. She has the green times.”

“She is literally pushing out every bit of strength she has left.”

The crowd in the arena roared louder with every passing lap, their energy palpable even through the screen. Charles’s fingers drummed faster, mirroring the rising tension. As Y/n crossed the finish line, the scoreboard lit up with her time: the fastest so far. Charles leapt to his feet, a triumphant shout escaping his lips.

“Yes! That’s my girl!” he exclaimed, his voice ringing through the garage.

The Ferrari crew paused their work, momentarily caught up in the infectious excitement. Laughter and scattered applause broke out, a rare lighthearted moment in the high-stakes world of Formula 1.

Andrea clapped him on the back, a teasing grin on his face. “She’s not done yet, mate. Two more pairs to go.��

“I know,” Charles said, his grin unwavering. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “But she’s incredible. No matter what happens, I’m proud of her.” He shook his head in disbelief. “6.50,81. Wow.”

Just over seven minutes later, the final pair took to the ice, their presence a reminder that the battle wasn’t over. The Dutch were strong and a favourite. Charles’s chest tightened as he watched them glide effortlessly through their opening laps. They were fast, too fast. The live splits showed them ahead of Y/n’s time, and for a moment, doubt crept in.

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Hold on.”

The skaters rounded the halfway mark, their initial burst of speed beginning to wane. Fatigue crept into their movements, their strides losing the precision that had carried them so far. Charles leaned forward, his breath hitching as he willed the seconds to slow.

The arena fell into a tense hush as the final skaters approached the finish line. The crowd’s collective gasp was audible as the scoreboard flashed their time: third place. Y/n had done it. She was the all-around champion.

Charles let out a triumphant yell, throwing his arms into the air. “She did it! She won!”

The garage erupted into cheers, the crew swept up in his infectious joy. Charles’s face was alight with pride and happiness, his grin so wide it hurt.

“That’s my girl,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

His colleagues congratulated and hugged him like he won the race. 

Andrea smirked, shaking his head. “You’re going to be impossible to deal with for the rest of the day, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Charles replied, laughing. His heart felt full to bursting as he imagined the look on Y/n’s face, the moment she realised what she had accomplished.

Back in the Netherlands, Y/n sat in the middle of the oval track, still in disbelief. Tears blurred her vision, but they couldn’t hide the overwhelming sight of the scoreboard. Her name flashed boldly at the top, accompanied by the words she had dreamed of seeing her entire career: World Champion.

Her coaches rushed to her side, their voices a mix of congratulations and excitement, but their words were lost beneath the deafening roar of the crowd. The arena was alive with celebration.

Y/n pressed her hands to her face, laughing and crying at the same time. She reached out instinctively, pulling her head coach into an embrace, her laughter bubbling uncontrollably.

“I did it,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “I actually did it.”

Her assistant coach joined in; the three people were jumping around, turning it into an euphoric moment. 

“You’ve done it, Y/n!” her head coach shouted over the roar of the crowd. “The all-around title is yours!”

Still clutching onto her coaches, Y/n’s gaze drifted upward to the scoreboard once more, as if she needed to see it again to believe it. First place. Personal best. World Champion. A new World Champion.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she began to fully grasp the magnitude of her achievement.

As she stood there, absorbing the cheers of the crowd and the joy of her team, one of her assistant coaches jogged up to her with a phone in hand.

“Y/n! Charles is calling!”

The sound of his name made her heart leap. She whipped her head around, taking the phone with trembling hands. When the screen lit up, Charles’s face appeared, his grin so wide it practically stretched off the screen.

“Y/n!” Charles cheered, his voice carrying a joy that matched her own.

“Charles!” Y/n screamed, laughing as her emotions spilled over. She couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks, her voice cracking with excitement. “I did it!”

“I saw!” he exclaimed, his voice loud enough to make the team around him chuckle. “You were incredible! I can’t believe it - no, wait, I can believe it because you’re amazing!”

Y/n’s cheeks burned as she laughed, her joy mirrored in his expression. Around her, the arena seemed to fade away, the roaring crowd becoming a distant hum. In that moment, it was just her and Charles, their connection bridging the thousands of kilometres between them.

“You were watching?” she asked, her voice soft but tinged with disbelief.

“Of course I was!” Charles replied, his tone almost offended at the notion he wouldn’t be. “I had the entire Ferrari garage watching. They’re all clapping for you, by the way.”

Y/n’s hand flew to her mouth, and she let out a breathless laugh. “You’re joking.”

“Not at all,” Charles said, leaning closer to the screen. “Y/n, everyone here is in awe of you. I’m so proud I could burst. You deserve every second of this moment.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, but this time, they weren’t just tears of victory. They were tears of gratitude, of love. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve someone who believed in her this deeply, but she was endlessly thankful.

“I wish you were here,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

“I do too,” he said, his tone softening, a hint of longing slipping through. “But I’ll see you soon. We’ll celebrate properly, I promise.”

“You would better keep that promise, Leclerc,” she teased, a smile breaking through her tears. “And you better win today!”

“I wouldn’t dare break it,” he replied with a laugh, his eyes warm. “I will do my best.”

She dried her eyes and laughed. “I have to go to the ceremony, Charles. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I will be watching.”

Y/n nodded, but she didn’t end the call right away. She held the phone a moment longer, committing the sight of his proud smile to memory.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @ironmaiden1313 @blodwyn4u @sltwins @heart-trees @npcmia @llando4norris

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter three ♡

Summary: Life seems to smooth out with Travis, but an encounter with another Miller stirs your feelings again. Joel comes home at night, and a box waits for him at the kitchen. Word count: 4.8k A/N: Here is a shorter chapter (compared to the previous ones lol) while we're waiting for part 4… Can't wait for the Hoffman's barbecue. Joel isn't usually enthusiastic about it, but something tells me he's not going to miss it this time. ALSO, I have tried to tag all of you, but for some reason some tags don't work, if anyone knows how to fix it please let me know <3.

October 17th. The first thing you discovered was a black sweatshirt, crumpled and forgotten, stuffed in the back of your closet among old clothes and memories. You tossed it into the washing machine and set off to search your house for more of Joel’s things. It didn’t take long to find remnants of him: an old Pearl Jam T-shirt, a white mug bearing his initial that you’d pilfered a few months prior, a couple of CDs with his eclectic taste in music, a well-worn paperback novel, and a screwdriver—the very tool you had used to assemble the small piece of furniture for your bathroom, a testament to your attempts at domesticity.

You placed the T-shirt beside the sweatshirt in the washing machine, feeling a bittersweet nostalgia wash over you as the machine began to spin, the water swirling like your thoughts. The rest of his belongings you carefully set aside in a wooden box, considering when and if you would return them to him. Maybe it would be a gesture of goodwill, a way to close a chapter, but the thought of confronting him felt daunting, like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Three weeks later, the distance felt like a weight in your chest. You hadn’t spoken since that last conversation, and every accidental encounter with him had turned into a delicate dance of avoidance, your eyes darting away as if to shield yourself from the unspoken pain. You suspected he was doing the same—his awareness of your schedule precise, his movements deliberate. You didn’t blame him for it; there was a strange gratitude in the space he had created between you, a sanctuary that allowed both of you to breathe.

Sarah, on the other hand, was a constant presence in your life, her visits frequent and welcome. You couldn’t decipher what Joel had shared with her, but she was unequivocal in her understanding that something had shifted between you and her father. 

“Dad said I can come see you as long as I don’t ask too many questions and I don’t fall asleep,” she announced brightly the first afternoon she bounded into your home, just two days after your last exchange with Joel. “But I want you to know I won’t say anything if you want to tell me everything.” 

Her offer was a balm, and despite the lingering pain, you found yourself laughing, the weight lifting slightly as you embraced her. In that moment, you felt relieved to know that Joel had managed to compartmentalize, that his daughter was not to bear the burden of your heartbreak, nor was she responsible for the fallout. You wanted to continue seeing Sarah, and thankfully, she wanted to keep coming over, a small beacon of normalcy in a turbulent time. That connection remained untainted by the rift between you and Joel.

The clock ticked on, and now it was five o’clock on a crisp afternoon. You stood in your front yard, the late autumn sun warming the back of your neck as you surveyed your plants. Closing your eyes, you savored the gentle warmth, the way it wrapped around you like a familiar embrace. Your lawn and those of your neighbors glowed with the fiery hues of orange and yellow, leaves fluttering like confetti in the soft breeze. It was, as always, your favorite season.

Suddenly, a voice broke through your reverie, calling your name. You turned to see Travis crossing the street, his smile brightening the drab fall afternoon. You waved back, unable to suppress a smile of your own as he approached.

“Enjoying the sunshine?” he asked, stopping beside you, his hand settling on your waist as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek.

“As much as I can,” you replied, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and surprising. Your gaze dropped momentarily to your feet before lifting back to meet his. “Going somewhere?”

“On a quest for dessert,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Care to join?”

You hesitated, considering for a moment. “I’d better stay and get some work done,” you replied, gesturing toward your front door with a tilt of your head. “But let me know when you get back; I’d love to help with dinner.”

He nodded, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face before he masked it with a smile. After a brief goodbye, he left, giving your waist a gentle squeeze that sent a flutter through your stomach, leaving you feeling both elated and unsettled.

Two weeks prior, you had watched him run past your house, clad in sports gear, hair damp with sweat. There was something magnetic about him; he looked so effortlessly good that a rush of something—determination? Recklessness?—had surged through you. You couldn’t let your past with Joel hold you hostage any longer. It was absurd to keep Travis waiting, simply because you hadn’t been sure of what you felt, or how you should feel. So, you had gathered your courage and knocked on his door, your heart racing at the thought of stepping out of the shadows of your previous life.

When Travis opened the door, his surprise morphing into delight had made your resolve solidify. You’d admitted to him that you were navigating a rough patch, and to his credit, he seemed to understand without pressuring you further. That night, he whisked you away for dinner, and in the weeks that followed, the ease of your time together became a welcome reprieve. 

He was everything you needed—funny, honest, and refreshingly straightforward. He laid his feelings out without demanding anything from you, giving you space to breathe, to recalibrate. You had shared meals together, enjoying his company, indulging in laughter and sweet treats that he always brought, knowing they were your guilty pleasure. 

With him, everything felt uncomplicated, and the more time you spent together, the more you sensed your feelings beginning to shift, like the autumn leaves around you. That night, you resolved to let him make the first move, ready to embrace whatever came next.

*

“What did you think?” Travis asked, his gaze lingering on you, as if the answer might reveal something bigger.

You let out a laugh, the kind that builds in the chest and escapes before you can decide whether it’s actually funny or just absurd. “That was… utterly ridiculous,” you said, watching the movie credits roll up the screen. “Ridiculous and completely unbelievable.”

He grinned, sinking back into the couch beside you, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of shared amusement. “Right? It’s like... a marvel in chaos. Terrible, but in a way that you can’t look away.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of disbelief and fondness for his strange taste in movies. Zombeavers. He’d made you watch Zombeavers—a movie so bizarrely nonsensical that you couldn’t help but laugh half the time, its zombie-beaver puppets meant to be terrifying but only succeeding in being bizarre. He’d assured you beforehand that it was purely for fun, the kind of film that didn’t demand to be taken seriously, and you’d been dubious but willing.

As your laughter softened, you shifted just a little closer to him, that familiar but thrilling nervousness making your heart flutter. Travis had turned his attention to scrolling through movie options, his fingers lightly tapping the remote as he concentrated. For a brief moment, you hesitated, wondering if it was obvious—how close you were, how much you wanted him to notice. Gathering your courage, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting your gaze drift up to his face just as he glanced down, his eyes softening.

“Are you sleepy, pretty girl?” he murmured, and his voice had that gentle, familiar warmth that made you feel like a teenager again. Your cheeks flushed, and you wondered if he could feel your pulse quicken against him.

“No,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you smiled up at him. Tentatively, you lifted a hand to trace the line of his jaw, your fingers grazing his skin as you tilted his face closer. “I just like being with you.”

Travis’s smile deepened, and he leaned in, his hand cradling your face with such tenderness that it nearly broke something in you. His lips met yours softly, a gentle touch, unhurried and respectful, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. You sank into the kiss, letting it ground you, feeling cherished and safe in a way you hadn’t for a long time.

But there, at the edge of your mind, was Joel. Joel with his intense, almost possessive hunger, the way he’d kiss you as if he were afraid he’d never have the chance again. That rawness, the recklessness—it was such a stark contrast to Travis’s gentle control, his restraint. And part of you hated yourself for even thinking about it, for craving something so reckless, for missing what you knew wasn’t good for you.

You pulled back slowly, afraid that your eyes might betray the swirl of conflicting feelings inside you. Travis’s gaze lingered, his hand still on your cheek, and he seemed almost reluctant to let you go, waiting for you to guide him back in. His patience was admirable, though you felt a strange frustration at the lack of urgency, the careful distance he maintained.

“I’m actually a little tired,” you said, giving him a quick peck on the lips, hoping he wouldn’t see through the slight restlessness in your eyes. “But I’d love to see you tomorrow. How about dinner at my place?”

He nodded, his face brightening. “Sounds perfect.” He stood, reaching out a hand to help you up. “I’ll walk you to your door, and that's just an excuse for another goodnight kiss.”

You laughed, reaching for his hand and letting him pull you up, feeling the warmth of his arm around you as you leaned against him. Outside, the air was brisk, the night cool against your skin, and you wished you’d thought to bring a jacket. Not that it mattered much; Travis lived just across the block, a short walk away, but close enough to Joel’s house that the proximity always felt strange. 

Crossing the street, you noticed Joel’s truck wasn’t there, and you willed yourself not to dwell on it, tuning back in to Travis’s voice as he asked, “Are you going?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Going where?” you asked, your voice apologetic. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“To the Hoffmans’ barbecue,” he said easily, unbothered by your momentary distraction.

Ah, the Hoffmans’ annual Halloween gathering, an event known for Brenda’s culinary enthusiasm and Ian’s grill mastery. Last year, Brenda had baked an array of spooky treats—eyeball jellies, spider cupcakes, you name it. Sarah had devoured at least ten jelly eyes, and you’d indulged in an uncountable number of chocolate spiders. The evening had ended with a viewing of Nightmare on Elm Street, and everyone had left buzzing with laughter and sugar.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, nodding with more enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t miss it. Brenda is amazing at baking. Have you tried her red berry cupcakes?”

“They’re dangerous,” Travis agreed, grinning as he walked you up to your doorstep.

A flicker of movement caught your eye, and you glanced over to see Tommy, Joel’s brother, sitting on the front porch of Joel’s house, a cigarette hanging lazily from his fingers. He watched you with a friendly, knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back, though you quickened your pace slightly as you reached your door.

“So, what time tomorrow?” Travis asked, tilting his head.

“Eight?” you suggested, feeling an odd mix of excitement and unease.

“Perfect,” he replied, and once again his hand lifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the curve softly. But as he leaned in to kiss you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of invisible eyes from across the street, watching. Your mind lingered, unbidden, on Tommy’s piercing gaze.

Travis leaned down, and you met his kiss, brief, almost rushed, pulling away with a small, nervous smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered, glancing up at him before stepping back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he murmured.

You stood watching him leave, distractedly thinking about the evening you'd spent. You were annoyed that you hadn't accepted his date earlier, and at the same time, you didn't blame yourself too much. 

When Travis walked into his house and closed the door, an involuntary sigh escaped your chest.

"Everything okay over there?" Tommy’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts, sounding like a splash of cold water. He was sitting on the front steps, watching you with a casual curiosity that somehow felt entirely too knowing.

You approached slowly, glancing toward the empty entrance of Joel’s house.

"Hey, Tommy," you greeted, a hint of melancholy coloring your voice. It was strange, seeing him here alone—another Miller, but not the one who lingered in your mind. "How are you?"

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette on the step, shrugging with a small grin. "Well, currently on a break from babysitting duty," he joked. "What about you? It’s been a while—what’d Joel do now?"

A chuckle slipped from your lips, the irony of it all making your stomach tighten. He probably didn’t know anything, yet he’d been part of Joel’s carefully built wall of deception. It made you feel odd, but you brushed the feeling aside.

"I've just been busy," you said, knowing how unconvincing it sounded.

Tommy nodded, understanding the subtext without question. "Right," he said, an amused smile forming, "So, Dunn got the girl?"

You couldn’t help but smile back, though you realized too late that your openness might be ill-placed. "Yeah. He’s a good man. I really like him."

It felt surreal, sharing this with Joel’s brother, but somehow you didn’t mind.

"Sarah’s asleep?" you asked, changing the subject, hoping for some distraction.

He nodded, his smile softening. "Out like a light right after dinner. Poor kid didn’t even try the ice cream she begged me to get for movie night." He chuckled, shaking his head.

You smiled at the image, letting yourself savor the thought of Sarah, the cozy living room, the quiet warmth that had always drawn you to this house. It felt bittersweet, like glimpsing a life you no longer fit into. The last time you’d been there flickered in your mind, and any warmth vanished.

When you glanced back at Tommy, he was watching you, brow furrowed slightly, as if trying to read what you weren’t saying.

"I don’t mean to pry," he began cautiously, his tone gentle. "But Joel’s been… well, intolerable lately. Can I ask what happened?"

You raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile creeping onto your lips. "Sure, Tommy," you replied, a touch of sarcasm bleeding through. "He hasn’t told you anything?"

"Are you kidding?" He laughed, shaking his head. "I asked him once, a couple of days ago, and he practically bit my head off."

You let out a dry sigh, crossing your arms. "He lied to me, pretty sure you know about that," you said, feeling the weight of it again. "We argued, and… things just happened."

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly, but the look of surprise faded quickly, replaced by a knowing smile. He stood up, crossing his arms as he stepped closer, his gaze amused and unrelenting.

"I knew it," he said, his grin widening. "You two slept together."

Your mouth fell open, and you dropped your arms, an incredulous laugh escaping.

"Shut up," you muttered, taking a step forward, cheeks flushing.

Tommy laughed, as if this moment had been a long time coming. "I always knew it would happen," he said, his tone only half-joking. "Ever since Joel introduced you, I swear, the guy had heart eyes and all. Poor guy looked like he was about to carve your name into every tree from here to the city limits. It was almost embarrassing."

You shook your head, a pang of sadness pressing on your chest. "That’s not it, Tommy. That’s not… it’s not true."

He studied you, unconvinced, his brow furrowing slightly, though the amused glint remained in his eyes.

"Joel doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want… us," you continued, your voice quiet but certain. "And honestly, I don’t think I do either." The words tasted bitter even as you said them, yet you held his gaze, determined to mean it. "I think I might actually like Travis."

"I see." Tommy’s nod was slow, his eyes searching yours as if detecting the truth you weren’t quite hiding.

“Where is he?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and you almost wished you could take it back. You shouldn’t be concerned about where Joel was spending his nights. But curiosity itched at you, demanding answers.

Tommy hesitated, rubbing his hand over his mouth, glancing off as if debating whether to answer. The pause made you anxious, and you shifted under his gaze, feeling exposed. "He, um, he went to see—"

"Sienna," you finished, the name coming out like a blade you hadn’t prepared for. Tommy’s nod confirmed it, and you felt it cut a little deeper than you’d anticipated.

The thought of Joel being with her after being with you twisted something fierce and raw inside. Yet, a part of you was oddly grateful for the pain; it reminded you just how little he’d been affected by all of this, how seamlessly he’d returned to life as it had been. Why should he have changed anything for one night? That didn’t mean enough to make him reconsider Sienna, his plans, his life without you. It was unbearable and somehow clarifying.

With your voice steadier than you expected, you looked back at Tommy. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Come with me for a second." You spun on your heel, heading toward your house, and you heard Tommy’s footsteps fall into step behind you. Inside, you gestured for him to wait in the foyer, then climbed the stairs, your heart pounding. A rush of resentment, of something close to fury, washed over you. You had to rid yourself of everything that still held you back to him, everything he’d left behind.

When you came back down, you were carrying a box, simple and impersonal. Tommy glanced at it, lifting an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"A couple of Joel’s things. Be a dear and save me the trip of bringing them back to him." You smiled tightly, the effort to stay composed nearly exhausting you.

Tommy laughed, clearly amused by the defiance in your expression.

"Yes, ma’am," he said with a grin, giving you a small salute as he took the box. You watched him step over the threshold, the box in his hands, feeling a strange mix of relief and something hollow.

"Thank you, Tommy," you said softly, closing the door as he left. Alone in the quiet of your house, your shoulders slumped, and all the strength you’d gathered felt like it was leaking away, leaving behind the ache of realization. Joel wasn’t just far from you; he was unreachable, a memory already fading, three weeks stretching like an eternity between you and the friend he’d once been.

*

Joel opened the door slowly, shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping to the floor before he even stepped inside. The house was dark and quiet, as if it were waiting for him to finally fill it. He glanced around the empty living room, feeling the stillness of the space, then checked the time on his wristwatch: 11 p.m. It felt later than that, somehow.

“Tommy?” he called, his voice breaking the silence as he moved into the kitchen, where he found his brother, casually leaning against the counter with a bowl of ice cream, looking like he’d been waiting all night.

“How was your night?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone almost amused, as if he were privy to some unspoken secret.

Joel exhaled, the kind of tired sigh that settled deep in his chest, and dropped heavily into one of the wooden chairs at the table. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, dragging it down over his mouth before resting it on the table, the weariness of the day palpable in the lines of his face. His eyes met Tommy’s probing gaze, and he tilted his head, frowning slightly.

“Fine,” he replied, his tone clipped and a little defensive. “How was Sarah?”

“She conked out right after dinner,” Tommy replied, a smirk beginning to play at the corners of his mouth, his eyes narrowing with that look of brotherly mischief. “And how was Sienna?”

Joel rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair, shaking his head as if he could shake off the whole conversation.

“Are you staying over?” he asked after a few beats, redirecting, his voice carefully casual.

Tommy chuckled. “Only if you, sir, will permit me,” he replied with a mock salute.

“Fine,” Joel muttered, getting up from his seat. “Do what you want, but don’t be a pain in my ass,” he added, half-serious, half-amused, as he walked over to the counter beside his brother.

He pulled open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. Tommy watched him, saying nothing, but his gaze lingered, curious, perceptive. Joel poured water into a glass, bringing it to his lips, pausing for a long drink before turning to face his brother. He could feel Tommy’s gaze boring into him, the silence thickening between them.

Joel looked up, his own gaze steady.

“What?” he asked, the word flat, all pretense of patience gone.

“Nothing,” Tommy said, drawing the word out, clearly testing the limits of Joel’s patience. Then, almost too casually, he tilted his chin toward a box resting by the wall across the kitchen.

Joel followed his gaze, his brow furrowing as he walked over. He lifted the box, feeling the weight of it in his hands, then set it down on the counter. With a cautious look at Tommy, he placed his hands on the lid, hesitating.

“What’s this?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Tommy leaned back, watching him with a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Your girl next door gave it to me,” he replied, each word almost too measured. “Said it was yours.”

For a few moments, Joel just stood there, as if frozen, processing Tommy’s words. He looked down, finally lifting the lid and peering inside. There, neatly folded, was his sweatshirt—the one he’d handed you one chilly evening when he picked you up from work. Beneath that was his old Pearl Jam t-shirt, the one you’d borrowed after a swim in his pool last summer. His favorite coffee mug sat tucked in the corner, along with a few CDs, a dog-eared paperback he’d loaned you weeks ago. Each item seemed to carry its own little echo of the time he’d spent with you.

After a few seconds, Joel placed the lid back on the box, sliding it away from him with a muted thud. He kept his expression steady, but his jaw was set, and his eyes remained fixed on the counter.

“When did she give it to you?” he asked, his voice strained but steady.

“A few moments ago,” Tommy said with a shrug, holding back a smirk as he noticed the tightness in Joel’s expression. “Saw her walking back from Dunn’s house, actually.”

Joel let out a dry, sardonic laugh, a smile twisted in disbelief. "Right. Of course."

"Actually," Tommy said, savoring another spoonful of ice cream, "he walked her to the door, all sweet-like. Gave her the whole mushy goodnight routine—kiss, movie shit." His gaze stayed fixed on the bowl, though Joel could see the glint of mischief there, Tommy barely holding back a grin.

Joel’s fingers drummed on the counter, his gaze hardening. “Good for her,” he muttered.

Tommy didn’t look up, just continued with his ice cream, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sure she looked that way to me.”

“Like I care,” Joel muttered, his gaze fixed hard on the box beside him, fingers curling against the edge as if steadying himself. “I can bet everything I’ve got she doesn’t even like him that much. That guy isn’t worth it, and she knows it.” 

Tommy’s mouth quirked with amusement as he leaned back against the counter.

“Too bad that’s not up to you,” he said, casually pushing Joel’s buttons, almost like he enjoyed watching his brother’s patience fray. “She looked happy. And for what it’s worth, in her own words, she does like him.” 

Joel’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Tommy, as if by sheer force he could undo his brother’s last statement. “Wait—you asked her? Tommy, you better not be going around—” 

“Relax,” Tommy cut in, hands raised in mock surrender, though there was still a hint of smugness in his expression. “We just had a small conversation, okay? Didn’t even mention you.” 

Joel let out a sharp, bitter laugh, though his face betrayed a flicker of something raw. His fingers tapped the box, restless and resentful, as if it were the box’s fault for bringing up everything he didn’t want to admit. Then, his voice low and clipped, he gestured to the countertop. “Clean this up when you’re done,” he said, his tone rough. “And don’t piss me off.” 

Without another word, Joel turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, each step heavy and quick, like he couldn’t get away fast enough. The tension in his back, the way his shoulders held too much weight, said enough. Who did Tommy think he was, coming in here with all that, telling him things he didn’t need to hear? He didn’t care about any of it. As far as he was concerned, you could date Travis, marry him if that’s what you wanted. None of it mattered to him. 

But as he climbed the stairs two at a time, his mind raced against his will. You’d been clear, hadn’t you? You didn’t want him in your life. No friendship, no connection, nothing. The words echoed, hollow and yet heavy. And as he reached the top of the stairs, he wondered how many more nights he’d have to wrestle with that idea, struggling to wrap his head around a life where you were nothing more than a memory he had to stop revisiting.

The sooner he accepted it, the easier it would be to see you with Travis, to manage the surge of irritation at the thought of his hands on you, to ignore the image of his arm slung casually around your shoulders. If he could accept it—if he did accept it—it would get easier, right? At least that’s what he told himself. He didn’t care. Obviously, he didn’t care.

He didn’t care that you’d decided to shut him out. Didn’t care that you were so resolute about it, that you barely seemed to miss him. He certainly didn’t care that he’d rearranged his mornings and evenings so he wouldn’t have to see you by accident. It wasn’t as if he still glanced at your door every time he came home, half-hoping he’d see you there, offering a smile and some easy excuse to stay. No, he wasn’t dwelling on how long it had been since he’d heard your voice or felt the comfortable warmth of your hand against his. Nearly a month now. And he was perfectly fine with it, honestly. It didn’t bother him one bit.

So fine, in fact, that he ended things with Sienna over dinner without a moment’s hesitation. Her face had gone blank with surprise, but he’d brushed it off, even throwing in some lie about being “too busy” to make it work, anything to avoid her prying questions. She’d looked at him, confused but oddly resigned, as if she’d sensed his mind had been elsewhere for a while. He didn't care, he was fine with it.

But later that night,Travis Dunn had brought you to your door—walked you up, murmured something as he leaned close, maybe kissed you goodnight. Joel didn’t know the details, but the image of it burned into his mind anyway. He sat in his room alone, a bitter laugh escaping his throat, mocking himself for how easily he’d let the thought take root. You, wrapped up with Dunn. Pf.

In the darkness of his bedroom, Joel sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the empty space beside him, the silence amplifying every unspoken word, every unfulfilled touch. He was fine with it. Of course he was. He repeated it in his mind, willing himself to believe it, even as a hollow ache throbbed in his chest.

And as if the universe were doubling down on the irony, that night he dreamed of you.

-

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @maryfanson @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame @auteurdelabre

[jinx-xxed]

Rough Week

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; I needed some good ol’ fashioned cuddles and sleeping ☝️ this pic of him is one of my favs I Need to lay on him

Part of Written in the Stars

Summary; Kylo Ren has finally come back from a grueling mission. You help him relax.

Content; Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Commander reader, pure fluff, like sickeningly fluffy, Kylo’s exhausted, you let him rest, bonded to Kylo through the Force, lots of Force communication, cute/clingy/sleepy/soft Kylo, big guy needs a break, cuddles!!!, sleeping together, giving Kylo the love he needs and deserves, he doesn’t know how to handle it, kind of domestic?, going about life in the First Order

Wc; 1.6k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

“Command shuttle SL-5956 coming to dock.”

The robotic announcement echoes throughout Hangar Eight, sending people into motion to prepare for the arrival of the ship. You stand in waiting in the midst of the hangar, watching as the shuttle lazily passes through the guard barrier leading out into space, the massive black wings of the command shuttle folding upwards like the point of a pyramid as it’s lowered to the shiny floors. There’s a gust of wind that ruffles your hair, the familiar rumbles of the ship powering down filling your ears. BB-12 sits obediently beside you, occasionally rolling back and forth in idle movements. There’s a hiss from the command shuttle as the latches to the ramp are disengaged, white clouds of depressurized air being expelled from the pumps sitting on the perimeter and creating a sort of fog that spreads across the hangar before fizzling out.

There’s the sound of multiple sets of footsteps on the ramp, though one stands out more than the others. It’s followed by a familiar pulse, buzzing in the back of your mind, pawing at the shields you keep up, asking to be let back in after being absent for a week. Your defenses are lowered just enough for the dark presence to slip through and nestle in its usual spot, intertwining with your own Force signature and securing itself to you like tying a knot. Your other half has returned. Kylo leads the way down the ramp, followed by the Stormtroopers that had accompanied him, though you notice there’s three missing from the lineup. Casualties. His form—covered in black robes, red-veined helmet giving an intimidating gleam—commands the area, everyone seeming to hold their breath as they wait for the Supreme Leader to make his orders.

You meet him halfway, tilting your chin upwards to meet the invisible gaze behind the slit in his mask. “Welcome back, Supreme Leader. I take it everything went accordingly?” You openly suggest as such because you don’t sense the telltale signs of a failed mission coming from him—those usually being broiling anger or seething disappointment.

You look at him expectantly but there’s no response, just an empty stare and the faint static of breathing from the vocoder built into his helmet. You reach that invisible hand of the Force forward, poking through his own defenses, gathering the general sense of his condition, and it washes over you like a tidal wave. He’s exhausted. You feel it as though it’s your own; limbs that seem twice as heavy than they should be, eyes burning, mind seeming to have turned into unusable mush. You see the way he can barely hold himself up, with just the slightest sway to his posture that only someone like yourself would notice. He hasn’t rested properly in over a week, too consumed by his responsibilities that burden him at all hours and the dark memories that haunt him like ghosts. You lean forward. “Sir?”

Something in him snaps on like a lightbulb finally finding the energy it needs to sputter to life, his helmet lifting with a minuscule shake. “Yes, the mission was successful. The resistance base on Cona-6 has been destroyed.” His voice is lower than usual, bogged down by his exhaustion and struggling to get through his vocoder.

Your brows crease with concern, eyes roving over his helmet, wishing you could actually see him. Let’s get you back to our room. The offer rings across the Force bond you share, going into his mind and his alone. You want to get him away from the prying eyes within the hangar, from anyone who may fault him for the state he’s in. You doubt they’re is able to notice his current exhaustion, but you know it’ll only get worse if you don’t do something.

Please, comes as a response.

You’re glad he’s so easy to agree rather than fighting you on it and insisting he has more work to finish, even though you were prepared to drag him to bed if you had to. You lead the way from the hangar, Kylo following behind you and BB-12 rolling dutifully at your side. The lights within the halls of the Steadfast are beginning to dim as the artificial day cycle comes to a close, creating a sense of impeding night for the staff on board.

Officers and Stormtroopers quickly jump out of your way as you pass, sticking to the walls and watching you with feelings of terror trembling through their minds. You try to keep the path to your room as short as possible, taking what shortcuts you can until you reach the commanders section of sleeping quarters. The door sits in waiting, the identification numbers belonging to you and Kylo inscribed into the metal. There’s a beep from the control panel, granting you access as the two hexagonal doors open.

Cold air hits your face, the room always kept to be bordering on freezing since you both run unbearably hot. You get through the receiving room, then entering into the bedroom where the familiar bookshelves, tables, chairs and the large bed are waiting. It’s like a safe space for you two—it’s the one place your guards can be let down, where you can just be yourselves together and let your bond flow between you undisturbed, and where you can hide away from the things that trouble you… even if just for a little while.

You turn, and Kylo stops. His fists are clenched as a way to try and keep himself from falling asleep where he stands, the pressure from his fingers digging into his palms. You reach up and press the releases on his mask, the compartments hissing as they slide apart. His black hair falls around his face as you take the helmet off and you’re allowed to look at him in full. His eyes are dull, dark marks discoloring the skin beneath them, a tired neutrality settled onto his features as he blinks at you slowly. His signature across your bond is muted, unable to muster itself up to full strength, coming to you in colors less vibrant than usual.

No words are exchanged as you help free him of his outer layers, the robes falling to the ground in black piles of cloth until he’s left in just his undershirt and thick pants. His lightsaber and helmet are left in their usual spot on the lounge table, laid to rest until they’re next needed. You guide him over to the bed and he doesn’t hesitate to get under the covers, his exhaustion seeming to come out tenfold and making the line of your connection tremble.

You sit on your side of the bed for a moment, merely watching as he gets comfortable with his eyes squinted even as you dim the lights to darkness. He sighs with a blooming contentment and you then move to get up, thinking perhaps it would be better to leave him alone to sleep and using the last few hours of the cycle to get work done. But you don’t get far, his hand snatching your wrist and tugging you back down. “Stay,” he orders, a rumble of annoyance coming from him at the thought of you leaving. I can’t sleep without you.

“Okay.” You tell him without hesitation, beginning to shed your layers as well and leaving them to join his on the floor. An early night certainly wouldn’t hurt; having to control the Order in Kylo’s place wasn’t an easy job. Your lightsaber is put to rest next to his own. “BB-12, guard the door so no one tries to bother us. I’ll shoot them if they do.” The droid gives a beep in response before rolling down the hall and disappearing into the receiving area. It stands as an unspoken rule across the ship that anyone who disturbs the Supreme Leader and Commander at this time will be dealt with in an unpleasant manner.

You slip beneath the covers, Kylo’s strong arms immediately coming forward and enveloping you, dragging you to him so your bodies are flush against each other. You twist around in his grip so you’re facing him, his eyes closed. You lift your hands, placing them on either side of his face, your thumbs running idly across his cheeks. He hums at the action, his body further relaxing beneath your touch and his signature becoming something more soft and smooth. You kiss along his face—his jaw, his lips, his cheeks, his scar, his forehead, and lastly, his nose, which makes his face scrunch in a way that makes you smile, reminding you of a cat.

Every part of him is perfect to you, and you tell him as such constantly. He sees only his faults, whereas you see his strengths. He attempts to bury his head in the crook of your neck, his hold tightening, overwhelmed by the attention you’re giving him. Though there’s a happy trill akin to a purr along the bond, creating a sense of tranquility that blossoms with gentle colors like flowers.

You card your fingers through the silkiness of his hair, your legs becoming tangled beneath the sheets. His breath tickles your neck, steadily becoming slower and more even as he’s dragged into sleep both by his exhaustion and your gentle care. He’s happy in this moment, glad to relax entirely around you and give in to the basic desires of his mind. You nestle your cheek against the top of his head, enjoying the way he holds you close and secure like you’re an anchor he needs to keep a hold of. He’s already asleep, and you know you’ll do your best to keep away all the things that plague him so that he can sleep in peace when he needs it most. He deserves that much.

[kpoplustzone]

Designated Fucking IU Smut 

OC X IU

PUBLIC, CAR SEX, CREAMPIE, TEASING

Upcoming stories - Nayeon's Three pets on KOFI - LINK

IU looked at the young man who was taking peeks at her from the driver's seat. IU knew the effect of her beautiful face and body on males. Especially her aura that she had created from years of being a nation's queen. But the young man who cannot be called handsome was now taking liberties to ogle at her made her smile. She had a private meetup with her friends and was too drunk to drive, so she had to contact a designated driver to go home, and being tipsy made her more vulnerable to the man’s rude stares. He shorts skirt, making sure that he was getting a full view of her sexy, toned thighs, and tight shirt giving him a full view of her big, perky breasts. 

IU, feeling a mix of amusement and arousal from the young man's blatant stares, decided to have a little fun with him. She shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs slowly, ensuring that her short skirt rode up even higher, giving him an enticing glimpse of her sexy, toned thighs. She knew that the position of her legs would allow him to see almost all the way up to her lace panties, and the thought of his eyes feasting on her made her smile widen.

She leaned back in her seat, arching her back slightly to push her big, perky breasts forward, her tight shirt stretching taut against her flesh. Her nipples, hard and sensitive, pressed against the fabric, and she could imagine the young man's eyes widening as he took in the sight of her. She ran her hands through her hair, shaking her head slightly to mess it up, giving her a tousled, just-fucked look that she knew drove men wild.

IU then brought her hands to her breasts, cupping and squeezing them gently, her thumbs brushing over her hard nipples, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. She bit her lip, stifling a moan as she teased herself, her eyes locked on the young man's reflection in the rear-view mirror. She could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, his eyes glued to her body, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

She trailed her hands down her stomach, her fingers dancing over her skin as she moved lower, hovering just above the waistband of her skirt. She teased him, pausing for a moment before slowly inching her skirt up, revealing more of her thighs, her panties, and finally, a hint of her smooth, shaved pussy. She could see the young man's breath hitch, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the wheel, his eyes wide with lust and desire.

IU, feeling bold and empowered by his reaction, decided to give him a show he would never forget. She slipped her fingers into her panties, her eyes never leaving his in the mirror as she began to touch herself, her fingers finding her wet, swollen clit. She bit her lip, stifling a moan as she circled her clit, her hips bucking slightly as waves of pleasure coursed through her body.

She could see the young man's cock straining against his pants, his breathing heavy and ragged as he tried to keep his eyes on the road. She smiled to herself, knowing that she had him right where she wanted him. She slipped a finger inside her pussy, her eyes rolling back slightly as she fucked herself slowly, her palm rubbing against her clit with each movement.

The car filled with the scent of her arousal, her moans and the wet sounds of her fingers fucking her pussy the only sounds in the vehicle. She could see the young man's hand moving to his cock, stroking himself through his pants as he watched her, his eyes dark with lust.

She slowly removed her fingers from her pussy, bringing them to her mouth to suck her juices off, her eyes never leaving the young man's in the mirror. She could see his cock pulsing, his body tensing as he came, his hot cum spilling into his pants as he stared at her, a look of pure ecstasy.

IU, her voice sultry and inviting, leaned forward and asked, "Are there any secluded spots nearby? Somewhere private and quiet?"

The young man, catching her drift, nodded eagerly, his eyes lighting up with a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Y-yes, there's a spot I know of. It's quiet and secluded. I'll take you there."

He quickly started the car and drove with a newfound sense of purpose, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he rushed towards the spot he had in mind. The drive was short, and within minutes, they were pulling off the road and into a secluded area surrounded by tall trees and dense foliage. The young man parked the car, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned off the engine.

He climbed out of the car, his legs feeling shaky, and stood near her door, not sure what to do next. He could hear his heartbeat, loud and insistent, as he waited for her to make the next move. The door suddenly opened, and he was pulled inside, his body falling onto hers as she lay back on the seat.

IU's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close as she kissed him deeply, her tongue exploring his mouth with a hunger that took his breath away. He could feel her body pressing against his, her hard nipples poking through her tight shirt, her smooth thighs wrapping around his waist as she ground against him.

"Fuck me," she whispered against his lips, her voice a low, sultry growl. "I want you to fuck me right here, right now."

The young man, his cock already hard and straining against his pants, didn't need to be told twice. He quickly shed his clothes, his eyes never leaving hers as he revealed his toned, muscular body. IU, equally eager, stripped off her own clothes, her breasts spilling free, her hard nipples begging for his touch.

He climbed on top of her, his body covering hers as he kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her body, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, and exploring every inch of her sexy, toned flesh. She moaned and arched her back, pressing her pussy against his hard cock, her body begging for him to fill her.

He obliged, positioning himself at her entrance and thrusting into her with a single, powerful stroke. They both moaned in pleasure, their bodies joining as one as he began to move, his hips bucking wildly as he fucked her deeply and passionately.

IU's legs wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into his ass as she urged him on, her body meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. The car filled with the sounds of their moans, the wet slapping of their bodies coming together, and the scent of their combined arousal.

He could feel her pussy clenching around his cock, her body trembling as she neared her orgasm. He increased the pace of his thrusts, his body slamming into hers as he chased his own release, their breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as they neared the edge of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural growl. "Your pussy is so tight and wet.”

The young man, still hard and throbbing inside her, felt IU's pussy clench and pulse around his cock as she came, her body shaking and trembling with the force of her orgasm. He held her tightly, his arms wrapped around her as she rode out the waves of pleasure, her moans of ecstasy music to his ears.

As her orgasm subsided, she looked into his eyes, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "That was just the start," she purred, her voice sultry and inviting. "Now it's my turn to ride you."

With a strength that surprised him, she pushed him back onto the seat, her body straddling his as she took control. He looked up at her, his eyes wide with awe and desire as he took in the sight of her sexy, toned body, her perky breasts bouncing slightly as she moved, her hard nipples begging for his touch.

IU began to ride him, her hips moving in a circular motion as she took his cock deep inside her, her pussy stretching to accommodate his length and girth. She leaned back, her hands on his thighs for support, her eyes locked on his as she rode him slowly and deliberately, her body moving like a wave as she impaled herself on his cock.

"Fuck, you're so deep inside me," she moaned, her voice a low, sultry growl. "I can feel every inch of your cock filling me up. It feels so good."

He groaned in response, his hands roaming over her body, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, and exploring every inch of her sexy, toned flesh. "You're so fucking sexy, IU. Riding my cock like a pro. You feel amazing."

She increased the pace, her hips bucking wildly as she rode him harder and faster, her body slapping against his with each thrust. The car filled with the sounds of their moans, the wet slapping of their bodies coming together, and the scent of their combined arousal.

"Your cock is so big and hard," she panted, her voice breathless with desire. "I love the way it fills me up, stretches me. I could ride you all day."

He groaned, his body tensing as he felt his own orgasm building, his cock swelling inside her as he prepared to release his load. "Keep riding me, IU. Make me come. I want to fill your pussy with my cum."

Her dirty talking and the sight of her sexy body riding his cock sent him into a frenzy, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he met her thrusts, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as they chased their releases.

As he was lost in the pleasure, his thoughts raced with the realization of who he was with. *I'm fucking IU, the K-pop sensation. This is a dream come true. I can't believe I'm inside her, feeling her body move against mine. This might be the luckiest day of my life.* He looked up at her, his eyes filled with awe and desire as he took in the sight of her sexy, toned body, her perky breasts bouncing slightly as she moved, her hard nipples begging for his touch.

IU, sensing his gaze, leaned forward, her hands on his chest for support as she rode him even harder, her body slapping against his with each thrust. "I can feel you swelling inside me," she panted, her voice sultry and sexy.

The young man, lost in the pleasure of the moment, could vaguely register the distant hum of one or two cars passing by on the road nearby. Fortunately, the sounds of their passion seemed to go unnoticed by the drivers, their focus likely elsewhere. This added a thrilling layer of excitement to their encounter, knowing that they were so exposed yet unnoticed.

IU, her body trembling with the intensity of her pleasure, clutched onto the seats for support as she rode him with wild abandon. Her high-pitched moans and screams filled the car, a symphony of ecstasy that only served to spur him on. He could feel her pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock, her body convulsing as another orgasm ripped through her.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural growl. "Your pussy is so tight and wet. I love hearing you scream for me."

He began to thrust upward, meeting her movements with equal force, his hips slamming into hers with a rhythm that made the car squeak and rock with each powerful stroke. The sound of their bodies coming together, the wet slapping of their flesh, and the creaking of the car seats added to the erotic symphony, heightening their arousal.

IU, her body glistening with sweat, threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back as she rode him with abandon. "Yes, fuck me harder," she screamed, her voice hoarse with passion. "I love feeling your cock deep inside me. Don't stop, don't ever stop."

He obliged, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he pounded into her, his body slamming against hers with a force that shook the car. The seat beneath them squeaked in protest with each thrust, the sound a testament to the raw, primal nature of their encounter.

"Your cock is so big and hard," she panted, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I can feel every inch of you filling me up. It's so fucking good."

The young man began to move again, his hips starting to grind against hers in a slow, deliberate rhythm. IU, still in a daze from the intensity of their encounter, moaned softly, her body responding to his movements as he slowly started to fuck her again.

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth as he continued to move inside her, his cock hardening once more, ready for another round. IU wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, her body molding to his as they moved together in a slow, sensual dance.

Gradually, he increased the pace, his hips bucking against hers, his cock filling her with each thrust. The car began to rock gently with their movements, the seat squeaking in time with their rhythm. IU's moans grew louder, her body trembling with the building pleasure as he pounded into her, their sweat-soaked bodies slapping together with each forceful thrust.

In a smooth, fluid motion, he slowly opened the car door, never stopping his movements as he began to carry her outside, her body still impaled on his cock. IU, lost in a haze of pleasure, was barely aware of the change in their surroundings, her eyes fluttering open and closed as she rode the waves of ecstasy that washed over her.

He stepped out of the car, his strong arms supporting her weight as he continued to fuck her, his cock sliding in and out of her wet, eager pussy. The cool night air hit their sweat-soaked skin, but neither of them noticed, too lost in their passion to care about their surroundings.

IU's eyes fluttered open, and she looked around in a daze, her brain slowly registering that they were outside, in public, and that her bare, naked body was fully exposed to anyone who might pass by. She gasped, her body tensing as she tried to stop him, her hands pushing against his chest.

"Wait, we're outside," she panted, her voice a mix of shock and arousal. "Someone might see us."

He, however, was not about to stop now that he had her out in the open, the thrill of possibly being caught adding to his arousal. He gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he continued to pound into her, his cock swelling inside her with each deep thrust.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "No one's around. And if they are, let them watch. You're so fucking sexy, IU. I want the world to see you like this."

He increased the pace of his thrusts, his hips moving like a piston as he fucked her deeply and passionately, his cock filling her completely with each stroke. IU's resistance faded as she gave in to the pleasure, her body moving with his, her moans filling the night air as he took her in the most primal of ways.

"Oh god, you feel so good," she moaned, her head falling back, her eyes closed as she lost herself in the sensation. "Fuck me harder. I don't care if anyone sees. I just need you to fuck me."

He obliged, his body slamming into hers with a force that left them both breathless, their skin slapping together, the sounds of their passion echoing through the secluded spot. The world-renowned idol was now being fucked in public, her bare, naked body exposed, but she didn't care, lost in the pleasure of the moment, her body and mind completely focused on the cock that filled her so completely.

He carefully placed her back onto the hood of the car, her body sliding against the cool metal, a stark contrast to the heat of their passion. With a firm grip on her hips, he spread her ass cheeks wide, exposing her most intimate place to the night air. He could see her pussy, swollen and glistening with her arousal, her inner lips puffy and begging for more attention.

He positioned himself at her entrance and slowly pushed into her, feeling her tight, wet pussy envelop his cock inch by inch. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural sound of pure pleasure. "Your pussy feels like a vice grip, squeezing my cock so fucking good."

IU moaned in response, her head thrown back, her long black hair splayed out against the hood of the car, creating a stark contrast to the metal. Her nipples, hard and sensitive, stood at attention, begging for his touch. He leaned down, taking one into his mouth, sucking and nibbling gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. He could feel her body respond, her pussy clenching around his cock, her hips bucking against him as she sought more friction.

"Yes, just like that," she moaned, her voice a breathless whisper. "Suck my nipples, make me feel good."

He obliged, his mouth moving to her other nipple, giving it the same attention as he continued to fuck her deeply, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He could feel her pussy clutching at his cock, trying to pull him in deeper, her inner walls rippling around him, massaging his length with each movement.

IU's thoughts raced as she took in the sensation of being fucked in public. *I can't believe I'm doing this,* she thought, a mix of excitement and naughtiness coursing through her veins. *Fucking someone outside, where anyone could see. It's so taboo, so dirty, and I fucking love it.*

She looked down at him, her eyes filled with lust and desire as she ran her hands through his hair, urging him on. "Fuck me harder," she panted. "I want to feel your cock deep inside me. I want everyone to hear how much I'm enjoying this."

He increased the pace of his thrusts, his hips slamming against hers, the sound of their bodies coming together echoing through the night. He could feel her pussy getting wetter, her inner walls clenching and unclenching around his cock as she neared her orgasm.

"Your pussy is so fucking perfect," he groaned, his voice strained with effort. "So tight, so wet, so fucking mine. I love how you're clutching my cock, trying to milk me dry."

IU moaned in response, her body trembling with the building pleasure, her mind a blur of ecstasy and naughty thoughts. *I'm IU, the world-renowned idol, and I'm being fucked in public like a common slut. And I fucking love it.*

Her pussy clenched tightly around his cock, her body convulsing as she came undone, her orgasm ripping through her with the force of a hurricane. "Fuck, I'm coming!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the night, a symphony of pleasure and release.

He could feel her pussy pulsing around his cock, her inner walls milking him, urging him to join her in ecstasy. With a final, powerful thrust, he pushed them both over the edge, his body tensing as he came, his cock pulsing as he released his load deep inside her, their cries of ecstasy mingling in the night air, their bodies joined as one in the most primal of acts.

As their orgasms subsided, they were left sweaty and panting, their bodies slick with a sheen of sweat, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath. He could feel his cum leaking from her pussy, dripping onto the car seat beneath them, a testament to the intensity of their encounter.

IU, too spent to move, lay there on the hood of the car, her body glistening in the moonlight, her long black hair splayed out around her, sticking to her sweat-soaked skin. She turned to him, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, her eyes filled with a mix of contentment and exhaustion.

"That was the best fuck of my life," she murmured, her voice soft and breathless. "You have no idea how long I've wanted that. To be taken, to be fucked so deeply and thoroughly. You have a talented cock and know how to use it."

He, still in awe of what had just happened, sat beside her, his own body dripping with sweat, a grin spreading across his face as he listened to her words. He was shocked by the opportunity she presented and knew that if he took this job, he would be able to fuck her again and again.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, IU," he said, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "I have to admit, that was one of the most intense experiences of my life. You're incredible."

She turned to him, her eyes serious as she propositioned him. "I have a lot of schedules and private events. I need a driver I can trust. Someone who can be discreet and reliable. Would you be interested in becoming my driver for all my schedules and private events?"

He was taken aback, his mind racing with the implications of her offer. He knew that if he accepted, he would have unlimited access to her, to her body, and to the lifestyle of a K-pop idol. The thought of fucking her regularly, of being her personal driver and lover, sent a thrill of excitement through him.

"Of course, IU," he agreed, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I would be honored to be your driver. And who knows? Maybe we can have more nights like this."

She smiled back at him, her eyes filled with promise. "I have no doubt we will. Now, let's get you cleaned up. You have a big responsibility ahead of you."

As they both came down from their high, the reality of their situation sank in. He had just been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, and he knew that he would do everything in his power to live up to her expectations. With a final glance at her sexy, sweaty body, he helped her up, and they began to clean themselves, ready to face the world together, their secret bond forged in the heat of passion.

[hottestvirgin]

JUNG SUNGCHAN 18+ ᡣ𐭩 DRABBLE

your older brother leaves you alone with his best friend

warnings. dom!sungchan, sub!reader, smut, nsfw, p in v, pet names, praising, light degradation, choking, unprotected sex, just sexy sex

notes. currently taking requests!

“s-sungchan, fuck…” you moan. the sweet, savory feeling of your brother’s best friend’s thick cock pounding into you sends a wave of heat throughout your aching body.

you’re so fucked out— throat hoarse and your own salvia spilling down your chin, hot tears rolling down your puffy cheeks from having the third orgasm fucked out of you.

sungchan’s heavy hands hold onto your waist, nails digging and creating small crescents into your flesh as he pounds into you. your thighs quivers, all while trying to pull your throbbing body away from his unforgiving thrusts.

“stop running and take it.” sungchan mutters, and you could feel the teasing smirk in his voice. he moves his hands to grip your ass, spreading them to watch how his cock stretches you past your limits— a thick, white ring of your cum collecting on his shaft with each sluggish movement of his hips.

“s’ big, s’ big..” your words are muffled by the pillow beneath you, soiled with your own tears and drool.

“mhm,” sungchan hums, voice low and hoarse, “i hear you baby.”

but despite your pleas and cries, sungchan’s hips continue to pound into you. the bulbous tip of his cock abusing that sensitive spot deep inside you, repeatedly. trying to push yet another orgasm out of you.

“feels good?” he asks while burying himself deep inside your dripping cunt, stilling his body and laying on top of you. he bottoms out with a gasp, yanking your hair back just enough to lick at your glistening neck.

clenching harder around him, you nod frantically at his question. and right at that moment you thank god for convincing your brother to wear his big ass headset.

“m’ in so fuckin’ deep, feel that?” he taunts, rocking his hips to meet your desperate movements.

“y..yesh.. yes. sungchan.. yesyesyes, fuck, don’t stop..” your words might as well be gibberish from how ragged they were. but luckily, sungchan understands what you’re begging for and starts pounding into you again, using his freehand to push your head into the pillow while he punches breathless moans out of your lungs.

“shh, shh, baby. he’s still downstairs, remember?” sungchan coos. so you bite down onto your bottom lip to try to suppress your rigid moans. you would rather die than have eunseok catch his best friend balls deep in you.

“i’m close,” you whimper, feeling that familiar knot in the pit of your stomach close to snapping, “baby i’m so close.”

sungchan grunts again as you clench around him. he pulls you up by your neck, your back against his warm, sweaty chest. and oh. with this position, you could feel him reaching deeper in you, abusing your poor cervix.

“go ahead, pretty.” sungchan whimpers.

and with his permission along with his quivering voice, hoarse and low, you clench hard around him and cream his shaft with a breathless scream.

he follows and spurts his hot semen inside of your tight walls, breathing hard while squeezing your waist, stabilizing himself.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

“where were you?” eunseok looks up from the tv as the game he’s playing with sungchan loads for the third round. you sit on the couch and start scrolling on your phone, avoiding the obvious glare sungchan sends you.

“shower.” you respond simply. and eunseok shrugs, turning his attention back onto the video game.

and when you look up, you meet sungchan’s eyes. he chuckles lightly and you clench your thighs together. you could go for another round.

[a-d-nox]

astro hypothesis: dress for the occasion

everyone is always mentioning to dress like your venus sign. recently, i have seen a lot of tiktoks where people are like dress like your crush/boyfriend's venus sign to look like his dream girl. and i was like what about dressing for the occasion? which brought me here! grab your venus persona and take a look at the houses.

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

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5h - prom, dances, dates, and clubs

5h cancer (4°, 16°, 28°) and/or 5h moon: elegance is key. you might be drawn to long, flowy gowns with shimmery fabric. something light but glowy! often the fabric is dark (black or midnight blue) or slivery/white. a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder cut tends to look beautiful on these people. often you are drawn to semi-sheer fabric as it adds some mystique to your appearance.

5h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 5h venus: light pastels or ivory are likely to grab your attention but a plain white or black dress is likely to give you that elegant/timeless look that you want most in pictures to remember your day (otherwise, you might take pictures in a colored dress and turn on a black and white filter). you want the wow factor! so a-line, a ball gown, or fit-flare dresses might be your go to look. a floor length dress is likely a must for you. silk, satin, chiffon, and/or organza are likely on the tags of these dresses even if you don't know what these materials are by the naked eye. dresses with a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder sleeves are likely to make you feel elegant. you may like very simple accessories - plain earrings, a dainty bracelet, small pendant necklace, classic heels, etc. a v-neckline, bateau, or strapless design is likely to fit your elegance same could be said about a low back dress.

5h aquarius (11°, 23°) and/or 5h uranus: you are likely to be drawn to the blue family (sky, sea, ocean, water, turquoise, etc.). iridescence/holographic/shimmery material might draw your attention in a store. you often go for something very atypical in the store (might be from seasons ago - its likely the last of its kind). something a-line, flowy, and/or high-to-low might be of interest to you - the cuts of a dress bring interest to your favorite parts of yourself (example, maybe its a two piece dress). something high neck or off the shoulder is likely of interest to you as well. a loose braid and/or waves might be all you need to finish out your look.

7h - wedding attire

7h aries (1°, 13°, 25°) and/or 7h mars: as a bride you should be wearing pure white. nudes or off-whites aren't likely to hold your attention anyway. grab the pure stark white. it is likely that reds are going to be an accent of this wedding - roses, nail, polish, bridesmaid dresses, etc. but if you aren't in the wedding party, go for the red whether its a fiery red or a deep burgundy, its the way to go! no matter if you are the bride, the guest, or a member of the wedding party - you should opt for a fit flare dress or mermaid silhouette. or be really dramatic and go for a deep slit, a plunge neckline, or something backless! the devil is in the details too so things like careful beading, sequins, or embroidery should be something critical to your look (if not the fit and/or the drama). alternatively, minimalism/modernism might be something you enjoy for your look.

7h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) and/or 7h mercury: as a bride, you might lean towards ivory or whites with an undertone of some color (like a blush). you don't tend to go for the traditional white color, in my experience. if you are a guest or in the wedding party it is likely you will find yourself in soft pastel colors! movement is of the utmost importance to you so opt for a-line or flowy gown. you might also enjoy wearing things that are asymmetrical - the hemline might be high to low or you might like the one shoulder strap design. these people also like details in their dresses whether it is lace, embroidery, beading, ruffles, tiered skirts, or glitter - the options are endless. chiffon, tulle, or organza might be the fabrics for you because they are light and breathable.

6h - everyday clothes and workwear

6h pisces (12°, 24°) and/or 6h neptune: soft fabrics like cotton, silk, or jersey in gentle, soothing colors such as ocean blues, seafoam greens, lavender, and soft pinks. loose, flowing clothes like maxi skirts, wrap dresses, or wide-legged pants that move gracefully. style would likely be bohemian and free-spirited, incorporating layers, delicate patterns, or subtle prints (florals, paisley, etc.). clothes would be cozy and easy to wear—think oversized sweaters, soft cardigans, and flowy blouses. might like jewelry that is delicate, handmade, seashells, pearls, and/or celestial themed.

6h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 6h venus: these people have a natural sense of style and an appreciation for their appearance. outfits would likely be classic, well-tailored pieces in soft, neutral tones like blush pink, dove gray, cream, and pastel blues. the fabrics would be light and luxurious - like silk blouses, cashmere sweaters, or satin skirts. well-fitted blazers, A-line skirts, and or high-waisted trousers make them look polished and graceful. they effortlessly blend comfort with sophistication. everything else is minimal yet thoughtfully chosen - delicate gold or silver jewelry, a stylish handbag, etc.

9h - graduation and religious events

9h taurus (2°, 14°, 26°) and/or 9h venus: elegance, luxury, and comfort ("it has pockets too!"). a sleek, well-structured dress in an earthy tones like emerald green, soft brown, or blush pink. the fabric might be luxurious, like silk, satin, or velvet. a silhouette would likely be timeless and flattering - a wrap dress or an A-line dress that cinches at the waist, emphasizing femininity and grace is well suited for this placement. delicate embroidery or subtle jewelry accents. understated but beautiful accessories, like a simple gold necklace or pearl earrings.

9h leo (5°, 17°, 29°) and/or 9h sun: bold, glamorous, and attention grabbing. vibrant colors like gold, fiery red, or royal purple. the fabric might be something that shimmers or catches the light, such as sequined, satin, or metallic materials. a silhouette could be daring and statement-making, like a fitted flair dress, a high-low hemline, or an off-the-shoulder design. ruffles, a thigh-high slit, or an open back, ensures all eyes are on them. accessories would be bold—think large, sparkling earrings, a dramatic statement necklace, etc. yes, realize what my sub-header is for this section.

9h sagittarius (9°, 21°) and/or jupiter: it's never just one graduation or church event and thus never just one dress/opportunity. the dresses would likely have a regal, flowing quality to it. jewel tones like deep sapphire, royal blue, or amethyst. flowy, A-line, and/or empire waisted dresses that gives a sense of movement. fabric might be lightweight and ethereal, like chiffon, tulle, or silk. intricate embroidery, beading, etc. accessories would be tasteful but luxurious, like a delicate gold bracelet or a jeweled hairpiece.

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[unstable-samurai]

First Light

Shuhua x Male Reader

Word Count: 16k

one-shot

You're in the lifeguard tower, a cubicle that smells of sunscreen and snacks, arguing with your supervisor about carburetors. He's talking about his Chevelle, and you pretend to understand, but all you can think about is the roar of the engine and how much you'd rather be on the road than here, where the warm breeze seems to glue your skin to the fabric of the chair.

"I’ve got some paperwork to deal with," he says, patting his pocket as if that would make the paperwork more real. "You got this?"

Of course, you’ve got this.

Nothing much is happening right now. The day will repeat itself quietly, like the previous ones—maybe someone will step on a jellyfish, but that’s about it.

For now, just sun-kissed bodies scattered like shells and the sound of the waves repeating the same eternal monologue.

Minutes pass.

Maybe five.

Maybe fifteen.

You see something at the edge of the beach. A crowd. People running to the same spot, like ants in a panic. You grab the binoculars, focus on the scene. Screams. Hands waving desperately.

Okay, maybe things would deviate from normal today.

You know what's happening before you even see the guy's head bobbing up and down, like a miniature castaway.

Your heart speeds up in a "it’s now or never" way. Adrenaline starts to boil in your blood. Without thinking, you grab the jetski and go. Each wave is a slap in the face, the sun a fluorescent lamp frying your neck.

You barely hear the voices around you. Everything is muffled, as if you’ve dived underwater. But you keep moving, your body acting on reflex, instincts forged in drills repeated to exhaustion. The jetski cuts through the water like a blade, spraying droplets that glisten in the morning sun. In the distance, the crowd huddles on the sand, small silhouettes blurred by distance and heat.

The man is floating, face up, but the waves keep pulling him down, away from where he should be. His body moves awkwardly, arms flailing in the water with the desperation of someone who knows time is running out. And you? You’re just an extension of the jetski, muscles and nerves automated, your mind cold as ice.

There’s no time to think. Only to act.

You slow down and approach from behind, tossing the buoy towards the man, who tries to grab it, but his movements are uncoordinated, sluggish. The current is stronger than it looked from afar. You need to be quick. One mistake, and he goes under. Without hesitation, you dive into the water, the cold impact enveloping you, but your mind stays sharp, focused. You feel the resistance of the sea against your body as you swim towards him.

"Grab the lifebuoy!" you shout, your voice lost in the wind and waves, but he finally manages to hold onto it, his fingers white from gripping so hard. You feel the weight of his body as you start pulling him towards the jetski. He doesn’t struggle, but he’s heavy, as if the water itself is trying to keep him.

You lift him just enough so he can lean against the side of the jetski. He’s gasping for air, coughing up water, his eyes wide with fear, but still, conscious. You climb back onto the jetski, keeping a firm hand on him as you steer the vehicle back to the shore. The return trip feels longer, the waves seeming to conspire to pull you both further away, but you don’t slow down.

On the sand, the crowd parts, creating a narrow path to where you’ll land. They’re silent, the kind of heavy silence as if they’re waiting to see if this will have a happy ending. You steer the jetski onto the shore, jumping onto the sand before anyone can react. With the help of a pair of arms you barely see, the man is pulled out of the water, his feet dragging in the sand as he tries to catch his breath.

The supervisor, the great major of this beach, is already there. From somewhere, he appeared, arms crossed, a smile on his face barely containing his pride.

"First rescue, huh, son?" He claps you on the shoulder as if you were a war hero. "Kid, you did a good job. One day you’re going to be better than me."

But the words don’t penetrate the layer of indifference you’ve built around yourself. You just shrug, looking at the man now sitting on the sand, supported by other lifeguards, his breathing finally returning to normal. People start clapping, soon becoming more intense. People taking pictures, a commotion to remember later, something to tell over dinner or post on social media.

Curious eyes, pointing fingers.

They say: "Hero," "Savior," "Blessed."

But you barely hear it, it feels distant, like background noise, like a TV in another room. All you can think is that this is your job. There’s nothing extraordinary about it. You did it because you had to, because it was either that or let a man drown.

Your father's hand is still on your shoulder.

"That’s my boy!" he says. You just nod, pretending to accept everything that’s happening.

But you look at the sand. Look at the sea. The sky. Anything but the faces, anything but the eyes of the people watching you. Because deep down, you know there’s no heroism in this. Just the inevitability of duty.

The man on the sand looks at you with eyes full of gratitude, but you just turn away, not wanting to feel the connection, the responsibility he seems to place on you with that look. Your father says something else, but you barely hear it, already starting to move away from the scene, feeling the weight of what you just did dissolve amidst the unwanted attention.

And then you walk away. The noise of the beach, the applause, all of it fading as you head toward the tower, trying to leave it all behind, but knowing that, somehow, the weight of it is still there, even if you pretend it’s not.

—

You're sitting on the steps of the lifeguard tower, and the sunset is the kind of show that nobody pays to see, but everyone stops to watch. Seagulls circle above you like little white demons, the waves crash against the sand with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic sound, and you feel the salty breeze cooling the skin that’s been under the sun all day. The air carries the scent of salt, of the sea, of a day that's dying.

You hear footsteps in the sand. Slow, as if each grain were an obstacle. And then you see her. The long dress floats around her legs, the wind playing with the fabric. The Polaroid camera hangs on her shoulder, as if it’s part of her. Something about her seems out of place, as if she’s stepped out of a different time and is now trying to fit into the present.

She stops a few steps away from you, her eyes scanning the horizon before they land on your face.

"Could you take a picture of me?" Her voice is soft but firm, like someone who’s used to getting what she wants without needing to ask twice.

You stand up, somewhat embarrassed that you didn’t realize you were sitting until now.

"Sure." You take the camera, and she positions herself so the lens can capture her alongside the vastness of the sea. She doesn't smile for the photo. It’s as if she's lost in some thought that the sun is trying to steal from her.

The flash pops, and the photo starts to materialize, the outlines emerging slowly as if painted by hand. She takes the image, studying it for a moment before smiling slightly, satisfied.

"Thank you," she says.

You can’t help but think of how beautiful she is. Not the plastic, symmetrical beauty of a magazine, but something rawer, more real. Her face has that shape you only see in classic paintings. Large, dark eyes, as if they want to see more of the world than it’s willing to show. Porcelain skin, long dark hair that catches the golden light of the setting sun.

"You're a tourist, aren't you?" you ask, more to fill the silence than out of curiosity.

"I am," she replies, without taking her eyes off the photo. "Just passing through. I leave on Monday."

It's Friday by the way.

"Ah, that's a shame," you say, and realize you sounded sadder than you intended. "Is it your first time here?"

She finally looks at you, and her gaze is something you didn’t expect. Like she's studying you, trying to understand something even you don’t grasp.

"Yes," she says after a pause. "And you? Do you spend your days here, saving lives?"

You shrug.

"More or less. It's my job."

She tilts her head slightly, her hair falling over one shoulder.

"You didn’t seem too happy when you saved that man today."

"I was just doing my job," you repeat, as if that could end the conversation.

But she doesn’t let it go.

"Is that all? I’d imagine saving someone would be something worth celebrating."

You hesitate, your eyes searching for something to focus on that isn’t her.

"It’s not like that. My dad runs everything here. He kind of pushed me into it."

She’s silent for a moment, as if processing what you said. Then, with a slight smile, she asks:

"And why don’t you want to be a lifeguard? Any guy would love to have a dad who's, like, ripped and cool, making a living on the beach, being treated like a hero."

You let out a small laugh, but it comes out more bitter than you intended.

"It's not just that. I wanted to play football instead of being a lifeguard."

She takes a step closer, curiosity growing in her eyes.

"Football? What do you mean? You wanted to be a professional player?"

"That was the plan," you admit. "But life happened. And here I am."

She nods, as if she understands perfectly.

"It’s funny how things don’t always go the way we plan, right?"

You agree. The sun is almost completely gone, and the colors in the sky fade, as if they’re tired of shining so brightly.

"Do you always travel alone?" you ask, trying to steer the conversation to something less personal.

She smiles, but this time it’s more challenging.

"And why not? I like discovering the world on my own. With no one to get in the way. Can’t a woman do that?"

"I think it’s admirable," you say, and you mean it. Something about the way she talks, like she’s always two steps ahead, makes you want to know more.

"I study philosophy," she reveals. "I’m on vacation, trying to see as much as I can before reality pulls me back."

Philosophy. Of course. You should have guessed.

"That explains a lot," you say, smiling for the first time in a while—long enough that you didn’t even realize you hadn’t been smiling.

She smiles back, and for the first time, it feels like she’s really here, in the present, with you.

"And you? Are you going to tell me more about yourself, or leave me to imagine?"

"Maybe I’ll tell you more if you come with me later. I’m going for a walk along the boardwalk. If you want company, we can meet near the broken statue at seven."

She pretends to think for a moment, but the smile on her face already gives the answer.

"Maybe I will. Who knows?"

You both fall silent for a moment, listening to the waves, the seagulls, the sound of the world turning. And then, with one last glance, she walks away, leaving you with a sunset that’s already turned to night.

A night that promises to bring something more than just stars.

—

You're sitting on the bench, waiting. People walk along the boardwalk, laughing, chatting, living their lives as if you weren't there, alone. Every passing minute, every step you hear that isn't hers, feels like the whisper of a tiny little devil saying that maybe you got it all wrong.

Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she remembered something more important. Maybe you're not as interesting as you think. You start calculating how long it's acceptable to wait before getting up and leaving without seeming desperate.

Then you feel the touch. It's light, almost as if a breeze had turned solid for a second. You turn your head, and there she is. Shuhua. As if she had been materialized by your thoughts. Her dress, now shorter, clings to her body with the same ease that night clings to the sky. Her dark hair shines under the streetlights, and for a second, you forget how to breathe.

"You look beautiful," you say, because nothing else makes sense in that moment.

She smiles, as if she already knew, but still likes to hear it.

"Thank you."

You begin to walk side by side, the sound of the waves in the distance sometimes pulling you back to the moment of the rescue again, though you don't show it.

"What's it like studying philosophy?" you ask, because the silence between you seems fuller than any conversation. And because you want to know more about what makes her who she is.

She looks around for a second, as if someone passing by might hand her the answer.

"It's like trying to understand life as it happens. Like you're a spectator in your own movie."

"Then say something philosophical," you ask, half-joking, but half-hoping she'll reveal something that will change the way you see the world.

She stops for a second, and you think maybe you've asked too much. But then she smiles, a smile that doesn't quite light up her whole face, but brings a small light to the night.

"All we know is that we know nothing."

"That's Socrates, right?"

"That's right."

"Oh, come on. You can do better than that."

"So, what do you want to know, Mr. Deep?"

You keep walking along the boardwalk, your steps slow, almost synchronized.

"Do you believe we're really free to do whatever we want?" The question comes out of you before you have time to filter it.

"Nietzsche said that desire is what drives us. It's not just a choice; it's what we are, what makes us act. But the problem is that desire is never simple, never pure. It always comes with a shadow. And that shadow is guilt."

She turns her face to you, a slight smile on her lips, but it's a smile that doesn't reach her eyes, and she continues:

"We can do whatever we want, yes. But do we really want to? Or does desire just push us toward what's inevitable, toward what we try to resist but deep down know we'll end up giving in to?"

You try to process what she's saying, but it's like trying to catch smoke with your hands. It feels like her words carry more weight than the moment.

"So, desire always comes with guilt?" you ask, trying to sound more curious than worried.

"It's not guilt that accompanies desire," she says, her eyes returning to the path ahead. "It's that desire makes us go against what we should be, what we've been told we should be. And then guilt arises, not because we've done something wrong, but because we desire what we've been taught to reject." She lets out a small laugh, but it's a dry sound, without joy. "Deep down, desire is a rebellion against morality. And every time we give in to it, we're challenging the world, the rules, what's right and wrong. But no one comes out of a challenge unscathed. There are always consequences."

"And you? Do you feel guilty about anything?" you ask before you wonder if maybe it's too much, but you don't regret it. You want to know who she is, to understand what's going on behind that face that seems so impenetrable.

She's silent again, and for a moment, you think she won't answer. But then she looks directly at you, her eyes dark and deep like the sea at night.

"Guilt? Of course. But guilt... guilt is proof that we're still alive. That it still matters, that we're still human." She smiles, but it's a sad smile. "I feel guilty because I desire what I shouldn't. Because deep down, I know I'm going against something bigger than myself. And it destroys me a little more each day."

And you realize, at that moment, that Shuhua is talking more about herself than any philosophy. That what she's saying isn't just theory, as real as the ground beneath your feet.

When you pass by a street artist, he observes you for a second, the pencil twirling between his fingers as if looking for his next masterpiece.

"You make a beautiful couple," he says, his tone casual, as if he already knew he was right. "How about a drawing of you two?"

You open your mouth to correct him, to say that no, you aren't a couple, but Shuhua is already agreeing.

"Sure," she says, pulling you to sit next to her on the bench.

The artist smiles, as if he knew the battle was won before it even began. He starts drawing, the pencil moving with the precision that only excessive practice can provide. You try to stay still, but you can't stop looking at Shuhua. The way she's relaxed, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. Her scent, a soft perfume, mixes with the breeze entering your lungs, and it's an addictive sensation.

Time passes, but you don't notice. Only the sound of the pencil scratching the paper, the distant waves, and her scent.

Finally, the artist stops, gives the drawing a final touch, and turns it to show you both. The paper reveals the two of you sitting together, but there's something more there. Something the artist captured, something you hadn't noticed until now. He drew you looking at Shuhua with an expression you didn't know you were making. Admiration. Fascination. As if she were something more than just a girl.

As if she were a muse, and you, an artist trapped in her beauty.

"You, my friend, look at her like you're trying to decipher a mystery," the artist says, handing you the paper.

Shuhua takes the drawing, and you pay the artist, still feeling that strange weight in your chest, as if something important had been revealed without your permission. You both stand up, thank him, and continue walking.

She looks at the drawing again, a subtle smile on her lips.

"I like it," she says, and you realize she's not just talking about the drawing.

The sound of the sea never stops, not for a second. It's always there, in the background, a constant reminder that you're close to something bigger, vaster than anything you can do or feel. The waves break, one after another, like the sound of a clock ticking in a time that no one can control.

The kiosk appears ahead, with its yellow lights that seem to blend with the color of the night sky. The tables are scattered around, some already occupied by couples and small groups chatting in low tones, laughing about something only they know. You choose an empty table, away from the others.

The waiter approaches, young and cheerful, wearing a casual floral shirt. He hands you the menu and disappears, leaving you alone. Shuhua flips through the menu as if she's looking for something she already knows she wants, but still enjoys seeing the options. You choose something simple, a random drink that won't make you seem out of your element.

"Do you always hit on tourist girls?" The question comes from her naturally. But there's something more there, a curiosity she's trying to hide, but you notice immediately.

You smile, one of those smiles that's hard to decipher.

"No."

She raises an eyebrow, as if not entirely convinced.

"Then why did you call me? The beach is full of girls much hotter than me, with tanned bodies and everything."

The waiter returns with the drinks, placing them on the table skillfully. Shuhua takes hers and sips, her eyes still fixed on you, waiting for an answer that makes sense in the world she knows.

"Because I don't care about that," you finally say. The drink is cold in your hand, and the taste is strong, but you don't look away. "It's been a while since I went out with any girl. The thing is, you're different, Shuhua, you caught my attention."

She pauses, the glass halfway between the table and her lips, as if waiting for you to say something more. But you don't. Because there's nothing more to say. And, for some reason, that seems to be enough for her.

Shuhua puts the glass back on the table but doesn't drink. She tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she's trying to see something beyond what's in front of her.

"You know," she says, "that almost sounds true."

You shrug, as if it wasn't a big deal, but you feel like something has changed in the air between you. As if the conversation had entered another territory, something deeper, closer to what really matters.

"Think what you want," you say, pretending not to care.

"Are you messing with me?" she asks, but now her tone is different. Lighter, almost playful.

"No," you reply, sincerely. And that's enough for her to believe you, at least for now.

You continue talking, about trivial things, about life, about what it’s like to study philosophy and what it means to work in something that isn’t your passion. But with every word, with every exchange of glances, you feel like you’re diving deeper, sinking into something more than just a night by the sea.

And her? She seems to relax, seems to accept what you’re offering, even though she’s still not sure exactly what that is. But there’s a sparkle in her eyes, a spark of interest that wasn’t there before. And that’s enough for you to keep going.

The waiter comes back to see if you two need anything else, but you don’t. Everything you want is there, on the table between you, in the air circulating around, in the words being spoken and those yet to come.

—

The boardwalk stretches out casually, Shuhua always by your side, her steps in sync with yours, as if you’ve done this many times before. But it’s the first time, and you’re still trying to figure out exactly what it means. The streets around are relatively quiet for a Friday night, with the distant murmur of other conversations floating in the air, but none of that matters much because, at this moment, it’s just the two of you.

“There’s a nice restaurant nearby, what do you think?” you ask her.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Shuhua replies. “Tell me the truth, were you nervous when you had to save that man?” she suddenly asks, curious to uncover what’s behind the tough lifeguard façade.

You glance at her sideways, a small smile on your lips as you respond.

“Actually, I was waiting for it. Patiently.”

She seems surprised by the answer, as if she expected something more heroic, something more dramatic. But the truth is much simpler.

“Since I completed training, I’ve never allowed myself to relax. I knew that, sooner or later, something like that would happen. It was just a matter of time.”

Shuhua lets out a small laugh, a soft, light sound, and shakes her head.

“That explains why you always seem so tense. I can see the tension in your shoulders.”

You raise an eyebrow, and there’s a playful note in your voice when you reply.

“Maybe if you gave me a massage, I’d feel better.”

“Maybe I will,” she says, and you know that part of her is really considering the idea.

The boardwalk unfolds ahead, a paved path that leads to anywhere you both decide to go. But before you can reach the restaurant you mentioned, something different catches your attention. A soft melody floats through the air, a mix of guitar, saxophone, and that unmistakable bossa nova beat. The kind of sound that makes you stop and listen, that reminds you there’s beauty in the world, even in the simplest things.

“Did you hear that?” you ask, but you don’t wait for an answer. Instead, you follow the sound, taking Shuhua with you until you find the source: a small band set up in the middle of the boardwalk, with simple instruments and an energy that doesn’t need a big audience to thrive.

And that’s when you do something that maybe even you didn’t expect. Pulling Shuhua by the hand, you lead her to the center of a small clearing among the people, a space that seems tailor-made for what you’re about to do next.

“You said I seemed tense,” you say, looking directly at her, a spark of challenge in your eyes. “Let’s see if I’m really that tense.”

And then you start dancing.

It’s nothing elaborate, nothing you need to think too much about. Just you, Shuhua, and the music. Your bodies move together as if there’s an invisible choreography that you both know but have never practiced. The rhythm of the bossa nova is smooth, easy to follow.

Shuhua watches you, her eyes shining with a mix of surprise and admiration.

“You dance well,” she says, and there’s a tone of genuine amazement in her voice.

“I did theater in school,” you reply, spinning her gently, as if proving there’s still more for her to discover about you. “I was in a few musicals. Nothing major.”

She laughs, her head tilted back, her hair falling like a black cascade that seems to absorb the light around. “I didn’t expect that from you.”

“I’m a guy full of surprises,” you say, and you know it’s a little true.

The music continues, and you keep dancing, lost in this moment that belongs only to you two. Every move, every step seems to free her a little more.

When the music finally ends, you and Shuhua stop, a bit out of breath but with smiles on your faces that don’t need any explanation. The small crowd around you applauds softly, and the band moves on to another song, but for the two of you, this moment has passed, it has fulfilled its purpose.

“Shall we go to the restaurant?” you ask, and she agrees, still smiling.

—

The restaurant is a hidden gem, the kind of place you only find if you know exactly what you’re looking for. It's near the boardwalk, just a few steps from the beach, where the sound of the waves mixed with live music creates an atmosphere that makes everything feel lighter, simpler. The tables are made of worn wood, coated with a thin layer of varnish that doesn’t hide the years of use but instead gives each one a kind of rustic charm. The chairs match, creaking slightly every time someone sits down, but no one seems to mind. Everyone is here for the same reason: good food, a fresh breeze, and a night that doesn’t seem in any hurry to end.

The outdoor tables are filled with couples, friends, and tourists who stumbled upon this place by chance. The lights strung between the posts sway gently, bathing everything in a golden glow that makes people’s skin look warmer, more alive. In the center of the restaurant, there's an outdoor grill, where the chef, a robust man with agile hands, flips fish and seafood over the flames with enviable skill.

You and Shuhua choose a table in the corner, close enough to the grill to feel the warmth but far enough that the smell of smoke doesn’t overwhelm anyone. She looks around, taking it all in as if she's absorbing the details to store them in her memory, and you realize that she does this with everything—every moment, every detail is important to her, which only heightens the sense that she’s just passing through.

The waiter, a middle-aged man with an easy smile, brings the menu, and you order without much ceremony: grilled fish, shrimp seasoned with garlic and herbs, and a white wine to go with it. The conversation flows naturally, filled with laughter and glances that last a second longer than necessary. The food is good, simple, and flavorful—the kind of meal that satisfies without pretense.

As dinner progresses, you can’t help but notice how completely comfortable Shuhua seems in her own skin, how she has a keen awareness of who she is and what she wants. She talks about her philosophy studies with a passion that makes even the most abstract concepts feel tangible, real. And as you listen to her, a part of you feels increasingly drawn not just to her obvious beauty but to the depth she reveals with every sentence, every gesture.

At one point, between a sip of wine and a bite of fish, you lean in a little closer, taking advantage of the intimate atmosphere to ask what’s been on your mind since the beginning of the night.

“When you go back home... can we keep in touch? I mean, you could give me your Instagram or something. You’re a cool, interesting girl. I’d like to get to know you better.”

There’s a second of silence, an almost imperceptible pause before Shuhua responds. She carefully places her fork on the plate, and when she looks at you, there’s a softness in her eyes that wasn’t there before. But there’s also something else, something you didn’t expect.

“You’re sweet,” she says, her voice almost too gentle—the kind of voice you use when you’re about to let someone down. “And you seem like the type who does everything for the girl you like. But... I don’t want you to get any feelings, whatever we are right now. This is casual, you know? I just want to make that clear so you don’t get hurt later.”

Her words fall on you like an unexpected weight, crushing the small hope that had been growing inside you since the moment she asked you to take her picture on the beach. You remain silent for a moment, trying to process what she said, trying to mask the disappointment that inevitably begins to set in.

“I understand,” you finally say, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, a hollow smile that you hope isn’t as transparent as it feels to you. “Of course. No problem.”

The conversation continues, but there’s a subtle shift in tone, a new layer of distance. You make a conscious effort to keep things light, to not let on that her words affected you more than you’d like to admit. Shuhua, for her part, seems relieved to have laid everything out in the open, and she returns to being the same bright, spontaneous girl she was before, as if what she just said didn’t matter in the slightest.

Apparently.

Dinner finally ends, and as you wait for the bill, Shuhua mentions that she’s staying at a nearby inn. You consider her words for a moment, knowing this is a fork in the road, that whatever you decide next will determine the course of the night.

“My place isn’t far from here,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual. “If you want, you can stay over.”

She looks at you, her eyes shining under the restaurant's soft lights, and for a moment, you think she’s going to refuse. But then she smiles, a small, pleasant smile that seems like it might vanish at any moment.

“Sure,” she replies. “Let’s go.”

And with that, the night’s fate is sealed. You pay the bill, leave a generous tip, and together, you walk out of the restaurant, back to the boardwalk, which now feels even more deserted, more silent. It’s getting late, and the streets are emptying out, except for a few passersby who are in no hurry to get anywhere, and the sea breeze feels a bit cooler, carrying with it the scent of salt and something else, something indefinable that mingles with the excitement and nervousness growing inside you.

The walk to your place is short, and as you walk side by side, not saying much, you can’t help but wonder what exactly will happen when you finally get there. But at the same time, you know that’s a question that can only be answered when the door closes behind you, when words are no longer necessary.

—

Your home is modest but cozy—the kind of place that reflects the lifestyle of someone who spends more time outdoors than within four walls. Shuhua places the drawing of the two of you on the counter, says it’s all yours, and casually begins to observe the surroundings. The walls are a soft beige, and the floor is covered with a simple carpet. The living room is dominated by a comfortable sofa, a TV that seems barely used, and a similarly untouched video game console. There isn’t much in terms of decoration, but there’s a certain order to the chaos, as if everything has its place. A guitar resting in a corner and some posters of classic bands hint at personal tastes that go beyond the lifeguard job.

You offer her wine, a bottle of red that you’d been saving for a special occasion.

You pour the drink, trying to appear calm, but your movements are deliberately slow, as if prolonging something that shouldn’t be prolonged. Shuhua sits on the sofa, her legs gracefully crossed, the dress revealing a bit more of her pale thighs as she adjusts herself. She accepts the glass of wine, but her gaze is firm, determined.

She’s not here for the details of your decor, to watch that new Netflix series, or to talk about the idiotic lives of celebrities; she’s here for you.

"If we're going to do this, let’s do it now," she says after taking a sip of the wine, placing the glass on the coffee table. Her voice is almost a whisper, but it carries a calculated firmness. "Let's not prolong the formalities."

The sound of her voice resonates within you, making your heart race.

"I wasn’t sure you wanted the same thing as me..."

You approach her, setting your glass aside as well, your hands trembling slightly, but it’s desire that guides every movement.

Shuhua doesn’t wait. She leans forward, capturing your lips with hers, a kiss that starts soft but quickly intensifies. Her lips are soft, but there’s an urgency in the way she moves her tongue, exploring every corner of your mouth. Her small, delicate hands slide to the buttons of your shirt, undoing them with impressive dexterity.

She climbs onto your lap, your bodies touching only through the thin fabric of your clothes. The heat that emanates is good, it’s alive, but you want more. Your hands trace the outline of her hips, sliding down to her thighs, pulling her closer. Her response is immediate: a sigh, a small moan that escapes her lips as she presses her body against yours.

Shuhua pulls back slightly, just enough to remove your shirt and toss it aside. Her eyes travel over your body, admiring what she sees.

"You’re really hot," she murmurs. Her fingers trace invisible lines on your skin, exploring every muscle. "I’ve never fucked a lifeguard before."

“Well, I’ve never fucked a philosophy student,” you say. Your hands slide down her back to her waist, where you hold her firmly, pulling her even closer. The fabric of her dress is an obstacle you want to remove, but there’s something about prolonging this moment, savoring every touch.

The kisses continue for a while longer, until, without warning, she slides off your lap and kneels on the floor in front of you, her hands reaching for your pants, fingers swiftly unbuttoning the zipper with a speed that catches you off guard. She pulls your pants and underwear down, freeing your hard cock. You somehow feel vulnerable as Shuhua wraps her hand around the base of your cock, her eyes never leaving yours, a gaze that’s both intimidating and full of desire. With a decisive move, she leans in, taking your cock into her mouth.

The warmth and wetness are familiar, but there’s a newness to it—you’ve never felt a mouth so small, lips so soft, and a tongue so skilled sucking you off before. She turns a simple blowjob into something divine. You moan, your head falling back, fingers tangling in her hair as she continues to work you. Every movement of her tongue is calculated, teasing. She uses slow and fast sucks to give you pleasure. The pressure in your body builds, pleasure taking over your mind.

You want to fuck her.

But Shuhua doesn’t stop. She quickens her pace, the moans escaping her throat as she dedicates herself to the task with a commitment that nearly destroys you. When you feel like you’re on the verge of losing control, you pull her up, panting, and place her back on the sofa. She smiles, satisfied, as if she had been expecting this exact reaction.

Now it’s your turn to worship her with your tongue. You remove your shoes and fully take off the pants that were hanging below your knees. You pull up her dress slightly, and that’s when you realize she wasn’t wearing any panties. The shock of this revelation only intensifies your desire. She’s completely exposed to you, her skin smooth and warm under your hands. You kiss her again, with more hunger, your fingers exploring the wetness between her legs. Shuhua writhes under your touch, small moans escaping her lips as you stimulate her.

"I'm getting so wet," she whispers, her voice trembling with pleasure. There’s a mischievous glint in your eyes; you’re not willing to stop. You make her kneel on the sofa, turning her back to you. Shuhua pulls her dress up to her waist to reveal her perfectly round, juicy ass, practically begging for you to eat her pussy. You position yourself behind her, lowering your body, your mouth now replacing your fingers, exploring her with even more curiosity. Your tongue slides along her pussy.

Shuhua's moans grow louder, more intense, as her hands grip the back of the sofa tightly. When you sense she’s on the verge of exploding, you pull back, watching her with a desire to make her feel even more pleasure.

Then, without warning, she stands up, pulling the dress over her head and tossing it to the floor. She’s completely naked before you, and the desire burns even stronger in your chest. You sit on the sofa, and she climbs onto your lap, guiding your cock inside her with an ease that makes you sigh.

Her warmth envelops you completely. She lets out a small moan, closing her eyes for a moment, absorbing every inch as she settles. Her hands rest on your shoulders, nails lightly digging into your skin as she begins to move.

She starts at a slow pace, almost as if savoring the sensation, but soon she picks up speed, her body moving with a determination that leaves you breathless. Her tits sway gently with each movement, and you can’t resist the temptation to wrap one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking intensely. Shuhua lets out a louder moan, tilting her head back.

"You like this, don’t you? You like it when I ride your cock," she murmurs, her voice melting with the pleasure she feels. She smiles provocatively, her eyes locked on yours as she continues to move at a rhythm that drives you crazier by the second.

"Yeah, a lot," you respond through gritted teeth, your hands gripping her hips tightly, helping her maintain the rhythm. The feeling of being inside her, warm and wet, makes you crave more, much more.

Shuhua leans forward, her lips almost touching yours, her breath hot and quick against your mouth.

"Then fuck me harder," she whispers, the provocation in her voice as clear as day.

The urgency in her words awakens something wild inside you. Your fingers tangle in her hair, pulling her into a fierce kiss. In response, she rides you faster, moaning against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as you increase the pace. Your hands move to her ass, squeezing and urging Shuhua to ride with even more intensity.

The pleasure makes your head spin, the room around you seeming to disappear, leaving only the sound of your bodies colliding, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

"Just like that," she moans. "Fuck me hard! Don’t stop, don’t stop."

The pleasure is overwhelming, guiding you to a speed that makes every touch feel more intense than it should. Shuhua writhes on top of you, sweat dripping down her skin as she gives in completely to the sensation. Her face is flushed, her eyes half-closed, and she bites her lower lip, trying to stifle the moans that escape her lips, but failing at the task.

"You’re going to make me come," she whispers, the words broken up by moans. Her gaze is a mix of lust and vulnerability, as if she’s at the mercy of the pleasure you’re giving her.

"Then cum for me," you respond, your voice low and laden with desire. Your hands grip her hips firmly. "Cum on my cock, babe!"

Shuhua responds to the command, her movements becoming erratic as the climax nears. She lets out a scream, her whole body trembling as pleasure overtakes her, and you feel the contractions around you, each pulse intensifying the pleasure already consuming you.

"Oh, God..." She gasps, her nails scratching your shoulders as her body writhes on yours. She’s completely lost in the moment, her face a mask of ecstasy as she continues to move, prolonging the pleasure as much as she can.

When it finally seems like she can’t take any more, Shuhua stops, panting, her eyes shining with satisfaction as she gazes at you.

"You made me cum so hard," she murmurs, a lascivious smile playing on her lips.

You smile back and reply:

"But I’m not done with you yet."

Before she has a chance to fully recover, you firmly grab her by the hips and lift her into the air, your bodies still connected.

Shuhua lets out a surprised gasp, her arms wrapping around your neck as you lift her. Her legs tighten around your waist, her fingers digging into your back as she feels you moving inside her again. The sensation is deeper in this position, each thrust pushing you further inside, making her moan loudly in your ear. Your bodies are pressed together, your sweat mingling as you fuck her in the air, your movements decisive and full of desire.

"Oh, yes... like that!" she moans, her voice trembling with pleasure. You can feel how intense the sensation is for her, the way her body clenches around yours, responding to every thrust. "Fuck, you're so hot!"

Each movement is stronger than the last, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room, mingling with Shuhua's moans and sighs.

You keep her in the air, her legs around your waist, as you quicken the pace, your thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. Each movement intensifies the sensation in your body. Shuhua is completely lost in the moment, her face buried in your neck, her moans muffled but impossible to contain. She bites lightly into your shoulder, a mix of pain and pleasure that makes you gasp heavily, feeling her tremble as she cums again, her contractions increasing the pressure around you.

But you don't stop. Even when you feel her body trembling, her breath hot against your skin, you carry her to the table, driven by desire. With a firm movement, you set her down on the ground, still holding her by the hips as she leans against the table. Shuhua arches her back, and without much delay, you start fucking her again, the new position making her let out a deep moan, pleasure once again taking over her.

"I'm not stopping until you cum again," you murmur in her ear, your voice deep and filled with desire.

"Yes! Make me cum again! Mmm, so good," she responds, her voice completely surrendered, almost pleading. Shuhua places her hands on the table, her body leaning forward as you take her from behind. The sight of her in this position, completely exposed and vulnerable, makes your desire explode.

Shuhua moans loudly, her head falling forward as you fuck her hard, the table creaking under the intensity. Each thrust is powerful. She holds onto the table tightly, her moans turning into screams as the pleasure builds.

When you feel she's about to cum again, you turn her to face you. Shuhua smiles, panting, her eyes shining. She climbs onto the table, lying on her back, her legs spreading for you in a sight that almost makes you want to eat her pussy again.

She exposes herself completely, offering herself to you.

"Come on, fuck me until I can't take it anymore!" she says, her voice low and dripping with lust.

You position yourself between her legs, feeling the heat and wetness of her pussy already dripping down her thighs, then you start penetrating her again. Shuhua cries out, her moans reverberating through the room as you fuck her hard. The table shakes under your combined weight, the intense sounds of pleasure filling the air.

You fuck her with everything you've got, each thrust more intense than the last, the pleasure building to a point of no return. The rhythm between you becomes more frantic, desperate, until you bring her to another orgasm. Shuhua is completely lost in the sensation, her eyes closed, her mouth open in a cry of pleasure. The heat of her body, the feeling of her sweaty skin against yours, the sound of her moans—it all drives you wild.

Your hand slides down to Shuhua's belly, feeling her tense muscles, and you realize you're on the brink of exploding.

"I'm gonna cum," you warn, your voice cut off by the effort to stay in control. But Shuhua doesn't want you to hold back.

"Then cum," she responds. "Cum in me, I want to feel you."

Those words are what make you lose control. You let out a deep moan, your whole body trembling as you finally give in to the climax. With one last deep thrust, you bury yourself inside her, and then, with a quick motion, you pull out, jerking off as the pleasure overtakes you.

The first spurt of cum covers Shuhua's belly, hot and thick, spreading across her pale skin. She lets out a low moan at the feeling of the warmth on her skin, her eyes closed as she absorbs the sensation. You continue, each pulse sending more cum onto her, covering her abdomen, the base of her tits, until there's nothing left to give.

When the last spasm passes, you hold the base of your cock, feeling it pulse lightly, still sensitive. Shuhua opens her eyes, watching you with a provocative smile.

"Is there still more in there?" she asks, her voice soft but full of mischief.

You smile, tired but not done.

"Maybe a little more," you reply, leaning down to rub the head of your cock on her thigh, spreading the remaining cum on her soft skin. The sensation is electric, a mix of pleasure and sensitivity that makes you shiver.

Shuhua watches every movement, biting her lip as you spread the cum on her thigh, mingling with the sweat that glistens under the soft light of the room.

"Yes, paint me all over," she whispers, her voice low and filled with desire. "It's so delicious to feel you like this, hot, still turned on by me."

She reaches out, her fingers gently caressing the head of your cock, still sensitive, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

"I could do this all day," she murmurs, her tone a blend of sweetness and malice. "I love seeing how you react to my touch, how you moan helplessly with every caress."

You can't help but close your eyes and sigh as she presses gently, her thumb grazing the frenulum as you continue to rub the head of your cock on her skin.

"Don't stop," you plead, your voice hoarse, almost desperate. Her touch is both torturous and pleasurable, a mix that makes you crave more, even after you've been spent.

Shuhua smiles, satisfied with your reaction, and continues, teasing you until every part of your body is trembling with the intensity of the moment. Finally, she stops, her fingers still sliding softly across your skin, and she looks at you with a gaze that weakens you before her.

"It's been a long time since I fucked someone with this much passion," she comments, her voice soft and filled with complicity. "You really wanted me, didn't you?"

—

You wake up to the barely perceptible sound of her footsteps on the wooden floor, the sun seeping through the half-closed curtains, filling the room with a soft, golden light. The warmth of her body still lingers in the bed, her presence imprinted on the rumpled sheets and on the pillow where her scent has mixed with yours. You’re not sure exactly what woke you—maybe it was the sound of her breathing, or the slow movement of her bare feet, trying to avoid the spots where the floor creaks. Maybe it was the absence of her body’s weight beside you.

She’s there, at the edge of the bed, wearing one of your shirts thrown over her body, long enough to cover halfway down her thighs. She’s not really trying to escape, not truly. But there’s a carefulness in her every movement, a hesitation that screams of an attempt to slip away without making a sound. She’s leaving, and you feel a pang of fear, something you didn’t want to feel, something you didn’t expect.

You watch her for a moment, her loose hair falling in waves undone by nights of sleep, the curve of her back outlined beneath the soft fabric of your shirt. She’s facing away from you, and you realize she hasn’t even noticed that you’re awake.

With minimal effort, you slide out of bed, your feet touching the cold floor as you quietly approach her from behind. And then, before she can react, before she can think of really fleeing, you wrap your arms around her, pulling her close, closer than you should, as if proximity could make her stay, as if your touch could be enough to anchor her there.

“Stay a little longer,” you murmur against her neck, your lips brushing the warm, soft skin as your hands glide over her waist, holding her with a need that doesn’t make sense to you. “Just a little longer.”

She flinches for a second, her body tense against yours, but then she relaxes, sighing as if exhaling all the resistance she had stored within herself. “I can’t,” she whispers, but her voice lacks conviction, as if she’s only saying it because it’s what she thinks she should say.

“Of course you can,” you insist, moving your hands to her shoulders, massaging gently, while your lips continue to explore her neck, the curve of her jaw, the spot where her skin is most sensitive. “Just a little longer, and then I’ll make breakfast. Like a good host.”

She lets out a soft chuckle as she leans back, surrendering to the warmth, to the moment, even if only for a fleeting instant.

“You know this isn’t right,” she murmurs, but her hands find yours, and she intertwines her fingers with yours, pulling you back to the bed.

“Maybe,” you admit, as you lie down together, her body curled up in your arms, her breath mingling with yours. “But who cares?”

She sighs again, as if giving up on fighting, and you stay there, lying together, exchanging gentle caresses, stolen kisses, and embraces that should mean less than they actually do. Her body fits perfectly against yours, and for a moment, everything feels right, everything feels exactly as it should be. But then she pulls away, just a little, enough to look you in the eyes, and there’s a seriousness in her gaze that you hadn’t noticed before.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she says, her voice firmer, more determined. “I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

You look at her, trying to understand what she’s saying, trying to decipher what’s behind those words.

“I won’t get hurt,” you respond, even though you know it’s not entirely true. “I just want you to stay.”

“And that’s what worries me,” she whispers, before getting out of bed again, the shirt still loosely draped over her body. “Come on, get up. I want coffee.”

You obey, even though part of you wants to drag her back to bed, keep her there, where everything seems simpler. But you get up, wearing only the sweatpants that were tossed beside the bed, and head to the kitchen to make breakfast. The smell of fresh coffee and toast fills the air as you fry some eggs and prepare slices of bread with butter and jam.

When you set the table, she’s already dressed in the dress from the night before, sitting at the table, watching you with a look that’s both curious and cautious. As if she’s trying to decide what to do with you, with what you two are—or aren’t.

“So,” you begin, as you sit down next to her, passing her a mug of coffee. “Tell me more about yourself. What do you do besides studying philosophy? Seriously, where are you from, anyway?”

She smiles, but it’s a fleeting smile, almost as if she’s trying to protect herself.

“It doesn’t matter where I’m from. And I don’t do much,” she responds, shrugging. “I travel when I can. I like to read. Sometimes I write.”

“Write?” you ask, intrigued. “What do you write?”

“Poetry, mostly,” she replies, but her tone is vague, as if she doesn’t want to delve into the subject.

You realize you won’t get much more out of her, so you change the topic, talking about light things, things of no importance. But you can’t shake the feeling that she’s keeping her distance, hiding something, and that only makes you want to know more.

“I want to see you later,” you say, almost without thinking, as you bring the coffee cup to your lips. “What do you think?”

She smiles again, but this time her smile is a bit more genuine.

“I’ll be the one to see you,” she responds, a sparkle in her eyes. “When I have time.”

That’s not what you wanted to hear, but before you can respond, she stands up, grabbing her bag and getting ready to leave. You follow her to the door, your heart racing, knowing you need to say something, anything.

“Shuhua,” you begin, hesitant. “I like you.”

She pauses, her hand on the doorknob, and turns to you, her eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and something you can’t quite identify. She shakes her head slightly, a small smile on her lips.

“I know,” she says softly. “But you’d better stop.”

And with that, she opens the door and leaves, leaving you alone in what’s left of a morning that should have been more than just another fleeting moment. And as you watch her walk away, a part of you knows she’s right, that maybe it’s better to stop. But another part, the part that still smells her on your sheets, that still tastes her on your lips, knows that you won’t be able to.

—

You’re sitting outside the lifeguard tower, on a wooden stool that always creaks a little, with the sun beating down on the sea and the beer cans stacked in a corner. Fourth? Fifth? Who’s really counting? The salt in the air, the heat. You’re relaxed, or at least you try to be. The sea foam dissolves into small waves, seagulls crying out as usual, and you almost forget everything. Almost. Until the sound of footsteps on the sand makes you open your eyes, and you see, like a ray of sun directly in your eyes, your father, arriving all beaming, that smile plastered on his face that you know well, almost a mask. But you know it’s real.

“Son, how many times do I have to tell you not to drink on the job?” he says, still smiling, but with a tone that can’t be ignored.

“I’m fine, I’m not drunk.” You respond, taking the can from your mouth and looking at him, defiant. You see the shadow of that smile fade a little, but he still keeps the sparkle in his eyes.

“If you have to do a rescue now, there’d be two drowned instead of one. That’s not what you were trained for, that’s not what your mother...”

He stops before finishing the sentence, as if the words dry up in his mouth. You look at him and feel that familiar discomfort. The pain that comes like an undertow, silent, but it pulls you down, without warning.

“I don’t care about drowning, honestly. Lifeguards are also at risk of drowning, you know. It’s just part of the job, I guess.” The words come out easier than you expected, but they hang in the air like cigarette smoke, hard to dissipate.

Your father looks at you, and the smile vanishes completely. He comes closer, crouching down to your eye level.

“What’s happening with you?”

You shake your head, trying to escape, but he keeps looking, with that piercing gaze. And then you give in, just a little.

“How do you do it? How do you stay like this, cheerful, even after she… left?”

He understands immediately, his expression softens, a little sad, but still firm.

“Because one day I’ll see her again.”

You look at him, unable to believe how easily he talks about it.

“And until then? How do you cope?”

“Until then, I look forward to that day.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and pulls you out of the cabin, the sun burning even more outside. He points to the pier, where the waves break gently, the sea calm, almost as if it’s waiting for something. “Your mother took me there one night, when we were young. She told me that if our souls were ever separated, we could meet again there, when the moon was full. Its light would make a silver bridge over the sea, and no matter where we were, we could reunite on that night.”

You stay silent, digesting every word, feeling the truth, heavy and luminous like the sun. That piece of history you never knew, a connection that was always there, but only now you can see. He looks at you again, a small smile at the corner of his lips.

“She never told me that.”

“There are many things we don’t know until we’re ready to know.” He gives your shoulder a light pat, something he’s always done to show he’s there, that he understands you.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel better. Just a little. But it’s enough to face the rest of the day.

—

You're walking along the boardwalk, with that killer sun reflecting off every piece of glass, metal, and tanned skin around. Your sunglasses cover more than just your eyes; they cover any trace of expression you don’t want to show. You pretend you’re just like everyone else, but every step, every movement is rehearsed, calculated to appear as relaxed as possible. The sea breeze carries the smell of salt and fried food, but you barely notice. Your vision is the only sense consciously operating, searching for one thing, or rather, one person.

And then, like a mirage in the desert, you see her. Shuhua, the girl of your thoughts. The wide-brimmed beach hat casting a shadow that draws half her face, her hair falling like a veil underneath. She’s smiling, waving, a vision amidst the chaos of half-naked bodies and hysterical laughter. You raise your hand to wave back, but then, right in the middle of it, the unexpected happens. A group of girls—bronzed bodies, bikinis too small, laughter too loud—bumps into you. They smile, toss their hair back, one of them even does that rehearsed laugh, like she’s in a summer commercial.

They start to circle you, flirting, their eyes lingering and hungry, their fingers almost touching your arms, your shoulders, inviting you to show them the beach in a way only you could.

“Hey, lifeguard, how about showing us where the best spot on the beach is?” one of them says, her voice full of insinuation.

You feel the heat rise, but it’s not the sun. It’s not the attraction you’d normally feel at another time. It’s not desire. It’s discomfort, the urgency to get away, to remove this obstacle. You look at Shuhua, see that she’s stopped, and for a second, just for a second, you think she’s going to turn around and leave. And that scares you more than the thought of having to redo lifeguard training.

“Sorry, girls, but I’m busy.” You spit the phrase out like you’re spitting sand from your mouth. A quick smile and you practically flee from the group, who giggle and make comments around you, but you no longer care.

You hurry toward Shuhua, and when you finally get close enough, she lets out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh.

“You seem to have a lot of fans around here,” she says, teasing, but with a tone that hides a hint of curiosity.

“They’re nothing, less than nothing,” you reply quickly, maybe too quickly. “I was looking for you.” And it’s not a lie. Not at all.

She smiles, her eyes narrowing under the hat, and for a moment, you think she really believes you.

“So, you found me. I was heading for lunch. Want to join me?”

As if she needed to ask.

“Sure,” you respond, with an enthusiasm even you don’t recognize.

As you walk to the restaurant, the tension in your shoulders that you always carry seems to dissolve a bit. Maybe it’s the sun, or the way she laughs at something you don’t even know. Maybe it’s just the fact that she’s here, beside you, and doesn’t seem to want to be anywhere else.

In the restaurant, the menu is simple, but who cares? Her eyes are on you, and you realize, for the first time, that she’s a bit smitten. In a way that makes your chest swell a bit because you know, without needing words, that she’s finding you interesting. Maybe more than she should.

“Do you have plans for later?” you ask, trying to sound casual as the food is placed on the table.

She looks up, that look that seems to pierce through you, but in a good way.

“Depends. What do you have in mind?”

You release the smile you’ve been holding back, the one you rarely use but know works.

“How about an ATV ride? At night. The beach is beautiful at night.”

She tilts her head, the hat almost falling, but it stays in place.

“Is that allowed?” she asks, but there’s a hint of mischief in her voice that says she knows the answer.

“No one needs to know.” Your answer is as quick as the beats of your heart.

She pretends to think, her eyes gleaming with a playful amusement you could almost touch.

“I think I can take the risk. Where and when?”

You already have the whole plan in your head. The meeting point, the path you’ll take. Everything is already planned.

“At nine, at the lifeguard station near the pier. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

She smiles, that smile that makes everything lighter, and you feel… complete.

“Then it’s a date.”

And just like that, with this simple nod from fate, you have the night planned. Something that calms the anxiety churning in your gut. Because this girl, this girl named Shuhua, she’s more than just a summer fling. Even if she never knows it. Even if you never say it. She’s the now, and for you, the now is all that matters.

—

Nine o'clock. The night breeze licks the beach, carrying the scent of salt, and the sound of the waves is the only thing grounding you to reality. The ATV is already waiting, and so are you. Adrenaline courses through your veins, mixed with a dose of anxiety. You wonder if she’ll show up. If tonight will be as good as you imagined a thousand times during the day.

And then, as if on cue, Shuhua appears on the horizon. The beach hat is left somewhere far away, her hair loose, blowing in the wind. She smiles in that way that illuminates even the darkest corners of your mind. She approaches with a confidence that makes the ground under your feet feel more solid, and you realize the wait was worth it.

“I hope this ATV is as fun as you promised,” she jokes, eyeing the sturdy machine like it’s a new toy.

“I promise you won’t regret it,” you say, helping her onto the ATV. She settles in behind you, her hands sliding around your waist until they find a comfortable position.

And then, without much thought, you accelerate.

The ATV surges forward across the sand, the wheels kicking up fine clouds that dissipate into the air. The engine roars, cutting through the night’s silence, and you feel Shuhua press against your back, an automatic reflex that makes your heart beat faster.

As the ATV picks up speed, the wind starts to whip across your faces, and Shuhua, without any warning, lets out a scream of pure joy. A sound that bursts into the night, echoing on the beach, and makes you smile uncontrollably. “Faster!” she shouts, her voice blending with the noise of the engine and the waves.

You obey, because, damn, how could you not? You push the throttle, feeling the ATV almost lift off the sand. The wind cuts across your face, almost painful, but it’s a pain you want to prolong. Shuhua keeps shouting, laughing with a freedom you can’t quite understand but desperately want to feel. And it’s as if, for a few minutes, the two of you are the only living beings in that slice of the world. Just you, the night, and the sea.

Eventually, you slow down because even freedom has its limits. Then you find a spot where the sand seems finer, almost white under the moonlight. You turn off the engine, and for a moment, everything returns to absolute silence. But it’s a good silence, for now, it’s good.

Shuhua climbs off the ATV, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She takes a few steps on the sand, looking around the beach. “Look,” she says, pointing to something on the ground. You move closer and see that they’re crabs, dozens of them, emerging from the sand and scattering across the beach like a small horde of creatures escaping from a nightmare. But there’s nothing threatening about it. Just nature in motion.

You both watch in silence for a while, each lost in your own thoughts, until you decide to break the silence.

“What did you do during the day?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

She hesitates, as if searching for the right answer.

“I went to the aquarium… and to a museum,” she finally responds, but something in the way she says it tells you there’s more she’s not revealing.

“Oh, cool,” you say, pretending not to notice. “There’s an institution nearby where kids learn to play instruments and make crafts. I thought about taking you there tomorrow. It’s amazing what they can do.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, but without the certainty you expected.

“We're talking about the last day,” you reply, and the sincerity in your voice makes her waver. You can see she’s considering it, weighing the options in her head.

She sighs, maybe accepting the inevitable.

“Okay, but only because it’s the last day,” she agrees, and you feel a small victory inside.

But before you can savor the moment, she changes the subject.

“I’m hungry. Take me somewhere that doesn’t serve seafood, please.”

You chuckle because, of course. Just because you’re at the beach doesn’t mean you have to eat seafood until you’re sick of it.

“How about pizza? There’s a pizzeria close by.”

“Hmm, great choice.”

And then, without further words, you help her back onto the ATV, and you head toward the city. The engine rumbles, the waves keep crashing on the beach, and you realize that, for a brief moment, everything feels right.

—

The pizzeria is one of those places that seems to have been founded alongside the city. The kind of place where the floor tiles have decades of history from people coming and going, dragging their feet without caring about what they leave behind. The walls are covered with black-and-white photos from old times, local landmarks, and some faded images of retired football players. Soft yellow lights, encased in rusty metal lamps, cast a tired glow over the wooden tables, where checkered tablecloths are worn from use.

The smell is a mix of melted cheese, tomato sauce, and something you can only describe as nostalgia. An old jukebox in the corner plays a melody no one is really listening to, but that somehow completes the scene. Shuhua chooses a table near the window, maybe to look outside, maybe to avoid having to look directly into your eyes. You're not sure. But it doesn’t matter either.

You order a pepperoni pizza because it’s the safest choice, and she agrees. While you wait, the waiter, who’s probably been there since the place opened, brings two beers without even asking. He must know it’s the only thing worth drinking here.

Shuhua fiddles with the rim of the bottle, her long, slender fingers sliding over the cold glass surface. There’s a nervousness in her movements, but you’re not sure if it’s because of you or because she’s with you.

You decide to break the tension… and ask what's been on your mind since morning.

“So, how long have you two been together?” Your voice sounds more normal than you expected.

She looks at you, confused.

“What do you mean?”

You take a sip of the beer, trying to appear relaxed.

“You and your boyfriend. How long have you been together?”

She hesitates, her eyes flickering from side to side as if searching for an invisible escape. Then, something changes. She gives up the lie she was about to tell.

“How did you find out?”

You lean forward, feeling the weight of the moment.

“I’m not stupid, Shuhua. It’s the only explanation for the way you’re acting. When we’re together, sometimes you look around as if you’re expecting someone to see you. That’s not paranoia. It’s guilt.”

Shuhua smiles, but it’s a humorless smile, something forced.

“Besides being a hot lifeguard, you’re also perceptive.”

You don’t care about the compliment.

“How long have you been together?”

She sighs, as if tired of hiding something that shouldn’t even be hidden.

“Since high school.”

Her words fall heavy between you, like a revealed secret that should never have been shared. You feel a pang of something, maybe jealousy, maybe anger, but you don’t let it show.

“Do you love him?” The question comes out before you can think.

She looks directly into your eyes, defiant.

“What difference does it make?”

You don’t look away.

“Answer honestly.”

A bitter laugh escapes her, laced with irony.

“It doesn’t matter what I answer. You still want to fuck me tonight, don’t you?”

Her bluntness stings, but you stand your ground.

“Why isn’t he traveling with you?”

She looks out the window, maybe trying to remember something good about the boyfriend she left behind.

“He’s taking care of his mother. Post-surgery. She had a mastectomy. It’s not serious, she’s fine, but she needs assistance. He didn’t want me to cancel the trip just because of him.”

You nod, not really knowing what to say. Then, you take a chance on another question.

“Why are you doing this?”

She hesitates, as if struggling with something inside her, and doesn’t answer.

“When did you figure it out?”

You shrug.

“This morning, when you left my place. I spent the whole morning thinking about you, about the night and the conversation we had, and eventually, I realized.”

Shuhua seems to absorb this information, and then she asks you something you didn’t expect.

“What does that make me?” You don’t have a ready answer. But she continues. “Are you still as interested as before?”

You lean forward, your eyes fixed on hers.

“At this moment, nothing else matters. I’m yours.”

She lowers her gaze to the table, the tips of her fingers sliding along the wood.

“Am I bad for doing this? You must think I’m a dirty person.”

You take her hand.

“I don’t care. I just.. don’t care. Shuhua, I like you so much, and if you like me too, that’s enough.”

Silence falls between you. This time it’s heavy, full of things that corrode, but somehow relieved by at least being shared.

Shuhua looks at you, her eyes softening a little.

“Take me to your place.”

You nod, saying nothing more. The waiter brings the pizza, but the hunger has been replaced by something greater. The bill is paid, the exit is quick, and the night air of the beach greets you like a cold embrace.

You realize that what’s happening is something you’ll never fully understand. But for now, you let yourself believe that maybe tomorrow you’ll understand a little better. Because believing is better than nothing.

—

You both enter the house in a burst of desire, your bodies colliding as if drawn together by an irresistible force. The kisses are urgent, hungry, a battle of tongues and teeth that almost makes you forget to close the door. Hands slide everywhere, eliciting moans and gasps of pleasure as they desperately try to rid you of the remaining barriers of fabric between you. Her breath is hot against your face, and her scent—a mix of soft perfume and pure excitement—invades your senses, making your heart pound in your chest.

Wasting no time, you gently push her down to the floor, your lips still locked on hers but soon trailing off to explore her neck, jawline, every inch of exposed skin you can reach. The salty taste of her skin, mixed with the heat radiating from her body, only heightens your desire. You feel her squirm beneath you, her nails scratching your back through your shirt in a desperate gesture.

There’s a brief moment where you both separate just enough to remove the remaining clothes. The sound of fabric being torn off, the muffled moans as eager hands explore each other's bodies, all blend into a cacophony of desire. When you’re finally both naked, the sight of Shuhua lying there, breathless, her eyes half-closed with pleasure and anticipation, is enough to drive you wild.

She lies back again, spreading her legs, offering herself to you without hesitation. The sight of her pussy, wet and throbbing, makes your cock throb with anticipation. Without wasting time, you lower yourself, your hot breath against her sensitive skin, before sliding your tongue slowly between her pussy lips, savoring every drop of pleasure. The taste is intoxicating, something that makes you want more, much more.

Shuhua arches her back, pushing her pelvis against your mouth as her hands tangle in your hair, pulling hard, urging you to go deeper.

“This feels so good,” she moans, her voice thick with need, encouraging you to plunge your tongue even deeper, exploring every corner, every curve, alternating with kisses on the insides of her thighs where the skin is thin and sensitive. Shuhua's moans grow in intensity, her hips moving in a rhythm that tries to guide yours.

“Fuck me,” she begs, her voice interrupted by moans. “Now, please, fuck me.”

You kneel, your hands gripping her ankles firmly as you lift her, opening her completely for you. With a deep thrust, you enter her, and the moan of pleasure that escapes her lips echoes through the room. Shuhua’s warmth envelops you, every internal muscle contracting around you, pulling you deeper, harder. You don’t stop, each thrust more intense than the last, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the space.

“Let me ride you,” she pleads, her eyes shining with a mix of lust and determination. Without hesitation, you lie down on the floor, the carpet almost cold compared to the heat emanating from Shuhua as she straddles you.

Her movements are slow at first, sensual, almost torturous. She moves like a goddess, each undulation of her body perfectly choreographed to maximize pleasure. Shuhua's moans intensify, her hands gripping yours as a point of support.

The sensation of her pussy, incredibly wet and slippery around you, makes you close your eyes. You feel every pulse, every contraction, and listen to every moan with attention. The pleasure is an electric current that runs through both of you, feeding off each other in an endless cycle of desire.

She leans over you, her small tits pressed against your chest, her face buried in your neck as you start pounding into her with force, each movement drawing loud moans from Shuhua. The sounds she makes—a mix of pleasure and agony—only increase the intensity of what you feel.

“Fuck me harder,” she whispers in your ear, the tone almost desperate. “I want to feel you deeper, I want to be completely yours.”

Her words are like gasoline on the fire of your desire. You increase the pace, each thrust deeper, more brutal, as if trying to merge with her, to become one. Shuhua's moans turn into screams, her body writhing beneath you as she surrenders completely to the pleasure.

Then, with a moan filled with pleasure and vulnerability, she whispers in your ear, “I want you to fuck my ass. It'll be my first time, so do it carefully.”

Her request is both shocking and exciting. You watch her as she turns over, getting on all fours, offering herself to you in a way that is both submissive and powerful. The sight of her small, tight ass makes your cock throb with renewed strength. You lower yourself, gently licking around the opening, exploring the texture and taste of her, feeling her tremble beneath you.

Every moan that Shuhua lets out as you lick her, preparing her, is an encouragement to go further. You wet your tongue thoroughly, rubbing it against the sensitive skin until she is completely lubricated. Then, slowly, you begin to insert a finger, feeling the initial resistance and hearing her moan, a mix of pain and pleasure.

“It hurts,” she admits, her voice broken, “but keep going… I like it.”

You move carefully, adding more lubrication with your tongue before introducing a second finger. Her ass gradually adjusts, the moans turning into deeper sighs of pleasure. With each movement, you feel her resistance decrease, her body adapting, opening up to you.

“Put your cock in,” she finally asks, her voice almost pleading. “I want to feel you all inside me.”

You position the head of your cock against the tight entrance, pressing slowly as you watch her every reaction. Her ass is incredibly tight, and you feel every inch slowly being swallowed by the warm, pulsing flesh.

“You're so tight,” you say, your voice thick with desire, as you push deeper, slowly allowing her to adjust.

“More,” she moans, her entire body trembling as you finally bury yourself completely inside her. The sensation is overwhelming, the heat and pressure around you intensifying every nerve, every fiber of your being.

You start to move, slowly at first, but soon Shuhua starts asking for more.

“Faster,” she begs, her tone urgent. “Fuck me faster, please.”

You comply with her request, increasing the pace, occasionally pulling out to lubricate in her pussy a bit before putting it back in her ass, which clenches tightly around you. Each movement brings a new explosion of pleasure. Her moans turn into screams, her voice hoarse as she nears climax.

“I’m almost there,” she warns, her fingers digging into the carpet as she holds on against the pleasure consuming her.

When she finally announces she’s going to cum, you don’t stop, continuing to pound into her with all the strength you can muster. She screams as the orgasm hits her, her whole body trembling violently as pleasure overtakes her, and you feel every pulse, every contraction around your cock.

Soon after, you feel your own climax approaching.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warn, your voice tense with anticipation.

“Cum inside me,” she begs, her voice full of desire. “Fill my ass with your cum, babe.”

Her words are enough to push you over the edge. You feel an overwhelming wave of pleasure as you finally explode inside her, filling her with everything you have. She feels every pulse of your cock, every hot jet filling her deeply. The pleasure is so intense that your vision blurs, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears as you continue to move, prolonging the moment as long as you can.

As you’re still catching your breath, she slowly leans forward, spreading her cheeks with her hands. Your cum begins to drip out, a thick white line trailing down towards her pussy.

Shuhua looks back at you, smiling.

“Mmm, you came so much inside me,” she says, her voice soft and full of contentment, as you watch your cum drip from her. “I didn’t know this would feel so good… Fuck, I loved it.”

—

You’re floating between sleep and wakefulness, remembering what it felt like to hold Shuhua, her body pressed against yours as if she were an extension of you. The morning light is starting to filter into the room, but you don’t want to fully wake up. You’d rather linger in the haze of dreams, reliving the sensation of her skin on yours, her dark hair splayed across your chest, her scent, her sleepy voice—everything that made up that intimate moment.

You recall how she whispered, almost shyly, “I’m scared to go home.” Her voice was fragile, as if it might break. You didn’t say anything, just ran your hand through her hair, trying to brush away her fear with a simple touch. In that moment, everything seemed possible. Maybe she would stay. Maybe you’d have more time.

But now, on the threshold between dream and reality, you feel the emptiness beside you. You turn your head and open your eyes. She’s moving quietly around the room, putting on the clothes scattered on the floor, just as she did yesterday. And once again, you’re not willing to let her leave like this, as if she’d never been in your home, in your clothes, in your bed.

“Hey,” you murmur, your voice still hoarse from sleep. She stops, her shirt halfway on, and looks at you, her expression a mix of surprise and something like guilt. Before she can react, you get up, slip out of bed, and reach her. Your arms wrap around her waist, pulling her back into the warmth of the bed. She lets out a sigh, caught between discomfort and desire. “Stay a little longer,” you whisper against her neck, your lips finding a soft spot that makes her shiver. “At least until breakfast.”

She closes her eyes, as if trying to find the strength to resist.

“I can’t,” she replies, her voice wavering.

“Of course you can.” You turn her to face you, her eyes meeting yours, looking darker than they did yesterday. “Just a little longer.”

She shakes her head, pulling away, creating a distance that irritates you.

“I’ll eat somewhere else,” she says, her voice firmer now.

You feel the tension rising. Something’s different.

“What happened, Shuhua? Why are you acting like this?”

She turns her face away, avoiding your gaze.

“It’s none of your business.”

Then you remember that, at some point during the night, when you were asleep, a phone rang in the living room, the sound so faint that you almost thought you were dreaming. But it was real. Terribly real.

“Of course it is. We had something here… I know you feel the same.” Your voice rises, you can’t help it. “When will I see you again?”

“Maybe later,” she replies, almost automatically, as if saying what she thinks you want to hear.

You feel nauseous.

“Later, where? What time?”

She moves toward the door, her hands trembling slightly as she tries to grab her bag.

“Anywhere. Anytime.”

“That’s not an answer,” you say, following her, frustration starting to replace what was once concern. “I thought we had something.”

She stops at the door, her hand already on the handle. She looks at you, her expression a mix of sadness and determination.

“We did. But I can’t… I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what? Being happy?” you snap, knowing the words will hurt her, but unable to stop yourself.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

“You don’t understand. And I can’t explain it to you.”

She leaves, and you stand there, in the living room, staring at the door as it closes, listening to the sound of her footsteps fading away on the street. The feeling of emptiness is like a black hole, sucking all the light and warmth out of the morning.

—

You're back at work, with sand sticking to your feet as you guide a group of tourists, all sunburnt and wearing ridiculous souvenir caps.

“What kind of creature is that, anyway?” one of them asks, curious, pointing at the dead animal on the sand.

“Look, folks,” you begin, trying to sound more authoritative than annoyed, “This is a jellyfish. Under no circumstances should you touch it. We're in jellyfish season, so they’re everywhere, and they’re not exactly friendly. Be careful if you’re going into the water.”

The tourists murmur among themselves, some raising worried eyebrows, others continuing to snap photos of the creature. You shake your head, a little weary of the routine, and turn to head back to the lifeguard station. As you walk, the waves break gently on the shore, a sound you usually find relaxing, but today it’s just another background noise amplifying your anxiety.

You push open the door to the cabin and barely step inside when a voice explodes beside you. “Boo!”

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. You spin around sharply, only to find your dad laughing like a kid who just pulled off a prank. He’s standing there, hands on his hips, wearing that smile that, somehow, never seems to age.

“Geez, Dad!” you mutter, trying not to show how much he really scared you. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack or what?”

Your dad just laughs louder, the kind of laugh that always fills the room with energy.

“Oh, come on, kid. If I can’t prank my own son, who else am I gonna do it to?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face. That’s your dad, always full of life, always trying to make you laugh, even when all you want to do is dive into the sea and swim until you disappear from sight.

He pulls a flyer out of his pocket and hands it to you, still smiling, like he’s giving you a great gift.

“Look what I found out there!”

You take the paper, giving it a quick glance.

“What the hell is this?” you ask, but you already know the answer before you finish the sentence.

“Tonight’s luau! You remember the luau, don’t you? That town tradition, everyone gathering on the beach, dancing, eating...”

“Of course I remember,” you cut him off, tossing the flyer back onto the counter. “But honestly, Dad, I couldn’t care less about the damm luau.”

Your dad pauses, his smile fading for a second, like you just threw cold water on his enthusiasm.

“What? What do you mean, couldn’t care less? You used to love it.”

“That was when I was 15, Dad. Things have changed.”

He looks at you with an expression of disbelief.

“Changed how?”

You shrug, trying to seem indifferent, but Shuhua’s name is stuck on the tip of your tongue, almost slipping out.

“They just… changed. It’s not the same anymore. I’m not the same anymore.”

Your dad crosses his arms, clearly not ready to give up so easily.

“So what? Doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun. There’ll be a bunch of tourists there, hot girls who love a lifeguard. And let’s face it, you need to blow off some steam, son.”

You sigh, your thoughts still stuck on Shuhua. The idea of seeing other girls, forcing a smile, pretending to be interested, feels unbearable right now.

“I’m not in the mood, Dad. Not today.”

Your dad watches you for a moment, trying to read what you’re not saying. He’s seen this look before, back when you were a teenager trying to hide some secret.

“Does this have to do with that girl I saw with you yesterday?”

You shift uncomfortably, the tension growing.

“Let it go, Dad. It’s nothing.”

But he’s not fooled.

“Listen, whatever it is, you don’t have to be stuck in it. Things are what they are, but you can’t let that stop you from living your life.”

“I know, Dad. But this is different.”

“Everything feels different when you’re in it up to your neck,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “But trust me, kid. Go to the luau, relax a little. You might find some answers while you’re there.”

You nod, but your thoughts are still far away.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, just to end the conversation.

Your dad smiles, as if that’s good enough. “That’s all I ask. Now, keep an eye on the tourists. I’m gonna check on the rest of the beach,” and before leaving the cabin, he adds, “Oh, and no taking the ATV out for joyrides, young man.”

“Sorry, won’t happen again.”

He smiles, and you watch him leave, still with that air of unbeatable optimism, like the world is a place where everything always works out in the end. You wish you could feel that too, but all you can think about is Shuhua. Whether she’ll show up at the luau, or if that was the last time you’ll ever see her.

—

Night has already fallen when you finally decide to go to the luau. It’s not so much a conscious decision as it is an automatic reaction. As if your body is pushing you toward where your heart wants to be, even though your mind is telling you to give up. You spent the day searching in various places, trying to find Shuhua, but she seemed to have vanished. And now, with the darkness settling in, the luau is your last option.

You arrive at the beach where the party is already in full swing. The atmosphere is a blend of colors and sounds, like a vibrant painting brought to life. The flames of the bonfires rise against the night sky, casting dancing shadows over the people around them. Groups gather around the fires, some playing guitar, others just laughing and drinking, all immersed in a carefree sense of freedom. The music plays, a tropical beat mixed with the sound of the ocean.

But you don’t belong here. While everyone around you seems light and carefree, you feel heavy, out of place, like a parasite in a foreign body. The laughter and smiles around you hit like acid rain, burning instead of refreshing.

And then you see your father. He’s on the other side of the bonfire, laughing loudly and holding a drink, surrounded by a circle of friends. He spots you and his face lights up with that simple, contagious joy he always seems to carry.

“Hey, look who decided to show up!” he shouts, waving you over to join them.

You force a smile and walk over, but your father already sees the hesitation on your face.

“I’ll stay just a bit,” you say, trying to sound casual. “Unless... something shows up.”

Your father raises an eyebrow, catching your true meaning.

“Something or someone?” he asks, with a look that says he already knows the answer.

You just shake your head, looking down.

“Whatever.”

He doesn’t give up.

“Listen, son, I know you’re going through something. But... wearing that funeral face isn’t going to help. Look,” he says, nodding toward a group of girls by another bonfire, “that one over there, with the short hair, has been eyeing you since you arrived.”

You don’t even bother to look.

“I don’t care. I didn’t come here for the girls.”

“Really?” Your father tilts his head, as if trying to solve a riddle. “Then why did you come?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, more frustrated with yourself than with him. But then he points his chin toward someone.

You finally look in the direction he’s indicating, and your heart stops for a moment. It’s Shuhua. She’s there, as beautiful and carefree as ever, but there’s something different about her. She seems radiant, brighter than you’ve ever seen her. When your eyes meet, she smiles and walks over, her long, graceful legs moving with a confidence that wasn’t there in the morning.

She wraps you in a hug and kisses you, and everything feels strange. Not the kiss itself, but the way she acts, so joyful, so carefree. It’s as if the Shuhua from the morning, the one who was scared and confused, has been replaced by this sunny version, perfect for the luau.

“Hey,” she says, still smiling.

You force a smile in return.

“Hey. You... seem different.”

“Me? No, I’m just enjoying the night. What else should I be doing?”

You spend the next hour at the luau, doing exactly that. Enjoying. You dance to the live music, join a group playing guitar, singing an improvised version of some Jack Johnson song. Shuhua is light, fluid, as if the world was meant to be enjoyed just like this. She grabs two glasses of some sweet, strong drink, toasting with you before downing it in one go. You laugh, drink, dance more. For a moment, you allow yourself to forget the dark cloud hanging over you. For a moment, everything is simple.

But eventually, the fatigue begins to set in. The bonfires start to die down, and the laughter around you grows softer. That’s when you look at Shuhua, and she’s there, leaning against you, still smiling, but with something in her eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” you say, taking her hand. “I want to show you a special place.”

She looks at you, curious.

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise. But trust me.”

She smiles, nodding, and you both leave the luau behind. The walk to the pier is quiet, just the sound of waves and footsteps on the sand. The pier is old, wooden, stretching out into the sea like a tongue reaching toward the unknown. At night, the place is deserted, lit only by the silver moonlight reflecting on the water below.

You walk to the end of the pier, where the world seems to stop. The sound of the waves is more intense here, crashing against the wooden pillars with a hypnotic rhythm.

Shuhua takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

“This place is beautiful,” she says, her voice soft. “I like the darkness... Here, we’re just shadows.”

You watch her, trying to understand what’s going on inside her.

“Shadows,” you repeat, as if the word carries a weight you’re only now beginning to grasp. “Is that what we are? Shadows?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, staring out at the water.

“Maybe. But with the light of the next morning,” she says, her voice low and poetic, “the sun will sweep away the night’s shadows. Forever.”

The silence that follows is heavy, each word a stone thrown into a bottomless well. You wait for the sound, but it never comes. You look at the sea, where the moon draws a silver path across the waves.

“Look,” you say, pointing. “Do you see the silver bridge over the sea?”

She follows your gaze and nods.

“Yes.”

“That bridge,” you continue, your words coming more slowly now, “it can connect us, no matter where you are. Even on the other side of the ocean, there will be a bridge like this. And you can walk across it and come to me. I’ll be here, in this same place. It’s where I belong. And I’ll be waiting.”

Shuhua smiles sadly.

“One day, you’ll get tired of waiting.”

“I learned to be patient from a certain someone,” you say, moving closer to her, gently touching her face. “And I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll be here.”

For a moment, she says nothing, just closes her eyes and rests her forehead against yours, as if trying to etch this moment into her memory. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice full of a sadness you don’t fully understand. “But... maybe you shouldn’t.”

You don’t respond because, deep down, you know she might be right. And there, on the pier, under the moonlight, you stay together. Shadows that, for now, still resist the morning light.

—

You hold her tightly by the waist, feeling her warmth blend with yours as you guide her toward the bed. The surroundings seem to dissolve under the intensity of the looks you exchange. Each breath is heavy with anticipation, each heartbeat a countdown to something inevitable, yet divinely uncertain. Shuhua is in your arms, so close you can feel the softness of her skin against yours, the intoxicating scent of her perfume mixing with the latent desire you both share. This is the last night you’ll have together, and that awareness is reflected in the intense passion shining in her eyes.

When you finally lay Shuhua down on the bed, your hands move with deliberate slowness, touching every curve of her body with an almost sacred reverence. Your lips find the delicate skin of her neck, delivering kisses that are both gentle and laden with desire. You feel her pulse quicken beneath your lips, a clear sign of the effect you’re having on her. Gradually, you move lower, removing the dress that covered her body, revealing her pale, delicate skin. Your kisses follow the path of the dress, leaving a trail of sensations behind. Your lips touch her tits with adoration, your tongue gently exploring every part, feeling the softness of her skin and her unique taste. You continue your descent, kissing her flat stomach, feeling the muscles contract under your touch until you finally reach the place where Shuhua’s desire is most evident. When your mouth finds her pussy, you suck with the uncontrollable desire you always have, each movement of your tongue making Shuhua moan with pleasure.

“I’m so wet for you,” she whispers, her voice thick with need and excitement, her body arching involuntarily with each new wave of pleasure.

Your response to her desire is immediate. You begin to remove your clothes, your cock already fully hard, pulsing with the need to be inside her. Shuhua, with a look that mixes lust and expectation, turns onto her stomach, her body’s muscles tense and ready.

“Fuck me now,” she begs, her voice husky, almost a moan, as she adjusts herself for perfect access. You climb onto the bed, kneeling behind her, your entire body alert, every nerve pulsing with the desire to possess her. When you finally enter her, the sensation is almost overwhelming. Shuhua’s pussy is incredibly tight, her legs slightly closed, amplifying the intensity of each thrust. You grab her ass firmly, feeling the soft, firm flesh under your hands, and start thrusting with fierce passion. Each thrust is deep and deliberate, drawing moans from Shuhua that fill the room like an erotic melody.

“Spank me... spank my ass,” she pleads, her voice almost desperate, and you obey, delivering slaps that make her pale skin flush with a bright red. The feel of your hand meeting her flesh is hypnotic, and every time you spank her, she responds with more moans, more pleasure.

“Like that... harder,” she demands, and you do exactly what she wants, feeling the connection between you deepening with each new slap, each new thrust.

With your cock now fully lubricated by Shuhua’s wetness, an irresistible desire to go further takes over you. Without warning, you guide your cock to her ass, the tight entrance offering a resistance that only heightens your excitement. The gasp of surprise and lust that escapes Shuhua’s lips is like fuel to the fire inside you.

“So good,” she murmurs, almost breathless, as she adjusts to the new rhythm. “It feels so good... fuck me deeper,” she begs, her voice trembling with pleasure. You lean over her, lying on top of her, your weight pressing her into the bed as you continue to penetrate her. The movements become even more intense, and you feel Shuhua tremble beneath you, her body responding to each thrust with a new wave of pleasure. you give gentle nibbles on Shuhua's earlobe, while your moans echo in her ear, an erotic song that makes Shuhua writhe in pleasure.

“I love hearing you moan in my ear, babe” she whispers, her voice thick with pleasure, and you feel the connection between you intensify even more, a mix of love and wildness that you both share without reservations.

The need for a change is instinctive. You both turn onto your sides, you still inside her, each movement smooth and controlled. In this position, the intimacy between you reaches a new level. With Shuhua’s body perfectly nestled against yours, you feel each of her breaths, each heartbeat, as you continue to fuck her from the side. Your hands roam her body, one holding her waist firmly, guiding the movements, while your mouth explores her neck, with kisses of affection and licks of desire. Shuhua’s moans grow louder, more urgent, and you feel her body begin to tremble as she approaches climax.

“I’m gonna cum, babe... don’t stop... please, don’t stop,” she begs, her eyes closed, her lips parted in ecstasy. You feel her body tighten around you, every muscle contracted in anticipation, and when she finally cums, you watch as she loses control. Her body arches, her moans turn into muffled screams, and you feel the wave of pleasure wash over her body, reverberating within you.

With her climax still hanging in the air, you continue, feeling your own pleasure rapidly approaching.

“I’m gonna cum,” you announce, your voice hoarse with desire and need, and Shuhua, still breathing heavily, quickly turns around, her body moving with feline grace.

“In my mouth... I want all your cum in my mouth,” she pleads, kneeling over you.

Her lips close tightly around the head of your cock, while her agile tongue slides and teases, pulling moans from you that echo through the room.

“Give it to me... fill my mouth with your cum,” she begs, and those words are enough to push you over the edge.

When you cum, it’s as if an overwhelming wave of pleasure sweeps through your body, and Shuhua receives every spurt of cum with an almost indecent enthusiasm. She doesn’t pull back; on the contrary, she sucks harder, her tongue swirling around the head of your cock, making sure not to let a drop escape. You watch, completely spent, as she swallows everything, her eyes lifting to meet yours.

“Mmm... Your cum tastes so good,” she whispers as she licks her lips.

“You’re incredible, Shuhua. Fuck… You’re so fucking hot,” and it’s all you can say at that moment.

—

That night dissolved into fragments, like an old film burning at the edges, the moments flickering and disappearing before you could grasp them. But some sparks of moments were still vivid, like when you both ran along the beach, your feet sinking into the cold sand as the salty wind cut across your faces. Shuhua laughed, the sound escaping her as if joy was something impossible to contain. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you had to keep moving, because stopping meant thinking, and thinking was something both of you wanted to avoid at all costs.

You two danced without music, moving to the silent beats that only the two of you could hear. The moon lit you up, turning the sand into liquid silver. She spun, arms wide, head tilted back, her hair floating around her like a dark crown. And you followed her, because there was no other choice, because she was the only thing that made sense that night.

The sea called to you, the waves licking your feet, cold like the reality you were trying to escape. She laughed again, a sound muffled by the water, and you let yourself laugh too, even if it was just a pale imitation of what she felt. You walked back to town in silence, just following the lights that blinked in the distance.

The places you passed seemed unreal, like poorly painted backdrops in a cheap theater. There were lights, there were people, but none of it mattered. You were the only ones who existed, caught in a current pulling you toward each other, keeping you together while the world around you disintegrated.

You remember it now as if it were a dream. The blurred faces, the faded neon colors, the distant sounds. Everything fleeting, so fast that you barely had time to realize what was happening before it was already over. Everything, except her. She was real. She was the only thing that didn’t disappear.

Until you wake up.

The room is empty. You’re alone. Shuhua is gone, without a sound, without a goodbye. She slipped through your fingers this time, point for her. Well, maybe it’s easier this way. But you’re left with the feeling of something lost, something ripped away from you without warning. The bed still carries the warmth of her body, but there’s no one there anymore. Just the echo of what was and what could have been.

You remember her crying last night. Out of nowhere, as you were leaving a carousel, the tears just started falling. She didn’t say anything, just threw herself into your arms, as if she wanted to disappear. And you didn’t ask why because asking would only hurt her more, so you just held her, feeling the tremor in her body, the weight of the impending farewell. She cried again later, when you were both in bed after sex. You wondered how long she had been holding it in, if you were the first anchor she found or just the first one she had.

Now, sitting on the bed, you look at the spot where she was lying. The pillow is still a little damp. Secret tears she couldn’t hide, marks of a sadness you couldn’t heal. You pick up the pillow, holding it for a moment as if it could give you some answer. Something slips from it, sliding softly onto the sheet.

The photo. The Polaroid you took of her the first time you met. Hard to say exactly when she put it there, whether it was the first, second, or last night. Not that it matters, anyway. The sea is behind her, her long dress blowing in the wind, her face turned to the horizon as if waiting for something that would never come.

You turn the photo over and see the words written on the back, in delicate handwriting:

“This is where I stay.”

You feel a tightness in your chest because you know what she meant. This is where she stays, where she belongs. Not with you, but with the moment, the memory, the place that will never move.

She said goodbye there, in those simple words.

And you’re alone, holding a photo that’s now all that’s left. The distant sound of the waves reaches you through the window, and for a moment, you imagine a silver bridge over the sea. A bridge that could have connected you if things had been different.

But all you have now is this fleeting memory, a dream that you’ll eventually struggle to recall, already fading like shadows in the first light of morning.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

revenge. l Clint "Freaky Tales"

Summary: this was the only way you could take revenge on him

Warnings: a little bit of smut (so +18), cockwarming, allusions to sexual use of the apron, Bridget Jones, stable relationship

A/N: i shouldn't think about Clint at work. but then i couldn't get him out of my head. this is not good. this is just a little scribble, i'll leave here and you'll forget about it quickly.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Clint masterlist]

"You're vindictive."

"Of course I am." you replied, folding your arms across your chest and looking at him proudly. "Did you think I'd let it go that easily? No fucking way."

"But I apologized." He squeezed your hips lightly with his large hands, trying to force you to move, but you braced your legs so he had no chance.

"The punishment has to fit the crime. I already allowed you to do a lot."

Clint smiled and shook his head in disbelief. Jesus, you did whatever you wanted with him, and he obediently agreed to it. You were right though, he deserved the punishment. But wasn't it already enough?

Your boyfriend stood you up. You had arranged to watch a movie that you rented last night, but he had to "meet some guy and it got a bit long." The result was that he came back so late that you were already asleep, and you had to return the film the next day. So you decided to take revenge. You had the right to do so.

"What do I have to do to make you forgive me?"

"Don't move."

"What the fuck am I doing?"

You rolled your eyes. The situation was extremely unfavorable for Clint, but you didn't want to admit that you were also struggling to endure it. He showed up at the bar where you worked, perfectly during your break. Those brown eyes looked at you so pleadingly... So Charlie, your boss, waved his hand and told you to go, because he knew Clint would be able to sit there for the rest of the day.

And there you were in his car at the back of the building. You sitting astride his lap, your panties pulled to the side and his hard cock deep inside you. No movement. You didn't let him and even though you could see that it was driving Clint crazy, he listened to your instructions obediently.

"First you said that you only wanted me to sit on your lap." You said, untangled your arms, your fingers began to play with the buttons of his shirt. "Then you'd only put the tip in because you missed me so much and wanted to apologize to me. And now - this."

"You never complained when I was all inside you." He mumbled, and you patted his shoulder.

"That has nothing to do with it." You replied.

Clint placed his hand on the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. "Sweetheart, I know you're struggling too. If you let me..."

The sound of an incoming text message filled the car. You leaned over to reach your phone, which was lying on the passenger seat, and then you sat up, both of you letting out muffled groans. This one movement was overwhelming. Your walls wrapped around him so tightly that every friction was received by your nerves much more strongly.

But you were strong. You glanced at the screen to read the message, ignoring Clint's darkened eyes. You sat on his cock completely unaffected. If he wanted to, he could easily lift you up and pound into you from below, but he probably didn't want to risk it. The effort was enormous, but neither of you wanted to let go.

"You know how much that apron of yours turns me on..." he began, and his fingers started to play with the white material on the front of your work uniform "And that skirt..."

"Apron or skirt, Clint? You have to choose one." You replied, smiling.

“Apron.” He decided, his hands on your hips again. “If only you’d let me, love.” He tried to press your hips against his to create at least the slightest amount of friction. “A little...”

"No." You replied firmly and glanced at your watch. "My break is almost over. I have to go back."

"Baby!" he groaned as he watched you rise.

His cock, still hard and swollen, slipped out of you, glistening with your juices. Coming home in such a state seemed like a nightmare to him, but you clearly didn't care about that. You adjusted your panties, opened the door and slipped out of his car.

"It was nice to see you, Clint." You said, watching as he rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, trying to get himself in order. He didn't see your sly smile, but he definitely felt your lips on his as you pushed your head inside and kissed him passionately. A groan escaped his chest, but you pulled away before he could do anything.

"Bye." You said and with a mischievous smile, you entered through the back staff door.

He loved you. He was as sure of it as he was of his life. He also knew he had screwed up. This was supposed to be a night for the two of you, and he had left, promising to return soon. All he found when he returned was an empty box of ice cream and you with your back to him.

Clint knew it would cost him a lot. But he didn't think it would cost him this much. His jeans felt incredibly tight for the rest of the day. And even as he waited for you in the dark parking lot in front of the bar, he wondered how long your revenge would last.

You saw him immediately. He was leaning against the car door and staring at you like a predator. Your heart pounded, but you adjusted your purse and headed towards him.

"I could have gone home myself." You said, stopping a few steps in front of him.

He tilted his head, watching you carefully. "We have unfinished business, babe."

You raised your eyebrows. "Oh, is that what you call it? Fine, I'll listen to your offer."

Clint turned around and reached into the car through the open window. After a moment, he showed you the box with the movie you wanted to watch with him. He waved it in your direction, making sure your eyes followed it.

"Did you rent it?" you asked, and he nodded. "For me?"

"Of course." he replied, but his face still resembled the one he had with the guys he talked to. "But now it's your turn. What are you bringing to the table, babe?"

You lifted your chin proudly, then reached into your purse. The white of your apron was clear in the darkness of the night. "Is that enough?"

You saw Clint’s Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. “Bad girl,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, your pussy clenching at the sound. “Fine. But you’ll only be wearing this.”

You narrowed your eyes and took a step towards him. "If so, you'll be watching all of Bridget Jones's movies with me."

"All of them?"

You nodded. "And you'll have a great time. No napping in between."

Clint shook his head. You were amazing. Totally fucking amazing, and he was head over heels for you. He finally nodded.

"Okay, we've got a deal."

A beautiful smile lit up your face as you walked up to him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him tenderly. Strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you even closer to his solid body.

"You know I love you, right?" he mumbled, stealing another kiss from you. 

"Mhmmm..."

"Even though what you did today was..."

"...think about what's waiting for you at home." You interrupted him, and Clint looked at the apron you were holding in your hand.

"Get in the car, babe. I'm not going to wait."

You happily got in, and Clint slammed the door shut. Maybe this guy scared some of the people, but you just convinced him to see Bridget Jones with you. He had to love you, and you loved him too. Even if sometimes you had to take revenge.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[bonbonly]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬

a/n: this is for my desi girls, and my first full length proper fic! translations are at the end of the fic, so just scroll down whenever you see something in spanish! pairing: king!carlos sainz x apsara!female!reader ; tw: fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk in spanish, use of slut in spanish word count: 6k apsara definition: a supernatural female being, either the mistress of a soul in paradise or a succubus

"hurry up! hurry up!" meenakshi cries out. she's grabbing her saree, wrapping it around her wet body as she cranes her neck around a tree to see if there were any onlookers. you laugh, splashing some water onto her feet which has her squealing, her right foot kicking up into the air before she's stomping her foot, pouting at you, "i'm not kidding, come! what if someone sees us!"

"that didn't stop you the last time when the great sage was walking back home," you tease her, splashing another wave of water. she's blushing at your words, averting her eyes to the small flower besides her. she had been sent by one of the gods to remind this sage that despite the knowledge he had, his arrogance was still that of a mere mortal and to prove a point, meenakshi was sent to illustrate that the sage had not yet controlled his desires like he was supposed to. meenakshi had walked into his hut under the pretense of wanting some water, and walked out with a satisfied grin as the sage's cum dripped down her legs. even with the amount of times she was sent by the gods to fulfill whatever they asked of her, no apsara was more the favorite than you. you were created by many gods, who each spent extra time making sure that you were the perfect apsara to ever exist. their own lust could not be controlled when you stepped out of the flower that you bloomed from, and needless to say, you were their prized possession for a good two weeks before they let you roam the mortal world.

you're in a river, taking a bath like you always did with your friends. renuka had left earlier to collect some fruits, and dhanalakshmi was playing games with the little girls near the village. dhanalakshmi's story was one of pity, though. she yearned to be a normal mortal, to mingle with the others, but an apsara's curse was that their beauty was just too much for a man or woman to handle. the mortals were not ready to live with the apsaras, and that's why their lives were so mundane. you glance over to meenakshi who's still anxiously looking around.

"you worry too much! come, come take another bath with me!" you laugh, swimming on your back. the water surrounded your full breasts, your hair floating like the leaves of a lily flower. meenakshi sent you a scowl, shaking her head,

"you play too much! come, before a mortal sees us! i've been hearing talks from the gods that this one king wants to take over the forest! and he's not even from here!" meenakshi grabs your white saree and brings it over to you, carefully holding it out so that the fabric doesn't get drenched. you stop your movements, letting the still water engulf your frame as you stare at her.

"what do you mean take over the forest? the forest is ours! the gods gave us a place to stay! this is our land, not the mortals!" you cry out.

"i know, i know," she beckons you with her hand to swim over to her, "which is why i'm begging you to come out of the river. we can go pray at the temple near by and see if the gods will answer our concerns!"

you step out of the river, letting the water cascade your naked body as meenakshi is quick to wrap the saree around you. she grabs the flower from the ground, plucking a bit of the stem off before placing it in your wet hair, right above your right ear and then she's holding your hand and navigating through the forest. you hop over some roots, and smile as the butterflies flutter around your hair, kissing your skin. meenakshi turns around and laughs,

"must be one of the former kings who satisfied their lust through you and now they are cursed to be butterflies!" and you giggle in response, cooing to the creatures,

"beautiful nonetheless, are they not? they're always welcome," and the butterflies dance around your head as a form of gratitude at your kindness.

when passing by a long abandoned hut, you see renuka laying there, her clothes on the floor of the forest. she's breathing heavily, a grin on her face as her legs are spread apart, her cunt still clenching around the cum that some mysterious man has offered her. meenakshi and you both scurry over to her, and while your friend is tending to the poor spent girl, you're giggling hysterically as you crouch down to her level.

"someone had fun in the forest without us, hm?" you smile and meenakshi's swatting your arm, a frown on her face,

"stop that! she needs to get back home. why would anyone ever be intimate in the forest, look at her back!" she flips renuka onto her stomach which causes the apsara to giggle a bit dazily. there's marks on her back from being held up against a tree, and you bite your lip, your mind wandering to some very unholy thoughts. renuka's waving meenakshi away,

"no, stop... stop, i'm fine. i'm very much fine, don't worry about me. i was sent by indra to come destroy a saint's abstinence. he was a young boy, couldn't be more than 19. he was good," she pauses, stretching her arms before giggling once more, "really good. (y/n) you would've loved him." and meenakshi's glaring at both renuka and you,

"enough with this nonsense! come now, we have other more important matters to deal with. dhana's waiting for us back at the temple," she stands up and walks away, leaving you to wrap renuka up in her clothes, a knowing smile on both your lips. when you finally get to the temple, dhana's there making a flower garland to place on the deity and she turns to look at her three friends approaching.

"finally! i thought you all would never make it! i was waiting for so long!" she cries out, and meenakshi's rolling her eyes,

"we would've gotten here sooner, but you can already guess what held us back," and she sends a scowl to both you and renuka, who are hiding your laughs with your mouth. dhana sighs, lighting a small lamp before praying carefully. one by one, the apsaras close their eyes, murmuring their concerns and within seconds, a large glow appears in front of you all. you open your eyes first, having always loved to have conversations with the gods. however, you frown, when you see it's god indra, the one you hated the most. he was always teasing you, toying with you in the worst way possible. you pout your lips and turn your head to the side, chest heaving in anger and he's already laughing,

"oh my dear (y/n) come now, don't be like that! i thought you'd miss me!"

but meenakshi, the ever loving friend, clears her throat and saves you from a conversation with him, "we wanted to ask about what's to come of our forest. are the rumors true? will our home be destroyed by a foreign force?"

indra stares into the sky, taking a deep breath in before nodding his head, "i'm afraid the rumors are true. very much true. there's not much we can do to stop him, but we're trying our best to intervene. this is the home we gifted you after all, i wouldn't want any of you to get hurt."

"what do you mean by 'him'? who's 'him', who is he?" you ask, snapping your head to face indra. he's raising his eyebrows, a smile on his lips as he sees your feisty attitude,

"apsara, he isn't like the other men you've dealt with," he clears his throat before continuing, "he's more dangerous, you know? he's a king from a distant place, very distant. he's travelled the seas, he's shown the qualities of a true warrior and for a king who takes acres of land left and right for the expansion of his kingdom, he sure does have morals."

"no man has morals, we have learned that countless of times," dhana chimes, "surely, he is someone that can be defeated, right?"

"of course, of course! but the gods cannot do it without your help! and your help is very crucial, very much so," indra begins and renuka steps forward,

"we'll be very helpful like always, this is just another-"

"this isn't just another scenario," indra scoffs, "i'm worried about you all. for once in your lives, you may be seduced by him, not the other way around."

the apsaras stare at him in disbelief, confusion settling in all their faces. what did he mean by that? no man ever stood a chance against an apsara, and no apsara ever bowed down to another man after the deed was done. renuka turns to look at you, "i think (y/n) should do it. she never cares for any man. her entire world is this forest, she cares more than any of us."

and before you can argue that there's probably a better candidate, the god floats to stand besides you, tilting your chin up with his finger so that you can see his tall stature.

"i was thinking the same thing. come on (y/n) i know we've had our differences in the past, but you know you're always my favorite, you know that right?" he exclaims, gently brushing your cheek. you turn your head away in disgust, snarling at him,

"you're not my favorite. you never have been and you never will. but i'll still do it. not for you, but for my friends. for my home," you respond, and he clasps his hand,

"as long as you do it, i shall be fine," he sighs, and dhana nervously chews on her finger,

"what does he looks like?" she asks, and indra is moving back to where the deity stands,

"you'll know when you see him... she'll definitely know." and just like that he's gone. meenakshi turns to look at you with scowl,

"i now see why you hate him. how will we know? how will you know, (y/n)?"

"i guess i just will..." you whisper, turning on your heel.

dhanalakshmi stopped going to the village outskirts in a long time. renuka rarely ever leaves her small hut, and meenakshi never joins your invitations when you're bathing in the river. so all alone, you swim around, pressing flowers into your hair and laughing whenever the butterflies come back to accompany you.

"you poor creatures," you tease them pointing to a blue one, "i remember you... you tried to trick me, and i convinced the rishis to curse you! look at you, helplessly flying around because you could not get to me. shame, such shame. i might as well let your wings roam over my body, you won't have hands for the next 1000 years."

the butterfly flies up all into your face, making you laugh as you stumble backwards into deeper waters. "someone's upset," you snicker, and the blue butterfly flies away. your eyes follow the insect before it lands on a white steed, neighing. you frown, looking around you to see if any of your friends are there to convince you that you're not dreaming. you swim over to the majestical animal, ducking beneath a broken log when the horse turns to your area. when the horse looks the other side, you slowly raise your head and let your eyes travel along the golden reins. the saddle is that of a rich velvety red, with encrusted gold patterns. when you had once seduced a sage under the orders of one of the gods, the sage had found out and cursed you to be curious. in any other circumstances, this would seem as barely any punishment, but no. no, this was a type of punishment that only your future would suffer from. so with the nagging feeling in your mind, you raise from the water and approach the animal, gently brushing its soft coat. a very well maintained horse, and you're definitely impressed. your fingers dance along the reigns and when you look past the horse, you see a man cutting through the leaves of a bush with his sword. each swing of the weapon makes your heart ache and you feel for the poor plant that's suffering this abuse. you stretch out your hand, about to yell stop when your mind starts buzzing. you feel it in your heart, this is the man that you're supposed to stop. you gulp, realizing that you're not prepared for the occasion and you jump back into the waters which startles the horse.

hearing the restlessness of the horse, king carlos sainz runs towards the sound and he catches a glimpse of you swimming away, your hair chasing after you as if it was your own shadow and he has to blink a couple times because now you are gone. as if you were an illusion. he barely saw anything, but he swore you were naked? with flowers in your hair and a scent that made him crave for more. he shakes his head, turning back to his horse.

"oi, cabron, what's wrong?" he snorts, and the horse snorts back, stomping its foot, "enough with the attitude. come, we have things to do." and he's tugging the reigns, dragging the horse deeper into the woods.

"i saw him, i saw him!" you're pacing renuka's hut, shaking uncontrollably, "i didn't see his face clearly but i know it's him! i was so sure of it! i felt it within me!"

"then why didn't you do something about it?" she asks, and you groan out loud,

"right? when i'm naked after a bath, i should just go up to him and - oh forget it, that's your style. that's not mine!" you hiss, "i like to plan these out, i like to be prepared no matter what happens."

and you know you're prepared when you catch a glimpse of him the next day, and the following few days. you're stalking him, watching him prance around on his horse as you're perched on a tree. you take a bite of an apple, trying to understand his patterns, his mind. what was he doing in your home? to think he could storm in and take what was rightfully yours! the audacity of mankind. and yet as the days pass by, you fear lord indra is right. you're starting to crave this king. his hair looks soft, combed neatly and sometimes the wind pushes his hair back so that you could get a closer look at his big brown eyes. his jaw is sharp, lips big and you nearly fall off the tree ogling at him. renuka, meenakshi and dhana all see him too occasionally when they're hiding behind the trees, and all they can do is fawn over him. his beauty had renuka envying him.

"mortals shouldn't be this beautiful, this is a curse by the gods! they're trying to test us," she scoffs, and you're sighing out loud,

"a test indeed. i don't think i can spend any longer chasing after him. my mind is unwell. do you want to seduce him? i am more than happy to gift this burden to you," you exclaim but renuka shakes her head,

"no, no. the gods have chosen you. they're getting angry that you have not done your duty as an apsara. don't delay it any further, come on (y/n), it's your time now." she informs you, before picking the ends of her saree up and walking back to her hut.

you decide to finally confront the stranger that has been tormenting your mind for the past week. you let your hair down, the biggest hibiscus flower you can find in your hair and you wear your precious anklets, the one that you only wear for occasions like this. you delve into the woods, fingers brushing against the bark of the trees, each with a story of their own. and then you hear the unmistakable sound of someone chopping up leaves and you know it's time for you to spring into action. you move towards the direction of the sound, pushing the big leaves out of your way and you make sure that each step you take is harsh, just so that the music of your anklets can echo through every corner of this forest. as you turn the corner, a warm figure presses against your back, followed by the coolness of the sword against your throat.

"Qué tipo de criatura eres*?" the voice behind you asks, and you stand there, not understanding the language that he's speaking. you remain quiet, and after a few beats he asks you, "mmm, let me help you out, what type of creature are you?"

"i am no creature," you respond, "i live in the woods, this is my home."

"what are you? some sort of bear to be living here?" the voice behind you derides, and his sword's blade digs just a bite deeper into your throat which makes you gasp out loud, "you're a strange creature. what is it about you, hm? i've been seeing you lurking these wooded areas for the past week."

he inhales your scent, the one that he's been craving for an entire week. the one that he smells whenever he knows your nearby, and it drives him insane. he nuzzles his nose into your hair, lips finding the shell of your ear before he begins to nibble, "say, creature, how do you live like this in these woods?"

"this is my home. and once again, do not call me creature. you make me sound as if i am a monster, and the only monster here is you." you hiss, and he's chuckling into your ear, his voice low,

"perhaps, i am the monster, but you fascinate me. why don't you tell me one thing, were you sent by anyone? hm? is this some sort of a game that you and your friends play?" but his questions are met with no responses since you are too focused on the sword against your throat. he seems impressed at your resilience - or stupidity - and he removes the metal, spinning it in his hands before sheathing the sword. you take a step forward, ready to head back home and send meenakshi to do the deed instead but he grabs a chunk of your hair and pulls out back to him, which causes you to wince.

"where do you think you're going?" he's asking you, "i found you, and i want to know more about you."

"this is not the way to do so," you mumble, and he spins you around to finally see your face. you're stricken by his beauty, his features sharp and clear. you cannot help but press your body against his, being drawn to him in a way that you had never done so before. but you know that what you were feeling was wrong. apsaras never found love and if they did, it was doomed from the start. and considering the way this man was staring at you, love was not in the picture but lust sure was. you gulp, pushing him away from you, "you cannot take my home. you must make a promise."

he raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side as he's circling you as a predator would to its prey. the butterflies sit on the branch of a tree, eagerly waiting to see what's about to happen. "i cannot guarantee anything, but give me a good reason."

"my friends and i live here. the gods have gifted us this place as our home. no mortal is to ever see us unless we are to carry out a specific duty. mortals cannot usually withstand us, not even the most powerful sages can." you explain, and he's placing his hands on his hips, laughing at your words,

"i'm resisting you, i can stand you. not all mortals are that desperate, mi amor," he stops right in front of you, taking in your appearance. his eyes rake over your body, and he wants to touch you, see if you were real or just a figment of his imagination. but he knows that his words would then be futile. you can see the conflict in his eyes and you smirk for a brief second, and he notices it. he catches it, which makes him even more desperate to have you as his. to tame you, to see what it is about these woodland creatures. he had heard stories from the villagers nearby that the beauty of the forest was to be avoided. he didn't understand it then, but he sure did now. damned be the warnings they gave him, he just wanted a small taste.

you take a step backwards, which causes him to follow suit. you frown, looking around the forest to see if meenakshi would show up but the king grabs your wrist and yanks you close, pressing your body against his once more, "creature, i want you. i need you, right here and right now."

his eyes are blown out due to lust, and you're sure lord indra is happy that you have carried out his request perfectly. you could happily indulge the king all you wanted now. he'd cum in you once and then he'd leave as all the other men had done before. this was nothing new to you. you nod your head, "i shall give myself to you so long as you leave my forest and never come back, never taking what belongs to my friends and I."

"anything you say mi vida, i shall find land elsewhere," he promises, and you're unaware that he's crossing his fingers behind his back. how could he possibly leave this forest when he's seen you now! you bite your lip, eyes glancing to his lips. the ones that you've been dreaming about for a whole week and with much hesitation, you lean forward and capture his lips into yours, nipping his bottom lip and tugging every so often which has him laughing at how eager you were being. especially for a creature that seemed disgusted by his presence just a few minutes earlier. he cups your face, making sure you cannot turn away when the kisses become more heated. his lips trail to your jaw, and then down your neck. he kisses over your clothed breasts, down your stomach and then the inside of your thighs. he brings his hands up to grab at the fabric, but the gods must've decided to help you for now the wind is dancing around you. your hair lifts up into a spiral as the garment is slowly unraveling around you as if you were a present just for him, and there you stand naked before him as his mouth is watering at the sight. he shoves you to the ground, and you groan at the feeling of crunch leaves on your back. it wasn't your particular favorite feeling, but there's not much time when he's yanking you by your ankles close to him. he spreads your legs apart, shaking your feet to hear your anklets that are singing into his ears. he kisses your feet, whispering that every step you take on this world must be a blessing to the dirt. you're speechless at his praise, and his lips are inching closer to where you are aching for him. he blows a few cool breaths on your wet cunt, mumbling about how wet you are and if any man in the forest had ever managed to ruin you like he was about to.

"you are probably the 1000th man in my entire life that I have given myself too," you comment, watching his eyes darken, "i doubt you can make yourself memorable, but we shall try."

he takes it as a challenge, feeling his ego get bruised at your words. he’s going to make sure that if you ever bed any other man, you’ll still be craving him. so when you expect him to take out his manhood and call it a day, instead he has his lips around your cunt. he licks through your folds, sucking and pulling your clit that makes you gasp out loud, followed by a very loud moan that shocks even you. you glance down and can only see his black hair masking the sinful actions his tongue is doing. he’s wrapping his arm around your legs, bringing you closer to him as he’s diving his tongue deep into your core, shaking his head against your cunt which has you mewling. when you eventually cum into his mouth, he pulls away and licks his lips, loving the way you’re in shock at how intense the orgasm was. he brings his fingers to your mouth,

“Open for me princesa, i want to feel your spit on my fingers,” and you nod your head, completely under his trance. he smirks at your compliance, and pulls his fingers out of your mouth and dragging it down your body. his touch sends sparks flying through your body and when he shoves two fingers into your tight cunt, you throw your head back and cry out loud,

“you’re doing too much! listen you mortal!” you cannot finish your sentence since he’s curling his fingers, scissoring your cunt. he pulls out and slaps your face, gently,

“Your highness, you must call me your highness,” he grins, shoving his fingers back in you, and you’re tossing your head to the side with a large moan. this man had magic in his hands, there was no other explanation for this! he goes faster, adding a third finger as his thumb toys with your puffy clit. he sees your desperate cries to cum and he leans forward to capture your nipple in his mouth, sucking as if he was expecting milk to pour out from you. the gods had cruel ways to manipulate you, and you really hope they do not follow through with whatever this man was lusting for. your thoughts are quickly silenced as you feel that familiar coil tightening within you, and as his fingers slider in and out, curling and spreading the gummy walls of your cunt, you scream out loud as you cum once again, squirting all over his hands. the sleeve of his royal coat is drenched in your juices and he pulls away from your marked chest to stare into your eyes,

“you’re making quite the mess, mi vida. ruining my coat like this. debería castigarte por eso, mi pequeña zorra**” but his words mean nothing as your mind is turning into a blank mushy mess. he lifts you off the ground and places you against a tree. you suddenly remember the marks on renuka’s back a week ago and now you find yourself growing wetter at the thought of what he’s about to do. he runs a hand through his hair, beginning to undress. he tosses his coat, and then his vest and then his shirt onto the horse’s saddle and takes off his pants as well. his cock, once free, springs upwards and hits his stomach before swaying with each step he took towards you. he lifts one of your legs and lets you drape it over his arm while the other leg is made to root firmly onto the ground.

“you’re so wet, fuck,” he groans, sliding his cock against your folds. you whimper, still over sensitive from the previous orgasms but he tunes it all out and lets his aching cock bury into your cunt. he doesn’t give you time to adjust, making sure that the only thing your brain can think about now is the cock that's splitting you in half. he pulls out and slams right back into you, cock burying to the hilt and you're screaming with each thrust, unable to form words. his pace quickens, and he presses his chest against yours, going deeper into your poor cunt as the bark of the tree kisses your back roughly. he hoists both your legs up over his arms and as he's pounding into you, he keeps laughing the entire time.

"creature, i thought you'd be mysterious and quiet!" he brings his thumb onto your sensitive clit, rubbing furiously which has you screaming his title once more, begging him to slow down or else you were going to cum once more. "that's what i want, zorra, i want you to cum a million times around my cock. milk me for what it's worth. 1000 men you say? i do not know much about you, but i know from now on i am never letting any man touch you. damned be what the villagers said, i'm keeping you to myself."

your eyes widen in shock, having never heard someone want to possess you. perhaps this is the mentality of foreigners, wanting to take what wasn't rightfully theirs. you're sure the gods would never someone else take their beautiful creation, but a part of you... a part of you wanted him to take you. to let you go beyond this forest. you bite into his shoulder as you reach your climax, your liquids spewing out once more. he continues to drill into you, prolonging your pleasure. his thumb doesn't stop either, and you're sobbing uncontrollably telling him that you cannot take it anymore, that you cannot physically keep up with him. mortals would tire out before the apsaras, but this man had the strength to match the gods! no wonder indra was so worried about you having to deal with this king!

king carlos pulls out of you, and throws you over his shoulder. you limp against him, feeling yourself growing exhausted but you knew the job was far from done. the man tosses you into the water, and dives right in. he clasps onto your waist and brings you towards another bruising kiss, hands groping and squeezing wherever he could touch. there's a boulder near the end of the stream, and he swims over there with you holding on to his neck. within seconds, he has your face against the rock, ass in the air as he's rutting into you once again. you're losing your mind at this point, thinking that he's bound to make you so cock drunk that you'll never remember any of your friends ever again, only the feeling of the veins on his cock pulsing within your walls as he moves in and out of you. one hand grabs your hair while the other is kneading your ass. he looks down at the sight of your ass bouncing with each of his thrusts and he groans,

"oh creature, you cannot convince me that you weren't made just for my cock." his thrusts are harsher, he's not holding himself back anymore and you're audibly wailing at how you're unable to keep up with him, "mírate, tan hermosa, tan perfecta, tan buena puta de mierda para mí.***"

you don't know what he's saying again, but you can feel another orgasm building up as he's going deeper. it's like he plans on having his cock lodged into your guts permanently at this rate. you shake your head, trying to get up but he pushes you back down with his hand, a firm smack on your ass.

"i c-can't c-cum anymore," you whimper, though you back your ass into his crotch, as if chasing after something you fear might ruin you forever.

"yes, you can, puedes y te correrás para mí****" he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic. he grabs your arms and pins them behind your back, pulling you flush against his chest as his cock bullies into you. he licks the tears off your cheek, kissing and sucking at your skin and telling you that you were the most beautiful creature he's ever seen. "i'm going to take you back to my kingdom. i'm going to make you my queen, and you're going to be filled with my cum every. single. day," he punctuates with his thrusts, making you scream out loud as you're orgasming once again, your body shaking. he wraps his arms around you, "i never asked for your name in all of this. i need to know the name of my queen."

as he kisses your shoulder, you're gasping for air as you try to come down from the high, "i-it's (y/n), my name is (y/n)." and he's raising his eyebrows,

"never heard of the name, but it still sounds beautiful. i am king carlos, and i'm going to make you mine," he groans out loud as he's spilling his semen into you. he thrusts into you a couple more times, letting his cum splatter into the walls of your overworked cunt and he pulls out, enjoying the sight of your leaking pussy. he walks around the boulder to head back to his horse, and you see him begin to dress himself.

"if i have you, why would you need this forest, hm?" he asks, glancing at you as he's buttoning his shirt.

"this forest was gifted by the gods for my friends and I to stay safe from mortals. usually those who wander here are punished by the gods through us." you reveal to him, voice still hoarse from all the screaming you just did a few seconds ago. he laughs, a rich laugh, at your words,

"punish? mi vida, if this is your punishment, then i might as well take over your forest. do your friends have sweet cunts like you do? maybe i should get a taste of them all," he snickers, and watches you frown at his words, "don't be jealous, amor. you're the only one i want anyway."

he walks over to you after he's fully clothed, and cups your cheek, "come with me. i meant it when i said i want you as my queen. you won't have to live in this forest, you will have all the luxuries you could ever ask for."

"and this forest?" you ask.

"i'll still take it, but i won't do much harm if you're so fond of it," he replies, but it is not enough for you. consciousness settles into the crevices of your mind, and you realize you have overstayed your welcome with this king. you pull away from his touch, sending one final glance to him before jumping into the waters, swimming away as the butterflies follow you. king carlos watches you flee from him, confused that you just rejected such an amazing proposal. he wasn't even one to do so, and he laughs at his own foolishness to be chasing after some unknown creature in the woods. but his feelings remain the same, he wants you as his, no matter what happens.

as he moves towards his horse, he sees the white cloth that had been adorned on your body and he picks it up, inhaling that scent of yours that made his knees weak. he wraps the cloth around his hand and hoists himself onto his horse.

"i'll find her again one day, and the next time, i won't let her escape. she will be my queen, you hear me?" he says to the horse, who merely snorts and stomps its foot in response.

"oh, shut up," he hisses, before tapping the sides of his shoes against the horse's abdomen, and rides off deeper into the woods.

* what type of creature are you ** I should punish you for that, my little slut *** Look at you, so beautiful, so perfect, such a good fucking slut for me. **** you can and you will cum for me