#Paradise Kiss live action

[beautifulsnake2162020]

Rambling fangirl thoughts on the Parakiss anime and live action movie

So while there was a lull in my life I discovered Paradise Kiss because of StealTheSpotlight's video on how to dress like an Ai Yazawa character . I haven't personally watched any animes based on her work although I have seen how stylish both the manga and anime were. Out of all the three IPs discussed I was most drawn to Paradise Kiss because of the tall Victorian lady who I would later learn would be Isabella Yamamoto. She's like the version of me that I wish I could afford to dress up as more frequently.

I found myself binging all 12 episodes (I was surprised it was that short) in one day and I watched the live action version with english subs yesterday (or more specifically yesternight). And my gosh I am so glad I discovered it now while I'm in my 20s and not when I was in my teens otherwise I wouldn't have appreciated the ending as much.

Speaking of endings I found an article detailing the differences between the anime and the manga and how the anime and the live action adaptations are just not as good as how the last events in the manga took place. Now while I haven't read the manga yet, I will admit that this article peaked my curiosity into checking out the live action movie version.

The next section is just me rambling on the differences between the anime and the live action film and why I believe their respective endings work for each adaptation. There will be no reference to the manga because I haven't read it yet, but once I have the money to buy a hard copy of it I will.

Due to the differences in media there is inevitably going to be changes to how the story is told.

1.) The anime having the benefit of telling more longer stories could afford to be more nuanced was able to show why despite George and Yukari loving each other, they also weren't made to end up together. They helped each other grow and they definitely made an impact on each other but they were also not good for each other. George while helping Yukari become more independent and mature more, is emotionally unavailable and does tend to play games with her emotions whether it was intentional or not (or more importantly whether there was malicious intent or not). And Yukari is also quick to jump into conclusions and can be judgmental and hypocritical sometimes which is something that we see her eventually grow out of. By the time we get to the end wherein they broke up to pursuit their dreams, its bittersweet because we know it is necessary for both of them to grow and yet it is still painful. This break up was the start of them maturing into becoming a man and a woman. While they may not be a couple anymore there is a lingering sense that they are both grateful for the time they had with each other. Yukari has moved on and is engaged to Hiroyuki who is better for her than George was. And yet we also can't deny that it's because of her mistakes and experiences with George that Yukari has grown from the girl we saw in the beginning.

2.) The live action while still a wonderful adaptation in my opinion has the limitation of having to tell the entire story within two hours. Because of this I assume that the changes made here to make the story work within 2 hours are even more drastic than what the anime has chosen to cut. However having said that the changes that were made for the live action version totally works and even makes the ending wherein George and Yukari end up together worth it. In the live action, while there has been flirting and eye staring between them, they never officially became a couple. Heck it's most likely that in this version they didn't even sleep together unlike in the anime. And that changes a lot of things. Because they were at most, two people who are attracted to each other but they weren't a couple yet, George being emotionally unavailable could be excused as being focused on his graduation dress project and Yukari slowly learning not to brush off the hard work and passions of fashion design students, even if she may not share their passion for fashion designing. The stakes for the graduation fashion show are higher because in the movie their brand, Parakiss, failed to sell any clothes and the blue dress will also symbolize the last dress the team makes together before going their separate ways. It is only after her first runway walk that George allows himself to genuinely kiss her and she returns it unlike the first time he takes her into a hotel wherein she was really clear that she wasn't interested in being his sexual partner or a girlfriend. And over the course of the entire movie we see her falling in love with him even though she may not want to admit it yet. And it is because they weren't a couple yet and we don't know them as a couple during this time that makes the ending worth it. After their heart breaking separation and three years later we learn that she has rejected Hiroyuki and decided to focus on her career as a model. She has become a top model that International clients wants her to model for them which is how she ends up in New York and discovers that George is now a costume designer and Isabella gives her the address to his studio. Their reunion and them sharing a kiss and becoming a couple for the first time in this version of Parakiss is so satisfying because at this point they are both no longer teenagers but more certain adults who have both found their place in the world and found who they are. There's an optimism that in this version of their story, things may work out because both have grown. Which is why them ending up together only works in the live action version of the story but would be horrible in the anime version.

Overall I am glad both versions of this story exist. The anime being more realistic and bittersweet shows how not all people you love are meant to stay with you forever. This nevertheless does not invalidate the love shared or the impact that love has on a person's growth. While the live action shows a story of how sometimes you need to work on your dreams, your identity, and other parts of yourself before being ready to love someone else. And sometimes when the Universe knows you're ready, they'll send love your way.

I can't wait to pass the bar exam next year so that I could finally read the manga.

[peachmoonsworld]

🪷🏮Nana live action🏮🪷

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

The First "I Love You" - Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: You tell Adam that you love him for the first time, the first of any of his wives to tell him that. Your confession of love leads to Adam showing you just how much he loves you back.

Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pie, Adam being his usual insufferable self, SMUT, MDNI

The world outside of Eden's garden was a dangerous one, but your husband never failed to keep you safe. Adam had told you stories of the garden and how he lived there with Eve, years before your creation as his third wife. His tales of the place he described as Earth's own heavenly paradise where your every need was met always enamored you; for you too wished you could experience it with him by your side.

The possibility of that happening was long gone as soon as Eve bit into the forbidden apple, but without the actions of your predecessors, you wouldn't have come to be. In a way that even you admitted was a little fucked up, you were grateful that things happened the way they did, and you were grateful you got to meet the love of your life.

Adam was an asshole with an ego that was far too big, but at the end of it all, he was the same man who kept you safe during the day, and who held you at night, keeping you warm despite the cold night, just as he was in the present moment.

You snuggled up to him, your head laying on his chest while his hand absentmindedly combed through your hair; the two of you attempting to get some sleep, gazing up at the stars in the night sky. You certainly weren't in the Garden of Eden, but being with him was like your own personal paradise.

You looked up at him. His eyes were half-lidded and threatening to close from his quickly growing need for sleep. He yawned, pulling you closer, an action that earned a gentle smile from you. You leaned up, kissing him softly.

"Fuck was that for?" He questioned. "You tryin' to fuck, babe? Usually, I'd be thrilled, but I'm exhausted as shit right now."

You shook your head. "I just wanted to kiss you, is all." You replied, smiling at him warmly. He gave you a curious look, unfamiliar with the concept of a kiss that was more chaste in nature. Whenever he kissed you, or his previous wives, in the past it was in the throes of a lustful exchange.

"...Why? Do you want something else, or...?" Confusion filled his voice in a rare moment where he wasn't his usual confident, boisterous self. You shook your head. "I wanted to do it because I love you, Adam." Those last four words played on repeat in his head. "I love you, Adam."

The phrase "I love you," had been uttered by a human before; he had said it to Lilith, and then Eve, but never to you. Yet here you were, the first one to say it to him, all of your volition. The feeling in his heart was indescribable to him, something he never felt before, and it felt better than anything else. Knowing that the one he loved felt the same for the first time ever made him feel almost euphoric, and he was determined to get as much out of that feeling as possible.

His lips crashed against yours in a passionate kiss. He climbed on top of you, moving his lips down to your neck where he sloppily kissed and nibbled, earning a light moan from you; one of his favorite noises.

"Let me show you just how much I love you back," he said, voice low, his hands moving to your thighs. "You want that, don't you? Tell me just how much you want that, sweetheart." Your legs spread instinctively as he loomed over you, the pale moonlight of the night reflecting off of him and giving him an alluring glow.

"Adam, please," you breathed out, pulling him down, your faces nearly touching. "I want you so much. Make love to me, fill me up, do whatever you want to me—" He silenced you with another kiss, pushing into you slowly. You moaned into him, your arms wrapping around him in an attempt to get as close to him as you possibly could, savoring the intimacy of it all.

His thrusts were slow, yet deep, and the pace had you feeling every single inch of his cock inside of you. It was a welcome contrast to the usual way he fucked you; with quick, rough movements and an eagerness to reach only his climax and not yours. It seemed for once he was fully enjoying the pleasure shared between you, and in no real rush.

"Say it again," He told you, burying his face into the crook of your neck as his speed increased just slightly. "Say you love me, baby." With your mind clouded with pleasure you barely heard him, your only focus being on the way his cock fucked into your pussy. Unsatisfied with your response, he grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look into his eyes filled with arousal, love, and a twinge of desperation.

"Say. It." He growled, each word followed with a sharp thrust that hit your sweet spot head-on.

"I love you—fuck! Adam!—" You threw your head back, arching your back as he rewarded you by speeding up, thick cock stretching you out perfectly with each movement. "Love you—fuck, yes!" You let out a loud moan as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion.

"Gonna fill you up," He groaned, the sound of his hips smacking against yours filling the air. "'I'm gonna get you pregnant, have you do what those other unfaithful bitches couldn't do for me. You probably want that more than anything, to be my perfect little wife who only loves me."

You only nodded at his words, practically drunk off of the feeling of his cock fucking into you so deliciously, your mind clouded with pleasure. Your nails dug into his back as you attempted to ground yourself, your orgasm barreling towards you; its arrival sure to be at any moment.

"Gonna cum—" He warned, moaning out your name in a way that made you even wetter than you already were. "Y-You gonna let me fill you up? Let me–oh shit—" He moaned again as you wrapped your legs around his waist, burying him in deeper and locking him in place at the same time. There was no pulling out now, not like he was going to anyways.

"Loveyouloveyouloveyou—Ah! Fuuuuck!" He growled, his hips stilling, warm cum spilling deep into you. The feeling of him filling you to the brim sent you over the edge, your climax consuming you.

You two remained in silence for a long couple of moments, looking into each other's eyes in a shared adoration before he pulled out, laying next to you. You closed your eyes, satisfied, yet tired.

"Come here," He said, voice gentle, pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around your waist. "Let's do that shit you always want to do after I fuck your brains out."

You furrowed your brows in a slight confusion before quickly realizing what he meant. You let out a giggle. "You mean cuddle, Adam? You usually just go to sleep afterward. What changed?"

He rolled his eyes in response to your question, trying to hold back the smile sneaking its way onto his face. "Trust me, I'm going to sleep, babe. Might as well hold onto you so you don't sneak off or some shit like all fucking women seem to do."

You ignored the implications of his comment, snuggling up to him. "I love you, Adam. I mean it. I'm not going anywhere."

He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth in his heart from your words. "Love ya, too. Now go to sleep, the man needs to get his rest."

You closed your eyes, the feeling of him tracing imaginary patterns into your back lulling you to sleep. You loved him, and he loved you, even if he was still struggling to fully accept it.

[romanoffsbish]

Discovering Paradise

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | Sapphic best friends wrapped up in a familiar warm embrace, who knows, they might even kiss… | WC: 1,336

18+ | Minors DNI

Warnings: Idiots in Love

Smut: Dry Humping (Non-Con) | Wet Dream (R) | Mommy (N) | Hinted at Fingering / Oral

A soft blue light cast out into the otherwise dark living room of your shared apartment; Natasha watched your face in anticipation as an action packed scene broke off on the screen. You didn't even flinch, but had you been awake you would have buried yourself in her to hide from the bloody mess and to her that was amusing.

Natasha snorted softly at the recollection, then she settled down with her arms crossed on your chest, chin propped up to observe you over the film. This was the woman's favorite thing to do, movie nights where you never failed to pass out by the second film. Leaving her the time to appreciate your beauty and it not be weird.

——

Whenever you catch her staring, which is rarely, you always gave her a dopey smile and cluelessly teased her about the crush she very well did have. For Christ sake here she was lying on top of you, but you’d failed to get it and it was never clear to the trained spy if the look of adoration in your eyes was platonic or romantic.

Poor woman was head over heels for you and all she could do was to pine in the quiet moments like this.

Then you broke her trance as you whimpered softly, “Natasha,” and her eyes were wide and moving up. Natasha shifted ever so slightly, trying to see if your eyes were open now, but something about the way her hips moved made you moan loudly in your sleep.

“Oh,” she realized what was going on, her cheeks flushed red and her irises blew. You were best friends, but deep down it was clearly more than that, because what 'best friends' sleep with their fronts pressed together, in the tiniest sleep shorts and whimper their names and moan like that at the softest of touches.

Only the ones with a sapphic prophecy to fulfill...

"Fuck," Natasha groaned her frustrations, her core now alit with a throbbing need, one you seemingly share. The redhead rubbed her face against the exposed side of your neck and swiveled her hips more noticeably.

Once again she was rewarded with a moan, alongside a subtle twitch of your own hips. Natasha paused, pulling away to see your scrunched up expression.

"What are you dreaming of detka?" Natasha posed the question that couldn't yet be answered. "Is it me?" She continued to firmly press her covered pussy to yours, "Fuck, I really hope it is detka, I-I need this so badly."

With the sudden urge to cross the line and make you hers, well, the humping intensified; to a point where you were both far too wet to consider this encounter dry anymore. The intense course of pleasure that rolled through your body woke you with a frightened moan.

"Natty?"

The redhead practically squealed, your sleepy voice was too attractive and it made her entire body quake. "Good morning sweetheart," she husked against the shell of your ear, her wet tongue flicked over the warm skin and you whimpered so deliciously that she nearly came. “You were begging mommy in your sleep…”

Natasha chuckled as you whined, your hips now moving in sync with hers as your orgasms built. It was clear she had more to say, so before she could continue teasing you, you turned your head and sloppily kissed her lips, catching her off guard; rendering her silent as she met your eagerness with her own intensity.

In a matter of seconds she took total control of the kiss that had sent her heart and mind racing. It was exhilarating finally being able to taste and feel you. Knowing that you were not upset but eager to continue this made Natasha stutter in her movements, it was hard for her not to use her fingers on you instead but she knew you were both so close and it would be even hotter if you finished with her bare minimum touch.

To keep herself from giving into her urge Natasha's strong hands fell to your hips, and with the strength of a superhero she flipped your positions, using the moment of shock to slip her tongue into your agape mouth. All the while her firm hands began to help you roll your hips in sync with the way she jutted upwards.

"That's it detka," she murmured against the skin of your throat, you were now panting, breasts heaving against the redhead’s chiseled jaw with every breath you took in. The shuddered release against her cheek with every press of your throbbing core to hers.

“I-I’m clo—.” Natasha cut you off with a breathtaking kiss, she was in the same position as you but for some reason she just craved the simple intimacy to bring her to the edge. “Let go detka, come with mommy.” It was like a landslide the way that you fell over the edge with your roommates command, the abrupt release as you felt the entirety of your body tingle with pleasure.

The way you moaned against her cheek and wet her abdomen through your shorts made the redhead feel a returned stamina but she could tell you needed to rest so she guided your lips to hers for a kiss, just in case this moment was a once off test of chemistry for you.

For now Natasha would hold you close, and pretend that there’s nothing to figure out now. It was once she felt your lips lose their fight that she guided your face into her neck. “Mommy will take care of you, but first you need to rest..." You were lost in your head, unsure of the care she promised, but you unconsciously smiled against her skin at her soft attempt at reassurance.

Thoughts aimlessly swirled around your head while you steadily came down from your orgasm: ‘does she love really me too? — of course she does idiot’; ‘do I tell her? — who knew that dreams really did come true.’

As the haze faded one major thought remained, and it was that you wanted an entire life with Natasha. Not just one wet dream inspired encounter, it would break your heart but you also respected your friendship...

No matter what though, you knew you'd be okay, which is why you broke the metaphorical silence.

"We should probably talk," you chuckled against her neck and you felt the rumbling of her own laughter. "Or we can just finish the movie, take a nap, then I'll take you out to dinner then return to have dessert..."

You, begrudgingly, pulled back from the warmth to catch the look in her eyes. The resentment faded when you saw a deep, genuine swirl of affection in her eyes that was paired perfectly with a natural smirk. It was clear she was patiently waiting for your reply but it was delayed by your need to simply admire her beauty.

The freckles on her face had just begun to pop with the increased sunshine and they looked so pretty alongside her blush. The blush that the steamy sex with your best friend caused. It was unreal that you witnessed the reason for never harboring feelings. Because, yes, Natasha was always going to hold that title, it was never a question, but she's not limited to it either, and she's always been a self-proclaimed a jack of all trades.

So, if she was to be the love of your life you’d hoped she wouldn’t mind and would accept the offer with joy.

When her lips turned into a frown you leaned in to peck them briefly before nuzzling back into her neck where you left a smattering of lazy kisses. "I could use a nap."

Natasha pinched your hips playfully but it was all in good fun because she knew your teasing well enough. Her lips softly pressed to your temple before she shut the TV off and let the sound of your calmed breathing ease her into the best sleep she has ever gotten.

[flametrashiraarchive]

hi! i wanted to ask if you’re able to write any nsfw douma head cannons? it’s totally okay if you’re not able to :^)

*punches the air with both fists*

YESSS!

I hope this is okay. There's a warning near the end because the last part is about menstruation and him being fond of it and yeah... maybe you don't want to read that.

NSFW under the cut. Also mild spoilers for Douma's canonical personality.

DOUMA x reader NSFW headcanons

He enjoys sex greatly as a prelude to dinner.

It helps tenderize the meat.

But he doesn't cum. Ever. The physical sensation is pleasant but empty.

Doesn't masturbate.

Until he meets you.

Douma has been complimented on his beauty all his life; it's expected at this point, but you're the first person he's met who compliments him with actions rather than words.

When you lean against him for comfort? When you ask how he's feeling when he's just sitting, staring into space? When you ask him to keep talking and discuss more than just mundane things??

Yes, he'll keep you around. You interest him.

You're also genuinely nice to him, and not for the promise of eternal paradise. You just... like him. He's not used to that.

When he confesses he's a demon and you just accept it? You don't scream and run away? You're his now.

People hunt and eat rabbits and keep bunnies as pets.

You're his soft little bunny and he so loves to play with you.

Will absolutely initiate tickle fights. Wins every time. (he's not even ticklish, he's just a menace.)

Kisses your nose when you're mad at him.

Fucks you against the wall (sometimes halfway up it)

He leaves marks every time you fuck.

Man's a biter.

Hickey king.

He wants everyone to know you're his. If you wear his marks proudly he'll pop a boner every time he sees you.

Coos over you when you get overstimulated. Finds it adorable and pretty funny when you're cockdrunk and fucked out.

Yes, you've fucked on that giant pillow he sits on for sermons.

Actually, you've fucked on every square inch of the temple.

Including the ceiling. it was your birthday, he wanted to make it special.

He is a big boy.

Likes when you sit in his lap and bounce on him. Puts his face in your tits and can't stop smiling.

Giggles when he makes you cum.

You discover together that he has very sensitive nipples. He whimpers the first time you flick one with your tongue.

HE FELT SOMETHING!!

"Do it again, pet..."

By the end of it he's a blushing mess. One more touch and he'll lose his mind. He needs... he needs...

He pulls you onto him, grips your hips and uses his strength to drive you up and down on him. You're his fleshlight now. He's done when he's done.

whimpers.

The first time he cums it's a jumpscare for him.

THAT'S WHAT IT FEELS LIKE?

I see I see... let's do it again.

From that day on it becomes about how much mess the pair of you can make.

One day it occurs to him that his heart flutters whenever you're near.

Wants to turn you into a demon so you can be with him for eternity. Gets off on you being his helpless little human pet... why must life be so cruel?

WARNING: go no further unless you're okay with sex and cunnilingus during menstruation

Oh my oh my. When you bleed he's a whole new level of feral.

He will live between your thighs that entire week just... lapping it up.

It's nutritious and it's you. He loves it.

Fucking lies there on his belly, kicking his feet and fingering you so he can lick his fingers clean.

"Orgasms help with cramps, pet." he bats his eyelashes and smiles like he's only doing this for your benefit.

Man's a menace.

[rosiesmuts]

Clandestine

BLACKPINK Lisa

Words: 2,200

Tags: 🍑

A/N: Late quickie.

It could only be described as paradise. The gentle rays beaming down, crystal clear blue water surrounding all around. A vast system of valleys and caves with not another person in sight. Yet the only thing your mind could process is the barely covered Thai idol–her skin glistening with beads of ocean droplets lighting up her already pale skin.

"Are you sure about this Lisa?"

"Just shut up and take the picture. I've been living under a microscope for the past 7 years."

She raises her arms above her head and poses for the perfect Instagram shot–the teeny bikini barely covering up her tight little ass.

"Let me see. Let me see." Lisa excitedly scurries over after hearing the shutter of the camera click. While she giggles and taps her fingers against her phone, you're left gawking at her ocean soaked body. Even with paradise all around, there's only one thing on your mind. Everything about Lisa was long and slender, every inch of her body from her fingers all the way down to her toes. Two tiny pieces of neon green fabric left almost nothing to the imagination; a thinly veiled excuse of a bikini. It's truly a magnificent sight, how could anyone be so toned yet soft and smooth.

"... And it's posted!" Lisa screams out energetically. Seven years of living under constant scrutiny, her contract is at an impasse while both sides remain under negotiations. Lisa was always a wild child, but now she feels the extra freedom with the weight of the company off her shoulders.

Lisa smirks, catching you staring like a deer caught in headlights. No point in denying it now, your slack jawed expression says it all.

"I'd tell you to take a picture, but you already did." Lisa teases as she catches you in the act. She walked towards you, a mischievous smile on her face, taking slow methodical strides with her long legs until she's nearly pressed against you. "Do you like what you see?" she whispers into your ears. Clearly a rhetorical question, one that she gives you no time to respond to. Hands and lips are all over you, lips nibbling at your collarbone while hands frisk at your chest. Lower and lower she goes, leaving a trail of kisses and light bites as she takes place on her knees.

She's in prime position, but she's one to play naughty little games. Over the protection of your shorts, Lisa gently grazes your shaft with delicate light touches. But that's not all, her full lips kiss the tip of your clothed cock–your desperation for her touch grows with each passing moment. Her cute face didn't match her lecherous actions, but this is only the beginning of what's to come. Her hands travel up to your waistband, her fingers sliding under the elastic. Painstakingly lowering your shorts until your friend springs into position.

"There's my favorite little toy." Lisa sing talks as she takes a hold of your cock.

"Excuse me? Little?"

"There's my favorite big toy," Lisa giggles at your bruised ego. "Now lay back and let me have some fun."

You do as instructed, laying flat on your back. Lisa straddles your right leg, leaning in to give your cock gentle kisses and licks, her soft tongue playing with your precum. She looks at you with her big gorgeous eyes, "Are you ready for some real fun Oppa?"

Her lips part and she sucks hard on your head. You moan out loud, your hips bucking upwards to meet her oral assault. Her mouth is warm and wet, it feels as though she's bathing your member in a pool of her own saliva.

"Mmmmm, I can feel you getting bigger and harder." She moves lower now, using her gentle fingertips to caress your balls. "I don't know if I'll be able to fit you in my mouth, but I'm going to try."

Her hair is getting in her face, so you hold it back. Your cock hits her throat, but she gets lower and lower each time. She gags a bit, but still manages to keep sucking away. Soon enough she's deepthroating you, her pink tongue swirling around your head as she looks up at you with a grin.

"You taste good."

Up and down she goes, taking the full length of your cock into her throat every time. The elicit noises of her gagging are the most erotic sound in the world. Lisa's stroking your thighs as she bobs her head, keeping constant eye contact. She pulls away and takes a deep breath before diving back in–holding herself down, her nose pressed against your pelvis until she turns red, tears running down her round cheeks.

She pulls herself off, coughing and gasping for air–a long trail of saliva still connected from your cock to her chin.

"I thought you said it was little." You tease as she struggles to catch her breath.

"Nope, it's big" She pouts. "But you're such a dirty boy, making me gag like that."

"I didn't make you do anything. You gagged yourself, you filthy little whore."

"Excuse me, I'm your filthy little whore." She giggles. "And I want more. Are you ready to stick that big cock into something tighter than my mouth?"

She bends over on her hands and knees, shaking her delectable cute ass in your face. As much as you love to slowly peel off her bottoms, there's no time to waste, pulling the knots on one side of her bikini and throwing the flimsy cloth into the sand.

You stick two fingers into her mouth, she sucks and licks, coating them with her saliva. Using your well lubricated digits, your tease around the ring of her ass. With great care you work your fingers inside, watching in awe as your fingers disappear into her tight hole. You continue on, twisting and twirling, spreading her out for what's to come.

"Just fuck me already" Lisa begs, always the impatient one when it comes to her ass.

"Your wish is my command, my Thai princess."

You grab ahold of her hips, moving her forward and then pushing her back. Your cock still slick with saliva, pressing your tip against her tight hole. Just your head penetrates when she lets out a scream of pain and pleasure.

"Keep going," she whimpers, her body relaxing to take more of you in.

You go slow, inch by inch, watching her as she squirms, trying not to move too fast. Her body relaxes with each pass, feeling her opening spread wider. Soon enough you're fully inside, your cock buried within her. Every inch of her is squeezing you tight. You've fucked her ass dozens of times by now, but each time gets better and better.

Your hips start moving, Lisa's moans blend perfectly with the sounds of the ocean.

"Harder, faster!" She begs.

You oblige, holding on to her hips as each slam of your hips gets faster. Every one sends shivers through her body, forcing a stuttering gasp to escape her lips. With a tug of the string to her top, it floats down into the sand–moving your hand upwards to grope her tiny tits, pinching her sensitive nipples in your hand as you pound away at her ass.

"Ohhh~" Lisa squeals, desperately trying to grasp at the sand.

"Is this what you wanted?"

"Yes, yes!" She cries out. "More!"

With that you pick up speed, thrusting with everything you have. Your stamina has grown immensely since you started fucking each member of BLACKPINK. Her body tenses up, her ass clenching even harder against your shaft.

"Just like that. Just like that." Lisa pleads. "Give it to me. Fuck me Oppa!"

"As you please"

Your pace continues, slamming into her tight little ass. Her body writhes under you, her moans turn into shrieks threatening your ear drums even in the open air. Her tenseness immediately loosens up as she screams out, her orgasm ripping through her body.

"AHHH~"

Her back arches, her ass spasms around your cock. Her beautiful face is locked in a grimace of pure ecstasy. Lisa shakes uncontrollably, her mouth wide open and her eyes squeezed shut as she convulses. You keep pounding away inside, holding onto her hips tightly, your thrusts slowing down to prolong her bliss.

"I... I..." Lisa pants, "...I haven't came that hard since that last time you fucked me."

You chuckle, kissing her on the cheek.

"I'm glad I could help, you were amazing."

"I forgot how good you feel..." Lisa leans back into your embrace. "...But what about you, Oppa? You still haven't cum." She feels your rock hard cock still pressed against her cute little ass.

She pushes you on your back, her long body looking intimidating from below as she towers over you.

"You know it felt amazing when Chaeyoung gifted you my pussy for your birthday..." She giggles.

It was hard to believe, Lisa allowing you fuck anything but her ass on her own volition, but there was no time to harp about it. She straddles your waist, reaching down to grab a hold of your cock, lining up your tip to her wet, post orgasmic folds.

You grip her hips, guiding her in. Her tight little snatch opens up for you, allowing you to easily slide inside. Lisa squeezes her pussy around the base of your cock, massaging it with her insides. She's earned the title of main dancer, doing body rolls with you buried deep inside her.

"How's it feel to have my pussy wrapped around your cock again Oppa?"

"Amazing."

"Well get ready for a ride." Her hands plant on your chest, bracing herself upright. Her feet steady themselves in the sand, then she's off to the races, bouncing herself up and down, your entire length gliding against her silky walls.

"Mmm...so fucking full..."she whispers to herself, snapping her head back. Your hands sneak up when she closes her eyes, your thumbs circling her sensitive nipples. The sudden jolt of excitement only redoubles her efforts, the sound of clapping flesh carries in the wind. A subdued moan escapes her lips and her movements become erratic. Her fingers interlock with yours, her eyes fluttering and her leg start to quiver. With a renewed, intensity, your upwards thrusts match with her downward slams and she screams out in ecstasy once again.

"Such a greedy little one, cumming again when you were supposed to be helping me."

Rather than answer your playful little tease, she leans in and shoves her tongue in your mouth, moaning into it while she rides out her orgasm. Her lips pull away and she lets out a sly smile, still leant over, her small little breasts just inches from your face. Once again, she shows off her renown dancing skills, twerking just her hips up and down. Showing off her multiple talents, her hips never stop moving even while she reaches behind and tickles your balls.

Followed up are little whispers into your ear; "They feel so full Oppa. I want you to cum for me. Cum anywhere you want. On my tiny little tits or my toned abs. Maybe on my face, hell you can even cum inside of me if you want..."

Her words are just the motivation you need.

"You're gonna make me - " You cry out, trying to hold back.

Instead of slowing down, she speeds up her twerking. Her chest rubbing against yours as she leans in and nibbles on your ears. "Just let go. Cum inside me Oppa."

Her erotic words hypnotize you into submission. You thrust upwards into her, driving yourself deeper with each forceful stroke. Her velvety walls squeezing you hard, and you finally release inside of her with a hefty groan. She keeps twerking her hips, trying to milk you for all your worth.

"That's it" She coos. "You're a dirty boy, filling me up with your cum."

She leans back and smiles, spreading her legs apart, making a display of the spunk oozing out of her and onto the sand.

"I'm a mess Oppa, but I like it." Lisa giggles.

You sit up, taking her dainty hand into yours and helping her up to her feet. She goes ahead of you, leaving her bikini behind and proudly makes her way back naked to the beach house.

She turns around and screams back at you, "GET READY FOR ROUND TWO OPPA!"

You let out a sigh, laughing to yourself, watching Lisa skip away without a care in the world. You lay back in the sand before following her back, taking the stairs up to the second floor. As soon as you enter the door, you see the four girls sitting on the couch.

"Hi!" They cheerfully greet you...

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 10

<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: Married, back in London, Jake comes crashing back into your life

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is married to the system.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings/notables: A n g s t, complicated relationship stuff, cursing. Alcoholism, violence, injury, blood. Lmk if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

Leaning down, he brushed his lips over your cheek in a tender kiss... the softness of you electrifying him utterly.

"I'll never let him near you," he vowed, his fingers reaching up to trace his lips where your skin had touched. "And I'll never let him take Marc away from you."

“Read to me, husband," you purred into Steven's ear, curling close to his side.

His eyes cut over to you and he grinned, reaching to lace his fingers with yours. You sighed, your heart overflowing as your fingertip traced over the gold band he now wore.

"Long flight, darling. You sure you don't want to rest a bit?" He suggested, gazing at you adoringly.

"Maybe I will if you read to me," you teased, pulling your intertwined fingers to your mouth, your lips grazing his ring.

You may have been on an airplane, but it still felt like your own little world.

After a few chapters about ancient Egypt, and a long nap, you awakened to your husband watching an 80's action film on the screen on the back of the chair in front of him.

Marc.

Latching on to his arm, your fingers found his again, just to toy with his wedding band.

"Hey, baby," he softly greeted, kissing your temple. "Steven bore you to death reading about the pyramids?"

"Absolutely not," you playfully defended, "I just find the sound of his voice soothing."

"You know what's soothing?" He pointed to his screen with a grin. "RoboCop."

You groaned. "How much longer till we land?"

"We're not even halfway," Marc replied, glancing at his watch.

"Maybe RoboCop will put me back to sleep."

Your honeymoon was magical.

All your hard work, saving and planning paid off, and you and your husband had the time of your lives. Sun-drenched days, passion-filled nights, nothing but relaxation in paradise. Playing games with Marc, reading with Steven, delicious food (and a delicious husband).

It was just the refreshing reset you needed to kick off married life.

Truthfully, you wondered about Jake - you missed him, and the tiniest part of you hoped nothing would interfere with your little bubble of temporary heaven.

Everything seemed fine - you made it back to London refreshed and ready to proudly sport your wedding band everywhere you went. You didn't care if it seemed a little old fashioned. You were proud and thrilled to have a wonderful, dreamy husband.

Steven transitioned into summer session classes at uni while you contemplated advancing your nursing career. Marc seemed steady, albeit a little quiet. Not brooding quiet - more like...observationally quiet.

The two of you had discussed what he might like to do. After all, he had spent years as a man of action. But he insisted he was content in his current role, making sure Steven got the education and credentials he deserved.

Still...something about him seemed a little off. There was no evidence of him drinking, and, even in his darkest times, drinking was never something he hid from you. It was a bit difficult to hide anyway, but he never even attempted to. So you didn't suspect alcohol as the culprit.

After insisting he was fine for a few weeks, he finally admitted how hard he had been trying to communicate with Jake. You were a little surprised at first, but only at first. After all, Marc had never enjoyed the feeling of not having control - whether over himself, his life, or just in general.

By now, an eternity had passed since you last saw or spoke to Jake. When Marc admitted that he had spoken to Jake quite a few times since your wedding, you had to bite your tongue to keep from asking, 'Did he ask about me?'

You already knew the answer. Jake was not interested in all things you. Besides, this wasn't about you anyway - it was about Marc as a system. Instead, you asked Marc why he didn't say something sooner to you about speaking to Jake.

"I didn't want to upset you," was his explanation. Fair enough.

Instead of starting an interrogation with questions like, 'Does he still work for Khonshu?' and the like, you kept your focus on your husband and asked, "Is that why you've been so quiet?"

Chewing on his lip, he waited a minute before replying, "Maybe. Just trying to figure some stuff out."

The look on your face clued him in to the fact that he was being vague at best. So he knelt down in front you as you sat in Steven's reading chair, took your hands and said, "I'll tell you more soon. I'm working really hard to figure out how we can all be happy - how we can all coexist and really be safe, and free of Khonshu for good."

Oh.

If Marc was working on something Khonshu-related, then his contemplativeness tracked. He was so earnest in trying to confess this little piece to you, that you decided to believe him and not prod too much right now. Just for now.

The very next night, you came home from work a little late - a night quite reminiscent of the one when you had found Marc drinking - to find your flat dark and mysteriously quiet.

Calling your husband's names, you headed to the bedroom to get changed when you heard a thump and a groan from inside the bathroom. Panic shot through your body as you bolted through the door, shoving it open to find...Marc? slumped over the closed toilet, shirtless, clutching his side and groaning in pain.

"Baby - what happened?" You gasped, kneeling down and switching into triage mode. That's when you saw blood pooling around his hand, oozing through his fingers.

What the hell...

"Shit, you're bleeding," you cried, stating the obvious while jerking the nearest towel off the rack to press to his side.

He grunted, reluctantly dragging his crimson-coated fingers away, hissing as you pressed the cloth into his side to staunch the bleeding.

Tears burned your eyes at the sight of your wounded husband, but only for a second, as your medical training kicked in. You noticed right away that his knuckles were bloodied, as if he'd punched a wall. His lip was split, his eyebrow was cut and there were even a few angry scrapes across his cheek.

"Hold this here for me, baby, I need to get the first aid kit," you sniffed, pulling his hand back over the towel covering his bleeding side. Most of what you needed was in the bathroom with you, so as soon as you were ready, you sat down and reached for his fingers.

"Here, let me see," you instructed. You gasped at the deep, angry gash in his flesh. "Okay...okay, I need to stitch this up, honey, it's deep." Pausing for a moment, you realized it was a horrible idea to tend to your husband, especially with tears stinging your eyes.

"Actually, here," you pushed the cloth back over his wound, making him groan in agony. "Come on. We need to get to A&E - "

"No," he firmly protested. "You do it."

You shook your head. "Marc, listen, I really should-"

"No," he repeated, his eyes finding yours. "Too many questions. No police."

Shaking your head in frustration, you grabbed your first aid kit, which was really a small medical bag, containing enough supplies to be useful in an emergency.

You would do anything for Marc, but right now, you were confused and growing more worried by the moment. "What were you even doing? How did you get hurt?" You huffed, gathering the supplies to mend his wound.

He didn't answer, and that pissed you right off.

Pausing just for a moment, you glared at him, before gathering some clean towels. Without a word, you hurried to the kitchen to set the kettle to boil, just in case you needed to sterilize anything the old fashioned way.

When you returned to your husband, you had calmed down a little.

Pulling the bloody towel away from his side once more, you started to clean the angry gash, attempting to get ready to close the wound.

A few minutes later, you instructed Marc to move to the bed. You certainly weren't going to stitch him up on the bathroom floor.

Pausing for a moment, you granted him a reluctantly sympathetic smile, brushing his sweaty curls away from his forehead.

"This is going to hurt. I don't have anything to give you - anything to numb the pain," you carefully explained. "Are you sure you don't want to go to A&E?"

He nodded once, but still wouldn't speak to you.

"How did you get hurt, Marc? I thought you still had...healing armor or whatever. From Khonshu." And why was he acting so weird?

The instant you had the thought that Marc really didn't seem himself was the moment you knew.

Staring into his eyes challengingly, you whispered his name. "Marc?"

Swallowing hard, he drew a trembling breath. "Not Marc."

All the blood drained from your face. You blinked rapidly, completely blindsided and so confused.

"Jake?"

Averting his gaze, he gave you another nod.

Despite all your medical training, you froze. Lips trembling, you reached up to his face, carefully minding his scrapes and cuts as your fingers traced his jaw. It had been so, so long...

"You're hurt," you whispered, as if it were new information. In a way, it was. Because a moment ago, in your mind, Marc was the one hurt. That was bad enough, but now, after weeks on end of hearing nothing...

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his eyes drifting closed at your touch. "Please help me."

Releasing his jaw, you covered his hand with yours, squeezing gently before nodding.

"This will hurt, Jake," you reminded him, as if he wasn't there a minute ago to hear your warning.

"'S okay. I deserve it." Closing his eyes, he laid his head down and waited for the pain.

You were going to fucking kill someone. Either Jake, for asking you to stitch him up rather than go to A&E while you were reeling, having not seen him for so long. Or Khonshu for honestly being a giant pile of dicks. Maybe even Marc. You weren't sure why you were mad at Marc, but you had a feeling he was involved in this steaming pile of shit somehow. The only one who might get a pass was Steven, unless he was in on this Khonshu bullshit too.

Jake could feel your anger. It was rolling off of you, electrifying the whole bedroom. But your hands remained steady, tender and professional, dancing over his wounded flesh. The dichotomy of your righteous anger and your healing mercy made him burn for you.

Each stab with your needle felt like a consequence for how he'd failed you. Failed Marc.

It was silent torture, but finally you finished, cleaning and bandaging the wound. You had thought he might pass out from exhaustion or pain, but he simply stared at the ceiling and said nothing.

Not one fucking word of explanation, or even a cry of pain.

With a sigh, you left the room to wash up and get rid of some of the bloody dressings and instruments. The sutures were not your best work - after all, you didn't stitch people up on a daily basis. But it would have to do.

Feeling exhausted in every way, you readied yourself to tend to the rest of Jake's injuries, bracing yourself for stone cold silence. It fucking hurt, but he was more than clear on the matter of not communicating with you.

Returning to Jake's beside, you said nothing. You simply lifted his hand into your own, carefully cleaning his bloody knuckles. You thought about making a joke along the lines of 'I should see the other guy, right?' but ultimately decided against it. It seemed pointless to even try.

Grabbing a couple extra pillows from your side of the bed, you handed them to Jake, who had been watching you warily.

"I need you to prop up so I can take a look at the cuts on your lip and over your eye," you explained.

He obeyed, shifting the pillows into position before protesting. "You've done enough, cariño, you don't have to - "

"Like hell I don't," you snapped. "My husband's body is hurt..." you exhaled shakily, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. "You're hurt, Jake. I'm doing this."

At first, he wouldn't look at you. You tended to the cut over his eye first - it was the worst one. "You'll need a bandage here...and it might even leave a scar through your eyebrow."

"I'm sorry," he repeated his apology from earlier. He didn't know what else to say.

"For what exactly?" You questioned, cleaning the scrapes along his cheek. You were close to him now, fingers brushing, eyes flickering, gazes locking. His breath ghosted over your hand.

"For everything," he offered, his own hand stretching out to grasp your elbow.

You jerked away. "That's really fucking specific, Jake. Thanks."

"Mi vida -" he started.

"Don't!" You bit out, glaring at him, your chest heaving. "Don't call me that. Just...just tell me how you got hurt. Tell me why you're not healing. Is Khonshu gone?"

Jake shook his head. "No. But our armor is."

"Why?" you gasped. "How can you...do your job if he doesn't protect you? I thought that was all part of the avatar package."

Jake didn't exactly feel comfortable with this line of questioning but he honestly didn't know what to do anymore.

"I think..." he started, clearing his throat. "I think it's...punishment."

Every negative and intense emotion coursing through your body narrowed to one. Terror.

"What?" You cried, placing your hands on his bare chest. "Khonshu did this to you?"

"No. He did this to Marc."

If there was anything Jake hated, it was causing you pain. He had made a sort of strange peace about staying out of your daily life, to protect you and Marc. He viewed returning your unopened letters as a mercy - as a way to let you off the hook.

But as you lay your head down on his chest, grasping his hand desperately, your warm tears flowing onto his bare skin, he knew he had utterly failed and completely misunderstood what you needed. After endless weeks of silence, it took one choked sob and desperate plea from you for him to break.

"Why would he hurt Marc?" You pleaded, clinging to Jake like a child would to a parent after a bad dream. "Please...please tell me what he did to my husband."

Jake smoothed his hand over your shoulder, rubbing your arm in a small attempt to comfort you, electrified by the nearness of you.

"I...um," releasing a shuddering breath, he decided you deserved to know. "Marc has been...talking to me. And Khonshu."

Jake went on to explain how Marc had been staying up late, attempting to maintain control of the body. How he had even gone out at night and summoned the suit -several times, in fact.

"Why?" You sniffled, leaning into Jake's embrace.

"I think he's trying to negotiate our freedom," Jake explained. "But...I don't want him to."

"Because it's your job," you spat, accusingly.

"No, mi amor," he gently corrected you. "Because the first night he put on the suit, he completely panicked, and almost bought some liquor."

You cried harder. What the hell was going on with them?

"He didn't drink," Jake clarified. "I was able to take the body after he started walking home. And the reason I don't want him doing all this is because I can't protect him if I'm not Moon Knight. If I'm not in control. If Marc is out there, and gets hurt, Khonshu doesn't care. He doesn't care if Marc drinks - in fact, he probably prefers it that way."

Easing his arms around you, Jake hissed at the stretch he felt in his stitched injury.

"Khonshu doesn't want me distracted," Jake explained. "By Marc or by you. He wants someone completely devoted to being his fist - to watching over the travelers of the night."

"That's bullshit," you argued, though most of your ire had given way to a form of despair. "If he was protecting people, he wouldn't have done this to Marc. He wouldn't have hurt him."

You and Jake lay on your bed, completely wrapped up in one another. He had tried to stay away for your sake, but if you needed this from him, he would gladly give it.

"He didn't hurt Marc directly," Jake went on. "He just..." blowing out a sigh, he mustered the courage to tell you. "He told Marc he was a worthless weakling and that he would pay for interfering. So..." Jake couldn't go on for a moment.

"What?" you whimpered, nuzzling your face into his neck as if you could hide from the horrible ancient deity.

"Khonshu waited until Marc was in the middle of a fight - he was trying to save a woman from...it was three men. Assholes..." His jaw clenched in fury. "Khonshu decided then to take away his armor. So...they beat the hell out of Marc and...they stabbed him. Cut him with a piece of glass. That's when I took the body." Too fucking late, as it turned out.

You broke down. You couldn't take it anymore. When would your husband ever be free of this torment?

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Jake said mournfully. "I tried so hard to protect him. To protect you from exactly a moment like this. I'm so sorry, mi vida."

He held you for a while, soothingly rubbing your back, thrilled and bewildered by the chance to hold you like this. To be able to give you some measure of comfort. To bear the injury Marc had sustained.

"Why do you call me that?" You softly questioned after your sobs had quieted. "Mi vida? Mi amor? I'm not."

Ouch. Jake's heart splintered.

But you went on to explain. "I've respected your choices, Jake, and your life on your own. But why do you call me those things if you don't even want to know me?"

"I told you - I do know you," he reminded you, his voice filled with conviction. "I think about you every day."

Propping up on one elbow, you peered down at him. "Then why won't you let me know you? Why did you return my letters?"

"To protect you," he insisted, wincing as you rolled your eyes. "From Khonshu. From everything. It was my fault Marc was drinking again. All of this pain, everything was because I wasn't doing enough - "

"Then let us help you, Jake," you pleaded. "Let's figure this out together."

"Marc tried and look what happened!" Jake fired back, flinching away from you. "He got hurt. He could have gotten us killed!"

Trying to sit up, Jake hissed in pain, his skin burning as your hands fussed over him, trying to help him.

"What happened tonight is exactly what I've been trying to prevent. No one is listening to me!"

"Because you don't fucking say anything!" You cried, climbing off the bed, scrambling around to stand in front of him. "All you do is play the martyr - lay down every piece of your existence on this sacrificial altar to a spiteful god! You don't talk to anyone, you don't know anyone, you don't do anything here but sleep!"

Tears streaked down your face as your lip trembled. "No one can listen to you because you've made yourself a ghost! You can't hear a ghost, Jake. You can't see or know a ghost. You can't love a ghost..."

Wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, you whispered woefully. "But I love you anyway. I'm here and I'll listen to you. You just don't say anything. And I know it's because of me. I know you can't stand to be around me - I guess you despise me - but you could at least try harder with Marc and Steven - "

"What did you say?" Jake breathed, his voice cold. With tremendous effort, he pushed himself off the bed and stood before you, eyes wet with fresh tears. "You think I despise you? How can you..." He trailed off, raking his fingers through his curls. "You really have no idea, do you?"

Shaking your head mutely, you stared up at him, so sweetly broken.

"You're right," he finally said, his head dropping in shame.

With a small whimper, you started to sniffle again, thinking you were right about how he couldn't stand to be around you.

"I haven't said anything to you. I've tried so fucking hard not to."

"Why?" you whispered. "What did I do wrong?"

He completely melted, reaching out for you. "Nothing, mi alma. Not one thing, ever."

Still confused, you shook your head mournfully. "Then why don't you..."

Murmuring your name, he brushed tender fingers over your cheek. "I was trying to keep you out of this - to keep you safe - to set you free - but I can see now - I only made everything worse."

Touching his forehead to yours, he wrapped one arm around your waist. "De verdad lo siento, mi amor. Por favor perdóname. Te amo."

He normally only spoke English with you, simply because that's what you spoke with Marc and Steven. But in his overflow of emotion, that's what came out.

"I'm sorry, I..."

"I understand," you whispered, your eyes wide, with a sliver of hope. "But you can say it again."

Tracing your lips with his thumb, he tried to show you everything inside his heart. He didn't deserve you, but he couldn't live without you anymore.

"I'm so sorry," he translated, brushing his lips over yours. "My love... please forgive me." Rubbing his nose against yours tenderly, he breathed against your mouth. "I love you."

next->

@stormydaysxx @laaundromat @kindlover @deezisnotreal @stevenknightmarc @imonmykneessir @marvelouslovely-barnes @evilbubu @usualsworld @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra @this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face @avengersinitiative2012 @lockleywife @poppyflower-22 @thursdaywritings @scoliobean @spxctor @flyesvenustrap @spxctors @cicithemes2000

[mxplesyrvp]

`•*ੈ💭`‧₊˚— whimsical whites and baby blues | feat. gojo satoru.

* ˚💭‧₊˚ synopsis — satoru thinks its dangerous for you to love him so much but he still can't help but be a little selfish, which scares him. however, you would stop at nothing to keep loving him either, even if it cost you your life.

⚘ word count + genre — 1.13k || hurt/comfort

⚘ warnings — spoilers + set in gojo's past arc, established relationship, a lot of internal monologue, less dialogue + more feels, mentions of death, very self-indulgent, not beta read. || gn!reader.

⚘ notes! — finally getting into writing after a long time and it's my first time writing for gojo! please be kind <33

you never knew that stars could taste like fractured dreams until you kissed him.

on most days, his kisses taste like clear blue skies —whimsical and full of wonder— stealing your breath with the secrets they held. but on other days, they were simple and delightful like clouds of cotton candy, each kiss a swirl of sugary sweetness. sometimes they were akin to cups of hot chocolate on a winter's night, comforting you with an embrace. other times, they tasted like stolen pancakes, crisp at the edges and soft in the centre, dipped in honey as they left a trail of golden warmth in their wake.

but now when your lips touched his, the only thing you could taste were stars so broken they had forgotten how to shine. they tasted like lost ambition, burning desperation and the hopelessness of being left alone yet again. it felt like the pleading of a worshipper whose God had left His shrine; like the silence of a lover who had had his heart broken.

when it came to gojo satoru, he liked to think that no force in the world could ever rival his strength. but this time, he had been brought down to his knees, his heart bloodied and blooming into a bruised flower, all because his God—the light of his life—had stepped over the threshold of his paradise.

even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, satoru loved you as much as you did him, despite death clinging to your lips. but no other feeling could ever compare to what he had for his best friend, geto suguru. and he was gone, taking the keys to the doors he had locked so meticulously with those cursed hands of his, for he believed that gojo could never open them up without him.

"i was starting to get used to the thought that you weren't coming back either," he said, misery sitting heavy on his tongue.

"to be very honest," you said, a small smile pulling the corners of your lips,"i was getting used to it too."

it had been over a month since you were stranded in the nasty domain of the curse you were assigned to exorcize— a hellish paradise you would love to live in had it been a real place, had it not been killing you so slow that you barely ever noticed. hours after you saw through your assignment, you knew of all the things that had transpired in the time you were held off. the assassination of the star plasma vessel, the death of toji fushiguro, geto and his new plan of action— after all, bad news had wings and the winds always favoured them to travel faster.

"i don't think I'll ever get used to this weird feeling," he huffs out, his gaze unfocused, shifting towards the window.

and you, just like always, could no longer tell if his eyes were a reflection of the sky or the sky resided within them. blue, blue, blue— so blue that you could almost see the storm brewing within them. you could tell he was lost in that storm, vulnerability teasing the edges of the surface under which he had buried it.

"what feeling?" you asked quite bluntly, bringing him back to reality.

and those beautiful blue eyes found their way into your weary ones. You would never get over how blue they were or how much you would love to drown in them, until you were that very colour and nothing else was left of you. It was a curious thing to keep guessing how much depth those eyes held and once again your mind was splintered between deciding whether they were more akin to the ocean than the skies.

"the feeling of being left behind like this," he said, the pain behind each word so pronounced that even you could feel it. "it's like almost everyone i'm associated with is always driven to the edge. they distance themselves or just....die. i'm afraid that one of these days, i might cause you to leave as well."

this time, you couldn't help but snicker a little. if you were to count the number of times you made memories with gojo, you'd find that most of them were nightmares. but even in those you could find buds of hope; because nightmares were dreams too. dreams were hopeful little things. and they were the heart's favourite delicacies for which it hungered so relentlessly.

it was a given there was no safe place in the world for people like you. people like you who carried angels within your hearts and demons in your blood, who were often brought down by that which you hunted, who carried battles in your fingertips, in every breath and every heartbeat— there was no place safer than this one for you. it was a daunting thing to love someone in a world like that, where every breath you drew could be your last. but brutal was the heart which fed on love and it would stop at nothing to want more of that feeling.

"there's no way I would ever leave on my own," you said, smiling through your teeth, "even death will be a small price to pay. he pales in comparison to what I have with you, satoru."

"and you, kind of need a hug," you added more as an afterthought to lighten the mood a little.

gojo wasted no time to pull you into him, both his hands snaking around your waist and his face buried in the crook of your neck. he smelled like caramel and citrus as usual, his breath soft and frosty hair tickling your skin.

you knew better than most humans that you did not have all the time in the world. if death wanted you, he would find you even if you tried to hide from him. but for now, it was helpless against the sun inside of gojo. the sun within him didn't shine like early morning warm rays but it burned like wildfire. it burned so golden that it was almost white, scorching your heart in the process. and he still believed that he was safe— safe enough to love you and for you to love as well.

he knew very well that the sun inside him could burn the world, but he still looked at you like you were his undoing, he still held you like he wanted you to love him. and to love him was to face the wildfire inside him— to burn with him.

at that moment, you wish you could have a conversation with death. if you could, then you would look it in the eyes and say something you knew would make death's heart stop.

"if you want me, then find me in the ashes."

© mxplesyrvp, since 2022, all rights reserved. Do not copy, repost, modify or translate without permission.

[rainbowchaox]

Purgatory Pissa Masterpost Part 1:

Look guys Missa hasn’t streamed again since day 1 of the event! So I was thinking to make it easier for artists and fic writers to remember canon moments. And I am HAVING thoughts. And feeling the need to yet again be “normal” about my favorite cubitos.

Let’s be honest. Philza was so happy to see Missa was online it was adorable. In Philza POV he practically started the zooming into Missa from the top of the wall. HUSBAND SPOTTED! And the amount of joy between them seeing each other again! THEY MISSED EACH OTHER SO MUCH!!!

Then Missa! Finally got a little brave and practically demanded Philza to give him a HUG. And guys I squealed watching it live. And philza immediately GAVE his husband a hug. And then tubbo immediately was like “are you guys gonna kiss and shit?” And PHILZA broke. Like HMMM why you hesitating why the confusion. Like DO YOU WANNA KISS HIM YOU REPRESSED CROW-

Then we also have to talk about THAT scene. The scene where quite frankly Missa just stared at his husband pecs as Philza canonically flexed- causing Philza to quickly get shy. Missa is so down bad that even I was like “MISSA PLEASE!”. This is the same man in the same stream where he legit called a painting of Philza “papacito” which I learned is like the Spanish version of “daddy”. Which Missa was very judged by his own chat for. It was hilarious. Cubito Missa was a different breed of simping and yearning this stream. I wish I made all of this up, but nope IT HAPPENED CANONICALLY. AND THEY EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL?!?

But what everyone should focus on the most is when cucurocho said quesadilla island was a paradise. Mr Simpfonia himself immediately agreed because and I quote “Philza is here”. THIS IS BIG! Because EVEN Missa knows the island is horrible. Chayanne is gone for Void Sakes. BUT ITS PARADISE TO MISSA BECAUSE HE LOVES PHILZA- I’m so normal about this dudes. Because even spiderbit can’t say the island is paradise because they met each other on the island, but Missa casually says it like it didn’t rewrite pissa warriors brain chemistry. Something something Philza is comfort and safety to Missa. He loves Philza so much. Truly a bleeding heart with loyalty so strong it’s titanium.

And can we all talk about how Philza when they were separated waved goodbye to Missa when Missa back was turned? Philza doesn’t show affection through words. But by actions. Something something he is already missing Missa. The tsundere crow. JUST ADMIT YOU LOVE HIM-

Also Missa before all of this showing off his aquarium apartment. And casually says “The point is so Philza doesn’t notice so we can stay close to him” BITCH ITS PHILZA AND MISSA FOR A REASON! Did you forget the double bed?!?!!!? Pissa love each other so much it’s slowly becoming a obsession. Not to mention mISSA in general hauntings Philza thoughts (dude checked the map to see Missa when he died-) we get it Philza you love him and are sad you got spilt up. ESPECIALLY BECAUSE YOU NEVER GET TO SEE YOU HUSBAND AND MISS HIM-

Another great moment is when Missa heard his own team mates saw Philza and immediately was possessive and protective DESPITE THEM ACTUALLY BEING ON ENEMY SIDES was like “No don’t hurt my man”. Missa wants his husband to be safe. And nice to know his possessive streak is healthy as ever. Philza is HIS man. I swear Missa we get it- YOU LOVE HIM. THEY MAKE ME CRAZY. And guys it was a experience watching Missa POV. Because he was ignoring all the death and chaos in the chat BUT the moment when Missa saw Philza die his whole face changed expressions. Philza was the only death he reacted too I ain’t lying.

Now for the best part of the stream, Missa causally entered the VC of red team. And I quote “I’m not part of your team but I wanna tell you I love you guys”. PHILZA IMMEDIATELY SAID I LOVE YOU BACK. Of course everyone else was suspicious of Missa being so nice and called him a manipulator while Philza immediately was like “No he wouldn’t do that”. PHILZA TRUSTS MISSA SO MUCH-

LIKE WE UNDERSTAND! You guys are always on each other minds. We were fed so much! And I can’t wait to see what other cute pissa moments we get in the future- I hope you enjoyed my rambling essay. I feel like there should be a masterpost of pissa moments in case anyone needed a refresher! Will make Part 2 once we get more cute pissa moments!

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲.

──────────── 𝐰𝐜 — 1k 𝐜𝐰 — fanon!rafe on a one-way flight to simp city, some spice but nothing graphic or excessive, mention of drugs/being high (it's rafe, what did you expect?), 'kid' as a pet name bc he is that guy + cliffhanger? 𝐚/𝐧 — this was originally posted on @holy-pucks for my nov 23 slumber party, but i've decided to upload it here because it never showed in the tags. if you've already read this, i would very much appreciate you showing it some love here as well :) thx a mil in advance, besties! ────────────

main masterlist | MDNI

RAFE CAMERON knew the risk. He just couldn't be bothered to give a shit. 

if one of the loud-mouthed busybodies took issue with his behavior, that's their prerogative. they've been at it so long, drunk and overzealous, their flippant chatter is mere static in the background of his life. 

it isn't his fault their stale lives and expired marriages pale in comparison to the pocket of paradise he carved out of figure eight. rafe didn't ask for their attention, nor did he solicit their opinions — and he certainly didn't invite an audience; his girlfriend writhing in his lap will never be a spectator sport.  

it would be too generous to call it sympathy, but rafe can understand how they might get confused. once you catch a glimpse, you're as good as gone. a lost cause, irrevocable, and clear as day. beauty that effortlessly captivating is impossible to tear your eyes away from, and the original kook princess is bathed in excess. 

of all people, he knows the breadth of her magnetism and is just as weak for it, if not more. egotism drains along with reason when they're simply in the same room, his carnal preoccupation more than happy to fill the vacuum of power. 

rafe commands the island and its inhabitants — with one paramount exception. he wields power because she allows for it. she, who is his indisputable sovereign and to whom he pledges his undying allegiance with innate reverence. 

it was his wandering hands, after all, which led the pair to an empty veranda overlooking the bustling midsummer festivities. 

a laurel of fresh blooms became collateral damage soon after, having been unceremoniously knocked to his feet by her fervent desperation to feel his sun-kissed skin against her lips. 

rafe certainly had no objections. 

with a heap of silky fabric rucked up around her waist and her wrists pinned taut to the small of her back, rafe's girlfriend works him over with both teeth and tongue, the affection carefully choreographed to sync up with the sway of her hips. each nip, suck, or kiss accompanies her precise labors, and any marbled evidence left behind he'll wear with pride, much to the island's chagrin and his sisters' disgust. 

rafe previewed the evening's fireworks display as she bore down on his aching bulge, never once ceasing the light nibbling of his earlobe; it's the tell-tale, strained whimper diced by gritted teeth that incited action.

his hips jerk up in search of sweet relief, inadvertently finding her bare heat well beyond wet and wanting. 

rafe commends his past self for confiscating the lace as they neared the valet podium; the garment fares better as a pocket square. 

close proximity amplifies all those delicious, needy sounds, robbed of their potential prematurely; she is not yet immune to gossip.

it doesn't matter, rafe would know if his girl was close donning earplugs and a blindfold. her pathetic attempt at modesty is hardly an issue. much like how there isn't an inch of skin he hasn't traversed; there isn't a bluff of her's he can't immediately see through. no matter how soft or sudden, rafe can feel his girl teetering on the brink. 

the faint wobble of her bottom lip might as well be a formal declaration; she's trying and failing to keep herself from falling over the edge — the polite little thing knows the price of gluttony.

as he reclines in the stately patio chair, he pulls her down with him. in anticipation, rafe tips his mouth and angles his hips while relishing in the spoiled musings of a person who's never wanted for anything.

rafe relents, mercifully rutting into her as his thumb rubs a certain finger. 

"sooner or later, i'm putting a ring on this hand." 

giggling despite herself, she abruptly leans back to inspect his pupils.

"how high are you?" 

the friction of shifting pressure reluctantly betrays a soft spot in his chainmail cloak. the levity of the moment envelops them in warmth. a brilliant rarity peeks through between the velvety curtain of annoyance: contentment. 

even so, rafe doesn't allow the foreign state of mind or the white-hot burn of pleasure to distract him from his prior ambition. 

"kid, if i was high right now, we'd be halfway to the courthouse." 

she simply shakes her head and buries her face back into the crook of his neck.

rafe has an affinity for grandstanding. she hardly, if ever, took him at his word, simultaneously too smart and too skeptical to make his words into something more than he meant. sometimes, he said things because he needed to know how they tasted, and others, her on-again-off-again boyfriend just wanted to hear the sound of his own voice.

he is impulsive and unreliable, and no amount of love will change that.

rafe relinquishes her wrists in favor of her neck. his palm burns the nape as it keeps her a prisoner to his greedy, electric gaze.

the dull throb mounting under his touch cannot hold a candle to the heartbeat palpitating between her thighs. major and minor, the muscles twitch in anticipation as they, too, are overwhelmed by the casual display of dominance. 

he brings her forehead to rest against his. a novel softness in his voice fans across her gently parted lips. "i know you think i'm bullshitting you, but not this time. i'm so fucking serious, kid. the proof's at home in the top right drawer of my desk."

her disbelief persists, manifesting in an uncouth snort. 

"yeah, right." 

rafe scoffs at the sarcasm-dipped quip; the unwavering effort to make his life more difficult at every turn was actually sort of endearing, he hated to admit. 

"i've had it since our graduation... just never found the right moment, i guess," he shrugs, quieter now.

rafe knows a smidge of feigned ambivalence won't detract from the heated, earnest implication beaming behind his irises. 

the claim is substantiated by her quirked-brow baiting, an act that leaves him frantically fishing for his keys.

if they’re lucky, they might make it to the driveway. 

but the stars underestimate the proprietorial hunger of the kook prince, because they get three lights from the club before rafe parks the ford by the roadside. 

────────────

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

⬸ back to the catalog  (masterlist) 

⬸ back to the main blog 

[bbyseok]

today, tonight, tomorrow

pairing: dabi/todoroki touya x reader

cw: touya just needs some love, redeemed dabi au, pro hero reader, gender neutral reader but dabi does call reader pet names like “doll” and “gorgeous” here, housewife dabi if you squint, some swearing, i go into detail way too much but he makes me soft, suggestiveness from dabi obviously, tiny bit of angst if you squint again, but overall mostly fluff

analysis: despite his troubled past and what it holds over his head, you show touya that he has a future with you. that he has today, tonight, and tomorrow.

a/n: a gift for my bestie <3

———

touya isn’t used to going outside in broad daylight. frankly, he doesn’t like it either. he doesn’t like going out at all, actually.

eyes that cast sharp glances at him, whether accusatory or simply curious, whether they knew of his past deeds or were simply taking in his appearance—it’s something he decided he’d do his best to avoid.

and when he does venture out into the outside world that was not your living room, he likes to adorn hoodies or long sleeved shirts. he stays rather close to your side, hand grasping yours or lingering over your shoulder. he tends to whisper into your ear lowly when he wants to tell you something. you might even get a kiss or two on your cheek—but he limits the amount of attention you two might attract when out in public.

touya is just like that.

but you wouldn’t have it any other way. it’s what makes touya, touya obviously. his preferences and details are the things that you adore. simply because you aren’t too sure of the last time someone’s been so.. considerate for him.

so you buy oversized hoodies for him to fit into, you hold his hand a little tighter than you need to for subtle reassurance, you tilt your head his way when you see him lean in. you sneak in your own kiss after his lips brush your cheek delicately, satisfied with the slight crinkle of his eyes that show when he smiles a small smile at your action. it’s the little things.

you’re okay with the little things. but sometimes, you wanna make sure that he knows. that he knows that you’re okay with everything, that he’s cherished, that he has a place with you.

touya doesn’t like going outside. but you think you can come up with something.

————

your career as a pro hero means long days and nights. either tough hours out in the field not knowing what danger you could be going in, or even tougher hours of drilling through mountains of paperwork.

you’re grateful that you can be a pro hero, of course—but weekends? oh, weekends are paradise.

it’s a late morning. the dainty sunlight coming in through the window is growing steadily but it’s fine—weekends meant sleeping in. scarred knuckles caress the round of your cheek. right. weekends also meant sleeping in with your white-haired boyfriend. (did i say weekends are paradise? scratch that, i meant heaven.)

you open your eyes the tiniest bit to find him propped up against the pillows on the headboard, his knuckles still against your skin as he watches you rise from your slumber. normally, you’d tease him for being a creep, but you can see the subtle awe in his features.

“i’m not dreaming, am i?” he mumbles to himself. like he doesn’t believe you’re real.

your heart swells and you lazily open your eyes all the way, meeting his soft gaze. “good morning to you too, love.” the words aren’t above a whisper, trying not to startle him.

his hand stutters against your face anyway, and he blinks in temporary surprise. he seems a little embarrassed that you heard him but he brushes it off easily.

you shift and a small shiver runs down your spine at the sound of touya’s voice. “good morning, gorgeous.” it’s rough on a daily basis, but in the morning? it’s almost enough to make you stay in bed during your workdays.

you reach up and grab his hand still tracing figures over your cheek, brushing your lips against the rough skin there. “breakfast?” you propose, trying to stifle your giggles as he shifts back down to lay with you.

“later,” he huffs, turning and cradling you close as he buries his nose into your neck. his hair tickles your chin but you don’t really mind.

like this, you let touya know he has today with you.

————

after a long, grueling day of hero work, seeing a certain blue-eyed man standing at the kitchen counter with the takeout you asked him to order during the way home, you’re pretty sure you’d be happy to have such a sight every day.

(he can’t cook for shit—he’s also not allowed to cook. he had tried being funny one time when you were actually trying to conceive a meal.. and ended up almost exploding the stove and burning the entire kitchen down. there’s an unestablished rule of ordering takeout when it’s his turn to bring food to the table ever since.)

“touya,” you hum in greeting, instinctively grinning once you meet his cobalt gaze. he’s already heading around the kitchen counter towards you with a grin that can match you own plastered onto his face.

you had showered and changed back into your civvies at your agency—with the recent chill in the air, you have to start bringing heavy jackets or coats out now to work. before you can shrug it off though, his rough hands are doing it for you. he presses a kiss on your forehead, murmuring a, “welcome home, doll,” against the skin there.

you sigh. it’s definitely a welcomed contrast from the your labor of the day—hero work by no means is an easy and smooth job. but touya softens the day with his tender touches. your coat slips off your shoulders and he throws it over the back of one of the dining table chairs before he’s dragging you to the kitchen.

“was about to call you, y’know,” he informs in an amused huff, teasing and all, but you’re not really listening. his fingers feel really nice in yours. “you were taking too long to get home. i might’ve eaten all the food by myself.”

when he sits you down at one of the stools, you answer as you rummage through the small selection of food, “you probably should, you scrawny ass.” (you’re kidding. mostly.)

he throws a napkin at you.

as you break out into a fit of giggles and apologies, you’re unaware of the fond smile he throws you. before you dig into your meal, you clear your throat and glance at him. “but really, how was your day, love? did the takeout dude give you any trouble?” (it doesn’t happen too often nowadays, where the person delivering food gives your boyfriend a hard time. but when it does, you’re sure to give the manager an earful.)

“my day was fine,” touya hums in response, also beginning to eat. “real boring without you, doll. as per usual.” he then quirks a brow at you, a hint of a smirk toying at his lips. “i definitely could be doing more fun things with you around.”

you can feel your cheeks heat up and you nearly choke—even though you should be used to his innuendos, you’re not. still, you see it fit to deadpan him once you swallow down your bite. (you’re trying to eat, dammit!) “you did not just say that while i’m shoving food into my mouth.”

he snorts loudly at that and when he opens his mouth to say something, most definitely another innuendo sprouting from your words, it’s your turn to throw a napkin at him.

this time, he laughs. (people laugh—it’s a normal thing part of life. but when touya laughs? it’s special, because usually you’re the only one who gets to hear it.) “alright, alright, doll,” he relents, chuckling roughly, “‘m eating.”

you huff in amusement. “you better, you twig.”

he lunges for you and you scream, unable to escape his grasp as his slender fingers dig into your sides in a sudden attack of tickling. his raspy tone takes on another delighted laugh and dinner is almost forgotten. (it might’ve been because the tickling led to a makeout session, but dinner is almost forgotten all the same.)

like this, you let touya know he has tonight with you.

————

you wake touya in the dead of night.

he’s all low grumbles and mutters as you stir him from his slumber. “touya, love,” you coo at him, brushing the white tufts of hair from his drooping, barely open eyes, “i wanna show you something.”

he peels an eye open to peer at you, albeit sleepily. “yeah?” he shifts, fumbling for one of your phones that had ended up on one side of the bed. when he checks the time, he grunts and stares at you with a questioning look. “you wanna show me something?” he pauses and double checks. “..at 2 am?”

when he sees you nod seriously, he blinks. “fine.”

after making sure both you and him are bundled up—it’s cold out there—you lead him outside and into the car. it’s not a long drive, and he surprisingly doesn’t ask too many questions along the way.

you pull into the parking lot and it’s no doubt that you’re in a park—there’s fields, a bike trail or two on the side, and a playground set not too far off in the distance. still, you pester him to be patient once you’re out of the car.

“y’know, i’ve done my fair share of shady things in my life, doll, but i didn’t think i’d be this much of an influence on you,” he snickers as you grab his hand and start dragging him along one of the paths.

you roll your eyes and scoff but find yourself grinning at his comment. “oh, hush you. i’m no lawbreaker.”

touya clicks his tongue. “yet.”

your laughter carries out on the slight night breeze, and he thinks it’s perfect. he doesn’t know exactly where you’re leading him but if he gets to hear you laugh like that, he thinks you can lead him anywhere.

by the time you’re halfway up the trail, it’s cresting over a hill. nothing too small nor big, but once you reach the top, you can see the majority of the park. however, that’s not what you want him to look at.

“look, touya,” you breathe, puffs of air coming out before you because of how cold it is. “i came across this spot during one of my night shifts but.. the sky looks so nice from here. the stars are so pretty.”

he follows your gaze to see the night canvas. the stars are simply shimmering dots that wink down on you both, with the moon and its silver lighting completing the picture. and then he glances back at you.

“yeah,” he agrees softly, his fingers flexing in yours. “they are.”

touya doesn’t like going outside in broad daylight. but in the moonlight—its paleness engulfs you and you look as if you’re an ethereal being. like you hold the light of the world in your hands. and he thinks to himself, that maybe he can start liking going outside, if it means seeing the stars in your eyes.

like this, you let touya know he has tomorrow with you.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Congratulations on hitting 450!

Maybe you could do Tech x Jedi!Reader post Order 66?

I've recently been obsessed with all youre writing, youre doing GREAT!

-<3

Awww thank you anon! That's so sweet of you.

I hope you enjoy this little fic.

Love oo

Alone

Warnings: Order 66 mentions, deaths, loss, angst, fluff, comfort, I think that's it. If I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

The datapad gave off a faint glow as you looked at the list of wanted Jedi in the galaxy. There were so many that had been declared dead, even your name had a line through it. You were no longer a threat to the Empire, that is until they found out you were actually alive, and living with Tech and his brothers on Pabu. 

You let out an exhaustive breath, it was all gone. Everything you had grown up knowing. All your friends, family, people you looked up to. Gone. Tears pricked your eyes and you did your best to stifle a sob, the last thing you wanted to do was wake up Tech, but you’d failed.

He stirred and sat beside you putting on his glasses, “What is it?” his fingers played with your hair, hoping the action would calm you down enough to tell him what was wrong. However, he didn’t have to take too long to guess, as soon as he saw the datapad in your hand, he let out a sigh. 

He wanted to comfort you, to take away the sadness and pain, the loss you felt from that day. He slipped the datapad from your hand and placed it on the stand beside him. As he pulled you into his arms and leaned back into the mattress, he slipped off his goggles and placed them on top of the datapad, and then turned his attention back to you. He squeezed tighter as he kept you tucked into his side, kissing your temple and forehead.

“It’s okay.”

“They’re all gone. Everyone …” you stated as you tried to fight the sobs.

“Shhh … it’s okay. I know.” He pressed another kiss, “But you’re not, and I’m still here.” He held you tighter in his arms, tucking your head under his chin. “And obviously that list is faulty, so who knows how many truly survived.”

“Maybe we could try and find them.”

This was a point of contention between the two of you, you wanted to go out there and find other Jedi, track down every lead; and he could understand your desire, but for Tech that would put you needlessly in danger, and it never sat well with him. 

“No.”

“Tech!”

“Listen, cyare, I know you want to find your people. I understand, however … you’d be putting yourself in harm’s way, and you wouldn’t even know if it was worth it. If you’d even find the ones you’re looking for… no one is as important as you. I know I’m being selfish, however … I don’t want to lose you.”

You couldn’t really argue with him about that, you didn’t want to lose him either. You wanted to stay on this paradise island, and remain in his arms, but you couldn’t. 

“I know, and you are the most important one to me too, but … I need to do this. Alone if I have to, but … I need to know. I need to know I’m not the last one.”

Tech fought back the tears, he would gladly go with you, gladly stay by your side, but not if it meant you’d be putting yourself in harm’s way. He couldn’t handle seeing you in that vulnerable position again. It took everything within him to find you after Order 66, and when he did he thought the galaxy gave him one final gift knowing you were still alive and in his arms. But now … now you wanted to leave. 

“There’s nothing I can say that will change your mind, is there?”

You shook your head, staying tucked under his chin and holding him close. “I’m sorry. I love you, Tech. I do. However, I … there’s a calling deep within me that won’t rest until I know there’s at least one more Jedi out there. I … I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to have the weight of the Jedi order on my shoulders alone. I’ll stay in constant contact, and I’ll start looking for those who were already declared dead. I know some of them died on Coruscant, but there are others whose deaths were confirmed but their bodies were never found. I can start there. It’ll be safer, for now at least.”

“And what happens if you do find out you are the last?”

“Then I’ll come back to you.”

“I’ll come with you. I … I don’t want to be apart from you, and not being by your side and worrying will be worse.”

“Tech, you don’t have to, I know how much staying with your brothers and looking after Omega means to you…”

He shook his head, “No. They’re my family, but you’re my cyare. It was my duty to make sure Omega, Hunter, and Wrecker were safe. However, Echo already left to pursue his own sense of duty, it’s now my job to make sure you’re safe. We’ll tell everyone in the morning. Hunter can take us to a space port, where we can ‘borrow’ a ship.”

“I love you, Tech. Thank you.” You shifted and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you, too. But so help me if you die on me, I’ll bring you back just to yell at you.”

You laughed as you pressed your forehead against the side of his face, “Okay. You have my approval to bring me back from the dead and yell at me.”

“Good. Now go to sleep cyare. I’ll keep you safe.”’

“Thank you, Tech. I love you.”

“I know.”

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh, as though a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You didn’t know if this was a smart idea, but the force was telling you, you needed to look for those on the list, it was telling you to help. How could you say no to the force?

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[norel-ravenclaw]

hello!! :), i would like to request a live action nami x fem reader where they go skinny dipping together for the first time, thank u!

Skinny Dipping

Nami • One Piece

Fandom: One Piece Live Action (OPLA)

Featured character: Nami

Genre: Spicy romance

Rating: 18+

Word count: 1400

Description: Skinny dipping with Nami~

(I’ve only ever seen the live action One Piece, none of the anime or manga sorry!)

Obsessed with this, so thanks anon! Also this woman helped me accept that I’m gay so I’m thrilled to see her as Nami~

WARNINGS: | gender neutral reader | basically heavy kissing and petting |

From the other side of the beach, Nami and I stand exhausted yet wired as Luffy screams something about a pistol. And just like that, it’s all over. All around us, crates and driftwood blaze. A ship is sinking off shore, with pirates screeching and shouting blame.

Zoro marches off past us, muttering under his breath and not waiting another second to get back to the Going Merry. “Fuckin pirates.”

Nami’s hair is lightly smoking. “Hell, we need a vacation.”

Sanji follows after Zoro. “And a long, hot bath.”

I finally sheath my sword. “Yep.”

~~~

Back on the ship, we all help patch each other up and make an easy meal before going our separate ways to chill.

When Nami heads towards the railing to let down the gangplank, I call after her.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

Glancing over her shoulder, she gestures towards the island. “We passed by some tide pools earlier. They should be filled nicely now. Come join me.”

Aching everywhere but not wanting her to be alone on the island with survivors from Luffy’s latest (and rather ironic) dream-crushing escapade, I follow after her.

The blazing heat of the afternoon has died down some as we walk down the beach. Both too tired to say anything, I find myself glancing at her frequently, wondering how the graze wound on her shoulder is doing.

She doesn’t miss a thing as she gives me a side eye. “Either you’re trying to have a telepathic conversation with me or you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

“W-what?! No! I mean, no. I was just wandering how your shoulder is, that’s all.”

She shoots me a smirk. “Is that all?”

Blushing hard, I nod urgently. “Yeah.”

“Hm. Well that’s no fun.”

My step falters a bit in shock. I haven’t been on the crew for long, and have desperately tried to keep my infatuated crush on her a secret. So to have her flirting with me? Maybe?!

I clear my throat and catch up. “No? Then what kind of fun do you want?”

Reaching a line of boulders, she nimbly climbs up and looks back over her shoulder at me. The setting sun sets her ablaze in a phenomenal silhouette.

“Like I said.” My breath catches in my throat as she suddenly takes off her shirt. “Join me.”

My jaw is hanging slack as she drops the rest of her clothes on the rock and jumps into the water on the other side.

After a momentary mental reboot, I scramble up the rock, and am shocked by the tropical paradise awaiting beyond. A perfect ring of rock around a turquoise pool glittering in the sunset’s glow. Tropical plants and palm trees sway in the warm evening breeze. And in the water, Nami’s shock of fiery hair flows around her blissed out face as she swims, the water obscuring her bare form beneath.

“Well? Are you just going to stand there like a creep or are you gonna join me?”

“R-right. Coming!”

Trying not to overthink things (like being an idiot trying to make a show of getting naked for her) I pull off my clothes, quickly folding both our outfits so they’re easier to get into when wer’re done.

“Alright, um, coming in.” Taking a breath, I jump off into the pool.

The sudden sensation of the water enveloping me lasts only a moment before my aching muscles instantly thank me. I groan in relief at the feeling of the grime and sweat being swept away.

But then I remember that Nami is naked right next to me. IM naked right next to her. And my heart sets off racing again.

She laughs at my awkwardness and splashes some water at me. “Are ya just gonna sit there or what?”

I gasp at the sudden assault, and smirk back at her. “Oh you’ve done it now.”

Next thing we know, we’re engaged in a heated water fight, which ends with me cornered by some rocks as Nami boxes me in.

Once she’s too close for me to splash her anymore, I pull my hands back - but not before accidentally brushing her waist.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

But her eyes lock on me with a different kind of intensity. “No it’s okay.”

We stare at each other, panting a little from our game. The sun is sinking below the horizon now, leaving the most vibrant colour being her hair. …That beautiful hair sticking to her face and shoulders in sensual strands.

“You can do it again if you want.”

I can feel my face heating up. “…What?”

She moves closer, her legs brushing mine. “Like this.” I gasp as her hands go to my waist. I can’t stop myself from glancing at her lips, glistening with droplets of water.

The feel of her skin on mine under the water has my senses nearly overstimulated. “Nami…”

Her expression softens a little as she chuckles at me. “I’m telling you it’s okay. Go for it.”

There’s no holding back now. I reach out to touch her waist as well, misjudging due to the water’s altered perception - and end up grabbing onto her hips instead. I stare into her sharp blue eyes, watching every reaction as I caress her skin.

She puts her hands on my shoulders and suddenly leans in to kiss me. We part and come back again and again, trying new angles and exploring each other’s lips and tongues. I rub along her waist and back, sometimes teasing down her hips.

After she thrusts her tongue into my mouth, I grab her ass and pull her closer. The feeling of her nibbles brushing against my chest makes me gasp and moan out loud.

“Nami…” I dive in for more, attacking her neck and collarbones with kisses.

Using my shoulders for leverage, she moves to straddle one of my thighs, pressing herself against it. We both moan at the feeling, and I’m delighted that the new position lifts her out of the water enough for her small breasts to be exposed.

I lean in to kiss and gently suck at the gentle curve of her chest while she rubs herself against me. When she moans out my name, I can’t help but squeeze her ass. She reaches up to play with my nipple, but I quickly redirect her hand to her own breast. She moans appreciatively, pleasuring herself with more vigour.

We lose ourselves in the lazy yet frantic pleasure as the night settles around us. I kiss her until both our lips and her nipples are swollen.

Her moans become higher pitched as she gets closer, and I help guide her hips to keep up the rhythm of her grinding.

“That’s it. Cum all over my thigh.” I reach down to rub at her clit myself, and she whimpers urgently. Her hips buck against my hand until her whole body is wracked with undulating spasms.

I hold her waist securely as she rides out her high, finally dropping her head on top of my own.

“Damn, that was good,” she pants.

I rub her thigh comfortingly. “Yeah? You look like you’re in heaven.”

She moves down to meet my eye and kisses me again.

Just then, we hear voices from a distance.

“Damn, they’ll find us,” she complains. Looking back at me, I can see her expression twist a little in the moonlight. “You did’t get your turn.”

I smile at her and kiss the tip of her nose. “I’d do anything for you, you know. Use me for your pleasure anytime. It’s worth it to see you feeling so good.”

At this, she freezes a little, and I wonder if she’s blushing. “…Thanks.”

Happy to have gotten to see her shy, I chuckle. “Come on, let’s get dressed, milady.”

I help her up to the rocks (given that her thighs are still shaking) and hand her the clothes I’d folded earlier. We race to dress before Usopp’s voice is close enough that we can shout out a reply.

“Nami! Y/n! Where’d you guys go?”

“Yeah yeah, we’re coming! Don’t get yourself in a snit!”

I smirk at her annoyed tone, and again she looks at me a little bashfully. Fuck that’s adorable…

Hearing them getting closer, I reach over to help pull her shirt down over her stomach as she tugs her pants on.

Standing so close, she whispers, “So uh, anytime, you said?”

Unable to hold back my smile, I give her a quick kiss. “Any damn time at all.”

[sunnebeam]

and all the pieces fall.

A 'DARKEST LITTLE PARADISE' DRABBLE.

pairing: min yoongi x reader

warnings: fluff (the calm kind, not the tooth-rotting kind sadly), revelations, mentions of past car accident, mafia au (but no specific details in this particular drabble), other warnings withheld due to possible spoilers

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: would u look at that, no smut for once HAH anyways a lot of u guys seemed to like the first drabble (read that first if u haven't yet!) so here's an attempt at a continuation <3 please share your thoughts! feedback and reviews always keep me going ^^

— prev: in the darkest little paradise | next: everything just stops

The harbor at night shows the best view of the city.

It's tragic, really, how little you see of the city you live in. You only ever lingered in places near your apartment or near your work, and you no longer remember the area you grew up in as a child.

This unfamiliar side of the city — the side with skyrise buildings, bustling night life, and uptown streets — is wholly new to you.

"Are you cold?"

And amongst other things that are new...

"I'm fine," you answer as you feel his presence behind you. "Just enjoying the view."

A warm jacket is placed on your shoulders and you smile at the action. This is a side of Yoongi that's kind of new to you. You only ever spent time with each other in the bedroom, and there, he's always so dominating, so intense. It's nice to get to know this softer, caring side of Yoongi outside of sex.

Regardless, you pull the jacket tighter around you. You don't really feel cold but he decides to wrap you in his arms anyway, your back to his chest, as you both look out the harbor.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" he asks, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"I loved it," you affirm, soaking in the intimacy he's offering.

Yoongi's always commanding and rough in bed, but you aren't a stranger to his sweet kisses and affectionate touches during aftercare. Still, you always told yourself to keep your distance, to not get too attached, because at the end of the night, he's still a paying client.

Tonight, though, you allow yourself small luxuries.

"Good," he says, relieved, before whispering in your ear, "happy birthday, princess."

You smile, closing your eyes. This is the best birthday you've had in a while. You take a moment to soak in the feeling, but after about a few minutes, you know you can't avoid it any longer.

You need answers.

"Yoongi?"

"Mm?"

You feel his lips on your neck.

"How did you know my birthday?"

He plants a chaste kiss on your neck.

"Does it matter how I know?" he asks.

"It matters to me."

He pauses and contemplates before his lips reach your ear.

"What would you do if I said it was a lucky guess?"

You shiver at his voice, then you open your eyes.

"I would say you're a liar," you eventually say, "and then I'd ask you how you know about my allergy."

You're referring to the incident earlier when Yoongi ordered a dish that was supposed to have certain ingredients in it that you're allergic to, but he was quick to tell the staff to remove them before you could even say anything.

"Then I would say you're too sharp for your own good," he concludes, sighing.

You blink in confusion, before pulling out of his embrace to turn around and look at him properly. He looks back at you with a forlorn expression.

"You really don't remember, princess?"

"Remember what, Yoongi?"

"Think for a minute. Please." His voice starts to become frantic. "Don't you remember anything at all? Anything?"

"Yoongi, I don't—"

"You have to remember." His voice is getting louder, desperation lacing his features. "Try and think back to eight years ago. Try and think back to before the accident."

Accident? How could he have known about that?

Around eight or so years ago, you got into a pretty bad car accident which led you to lose your memories. The doctors hoped it was just temporary but unfortunately, you current memory only dates back to when you woke up at the hospital to see your mother's distraught face. Anything before the accident was a complete blank.

It's a sensitive topic for you so you never really told anyone. No one else of importance needed to know, anyway. The only one who knew was your mother and she's already passed.

So how the fuck does Yoongi know?

"Yoongi, you're not making any sense," you tell him, tears starting to pool in the corners of your eyes. "You're scaring me."

"No, no, don't be scared." He cups your cheeks and plants a small, reassuring kiss on your lips. "I'm sorry. I just... really want you to remember on your own..."

"Remember what?" you ask him for the second time. "What do I need to remember, Yoongi? And how the fuck do you know about my accident?"

Your voice is getting louder, your tears finally falling. You have half the mind to be more quiet but the way he is talking to you (or not talking to you) is getting on your nerves.

He clearly knows something. And since it very clearly involves you, you deserve to know everything.

Yoongi stares at you for what seems like a long time, debating whether or not to finally give you the answers you're seeking.

In the end, he decides to tell you the truth.

"Princess..." he starts slowly, "your accident..."

And all the pieces fall—

"I know about it because," he continues, "I was the reason behind it."

—right into place.

He then tells you all you deserve to know – that you've been in love since you were teenagers, that some rival gang orchestrated your accident eight years ago in an attempt to spite him, that you lost all your memories because of it, and that your mother convinced him to leave you to keep you safe.

It wasn't easy leaving you, but with you losing your memories and with his risky line of work, he eventually backed off, thinking you were better off with a fresh, blank start.

But when he saw you again at the city's red district about a year ago, he couldn't resist his longing anymore. He had to have you again in any way he could have you. Even if it meant you didn't remember. Even if it meant he was a stranger to you.

And even if it meant you didn't love him anymore.

COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[setsugekka]

『paradise lost』 ; 05

❝ pull the trigger ❞

↳ during one lazy day around the loft, hongjoong brings something new and exciting to the table: a very special guest star, trusted and provided with ease.

the problem? well, you don’t think there is one—until you meet the man himself, hongjoong’s best friend since college and trouble personified—jung wooyoung.

⎯ ୨previous୧ ⎯  ○  ⎯ ୨series mlist୧ ⎯ ○ ⎯ ୨next୧ ⎯

『 pairing 』 : jung wooyoung x fem!reader, kim hongjoong x fem!reader x jung wooyoung

『 genre 』 : romance, explicit sexual content.

『 rating 』 : mature

『 word count 』 : 14.6k

『 warnings 』 : sexually explicit content: m/f/m threesome!! men touching and kissing too, penetrative sex (protected & not), oral sex (m+f), wooyoung is a huge tease (w/ a huge cock), dirty talking and heavy flirting, cat & mouse games, mc wants wooyoung and he won’t let her have him.

If you were honest — things with Hongjoong had become comfortably routine.

A few months now after the fated trip to Japan, the two of you had settled into what could only be described by any onlooker as delightfully domestic. Unsure of how exactly it had come about, more and more of your belongings had started finding their ways into Hongjoong's loft without ever really finding their way back out of it. Nights or weekends spent at your best friends place quickly found to be turning into weeks at a time — neither of you acknowledged it with any verbal telling.

You acknowledged it by never taking your things home. Hongjoong acknowledged it by bringing more dressers and clothing racks for your items.

Legally, you didn't live there. Figuratively might be a different story, however.

The nights spent apart became fewer and further between, along with the ones spent without Hongjoong between your knees.

Even still, with the man comfortably lodged between your legs even now — it's nothing sexual: carefully balancing a plate of cheese and crackers on your stomach as he picks at it, completely spaced out aside from his attention on the film before you, looking down at him calms you — a sense of serenity you've realized that you never had found in another person. Not really. Not like this.

Whatever this was.

Lazily bringing your hand down and atop his head, fingernails grazing over his scalp and the shortened hair beneath — now adorning similarly cut hair from Japan but of a dark blue color — it pulls his attention, albeit briefly, and you can tell from the gleam in his eye precisely why it does.

Hongjoong looks up at you from over the plate, grinning just before stuffing another slice of cheese into his mouth, “Are you trying to start something?”

You weren't really. You weren't against it, but it wasn't necessarily the intention, even though you knew that it would be taken as such by him.

Shifting along the couch and propping your shoulders up on the ends of the red piece of furniture, Hongjoong reaches out in an attempt to not spill crackers all over his new, white, faux fur rug as you suddenly shift in place beneath the both of them. Meeting eyes, he squints — as if trying to read your mind from the place he remains, nestled between your legs.

“Boring you already?” he says, placing the plate onto the table just beside you and bringing his hands up and underneath your sweatshirt. The feeling of his soft hands never failing to send chills up your spine, if it weren't an asinine question to begin with then this action would have certainly served as a reminder.

“Of course not, what?” you answer back quickly, trying to play it cool as if not completely melting beneath his rather benign touch. “Because I'm not jumping you every second of the day?” you add, breath hitching at the very particular press of a finger tip into the underside of one of your breasts — his eyes still glued to your face to gauge your response.

He takes pause before replying again, watching the way that your body betrays you in a way. You know that he's enjoying the foreplay, even before it's really foreplay; the way your skin raises under his touch and breath shifts, eyes fluttering and pulling away from his strong gaze — you say that you don't want him, and that may have been true in the moment, but you and him both know that that is subject to change at a moment’s notice, and he holds all of the power in doing so.

And thank fuck for that, you often think to yourself.

Hongjoong pushes your sweatshirt up and off of your tummy — only exposing a bit of the skin around your belly button and pulls himself up the length of your legs just enough to grant himself the ability to press his lips to the skin there — light kisses peppering your abdomen and you hate the way that he has you liquefying under his touch each and every time. Well, you don't hate it, but you wish you could at least make it a little less obvious how easy it was sometimes.

Soft hands reaching back down and around your waist, snaking ever so slightly up your back, he stills and looks up at you from beneath long eyelashes — lips still delicately attached to your skin, as if speaking directly to it there.

“What's something new you'd like to do?”

The question is a little confusing in the moment because there isn't much that the two of you haven't done by now. A handful of items still on the bucket list, sure, but your sex life together was still new and budding and well within the throes of the honeymoon period — frankly, you found it a little bizarre for him to be asking how to spice it up already. That is, until:

“Something you desire,” he adds, pressing lips firmer to your skin again and all the while his eyes remaining locked on yours. “Someone else? A guest?”

The way it drops from Hongjoong's lips is sinful and sounds almost as if it had been something he had rehearsed before. The sexiest way to ask about adding another person into the bedroom without entirely putting the other off; obviously, an impossible task to have 100% success with, but the man was nothing if not crafty...if not sexy.

He certainly managed it.

You swallow hard in response to the question and you watch the way he studies your face intently, trying to pick up on any and all nuance to the way that you feel as a result before your verbal response. A wise choice, given the incredible lack of actual, thorough communication between the two of you.

Sometimes you worry how much worse the both of you would be if not for the innate ability to simply understand.

Suppose that you don't respond fast enough, Hongjoong quickly scrambling to pick himself up and off of you and in a shaky haze of insecurity that you're not sure that you have ever really seen present on him before, an attempt to explain away what it was that he had just presented to you.

But you don't need him to explain it away, you need him to explain it more.

“Joong,” you finally interrupt his onslaught of cautious wavering and constant apologizing. Your voice steady and calm in such a way that you can tell it catches him off guard. “It's okay.”

“I just figured since you're having sex with other people still—“

The singular use of the word “you” not lost on you in the moment, and absolutely a slip of the tongue on Hongjoong's part. You find it sort of charming the way that his tough, calculated exterior continues to fall by the wayside the longer the both of you remain involved with one another on...whatever level that it is that you're involved in.

“Yeah, and it is fine,” you reply, grabbing one of his flailing arms and pulling him back down and against you on the couch, “Just...surprised. It's not every day the guy I'm having sex with asks me if I want to have sex with someone else with him.”

You pause for a moment, realizing that he had never actually stated the terms and conditions of such a thing, and turning your head towards him — now face to face with you and wedged between you and the back of the couch, he quickly settles back into his mischievous self, smirking at you while he watches the wheels turn in your head at the possible implications.

“...With you, right?” you add, unsure in tone. Hongjoong continues watching you with one corner of his mouth starkly upturned. Devilish.

“Well,” he starts with a sigh, flinging his free arm over your chest and twirling free strands of your hair around his fingers. “History tells me that you don't need my help fucking other people without me so not sure why you'd need me for that, darling.”

In moments like these, you find it completely indiscernible just how much your romp with Yunho truly stuck with Hongjoong. Through all of the playful jabs and coy remarks, you can only assume that in these moments where he feels as though he has no choice but to comment on it, that it comes deep from a place that you find entirely dark and unfamiliar: a place of genuine, unforeseen, and wickedly unsettled hurt.

Like a pot reaching a boiling over point, trying to release the pressure of holding it in without really losing control. Kim Hongjoong was calm, collected, and quite possibly entirely damaged in his own right.

But aren't we all.

Elbowing him in response, he leans in towards you again, pressing a few light kisses to your jaw — the only place in which he can reach in the moment and at the angle at which he lie, fingers still wrapping in your hair, and it's so easy to melt into him each and every time.

“Yes, with me,” he makes clear finally, his breath hot against the skin of your face, and you're unsure if this moment is being treated as foreplay — the way he's touching and talking to you — the erection against your thigh saying one thing, but if you're honest, Hongjoong is just about insatiable in that aspect, not necessarily indicative of anything in particular except for being in your presence and having the ability to have his hands on you. “If you'd like, we don't have to.”

And you can tell from his voice that he means it. That Hongjoong is bringing this up because he thinks that it might actually be genuinely fun — not even particularly for him, but more so for you. A man that exudes comfort and safety, you know that you have the ability to say 'no' to this without there being an adverse reaction, that Hongjoong will carry on as though nothing ever happened.

You wonder if deep down, the part of him that finds itself chronically hurt by your intimacy with Yunho actually hopes for your decline of the offer: a part of him but a slave to a man too proud to succumb to it.

Unfortunately, you're not yet strong enough not to take the bait, as it were.

You bring a hand back up and into his hair again, nails digging into his scalp with just the right intensity that you know the sensation goes straight to his dick — you figure that he's already using the conversation as foreplay so what's playing along a little bit?

“How do we go about finding someone for this little endeavor? I've done threesomes before but, I was the extra not the coup—“

You pause before finishing the word, realizing exactly what it was that you were about to say. For all intents and purposes, you know that the verbiage is correct, and doesn't necessarily imply anything particularly deep.

But it's still a lot in the moment. “You know, I was the guest.”

If Hongjoong notices then he ignores it, which you're thankful for as he carries on in spite of it. “You've done a threesome before? Wow...look at you!” before playfully slapping your arm in shock.

“Yes, I had a sex life before you, Joong, imagine that.”

“Hardly,” he devilishly responds, “and you likely won't have much of one after me.”

You hate that that feels sort of correct thus far.

Hongjoong presses another few kisses to your jaw before grinding what is now quite the prominent hardness of his dick against your leg, as if insinuating that he's more than ready for this particular bit of the conversation to be over — driven home by his free hand slinking down the length of your body and deft fingers gently beginning to play with the button at the front of your jeans.

“I actually know a guy who might be a good fit,” he says against your skin, voice lowered and quite evidently laden with desire for you. “He's kind of annoying, though.”

You chuckle at the end of his sentence, pulling back slightly to look down at him before he allows himself to truly get carried away in the moment. “Why would you write a recommendation for someone that you also refer to as annoying?” you ask.

You feel Hongjoong finally pry the button on your pants loose — it's time to hurry the end of this conversation along, for both of your sake.

“He's just particular, a little eccentric,” Hongjoong states, the feeling of his burning fingertips grazing against the skin of your stomach and slowly disappearing into the band of your underpants. “He would be a good fit, though. I've known him for years, he's done this before, too.”

You're barely listening at this point, hardly caring about anything having to do with Hongjoong's weird friend with the way that his hand effortlessly glides down and against your skin, breath heavy and humid on your jaw and neck.

“You'll have to court him.”

Eyes snapping open, it's not the idea of courting a man that has you appalled or anything, you're more than willing to do that, but you wonder why it is that Hongjoong thinks a guy like this would be a good addition to the current sexual arrangement, aside from just having had experience in the matter.

But when his middle finger sinks down just a bit further, the attention to detail washes away just as quickly as it had come to you.

In a few gentle circles of his fingertip, Hongjoong's lips attach to your neck, and you're absolutely no longer interested in participating in the conversation any further tonight, but you figure it's only polite to wrap it up properly.

“Fine,” you whisper, voice catching in your throat ever so slightly. “What's his name?”

“Jung Wooyoung.”

Calling the whole thing bizarre may have been an understatement.

Smoothing your palms over the sides of your long, fitted black dress — you find it a bit cute how dressed you are, all things considered: it was a date in which you're meant to be seducing someone, and yet you opt for a garment in which little skin is shown. A deep inhale while looking at your reflection in the mirror — your mild discomfort is present in your choice of dress. Uncertainty. Wanting to take a step forward but not feeling bold nor confident enough with it all to really go all out, or tits out, for that matter.

And adding to it all; stepping out of the large bathroom of Hongjoong's loft dressed and ready to go on a date with another man — a date that he set up for you.

But he was not accompanying you, you were on your own tonight. Straight into the lion's den, as it were.

Canvases and oil paints sprawled all across the hard floor of your now seemingly shared place, the juxtaposition of how the both of you were intending to spend your nights makes you chuckle under your breath: Hongjoong looking a bit like someone’s kid son playing arts and crafts while the adults go out to play. Looking up, his eyes wash over your figure and it brings a heated flush to your cheeks, once again nervously palming over your dress to smooth out wrinkles that were never there to begin with.

“Wow,” he exclaims, muffled and with a paint brush between his teeth before pulling it out to continue his thought. “You look amazing.”

“Are you sure you shouldn't come?” you ask again. It's only the third time since he had told you about the date two days ago.

But he shakes his head, “Nah, it's better like this. It'll feel like I'm chaperoning or something. You guys don't need me there.”

An interesting choice of words. You find the entire thing a little incomprehensible, but intriguing nonetheless.

Hongjoong taps the front of his phone to illuminate it, checking the time. “You should go, don't wanna be late.”

“He doesn't like it?” you reply in a sort of mocking tone, but he only looks at you gently and with a nod.

“Your friend sounds like he might be more trouble than he's worth,” you sigh, grabbing your purse and heels and heading towards the front door. “I cannot for the life of me imagine why you insist on this guy.”

“I've known Wooyoung for a long time,” Hongjoong says confidently, dabbing blue paint onto a glass palette as you slip your shoes onto your feet. “He's definitely trouble but it's worth it.”

The sentence feels more telling than perhaps was meant. Have they...done this sort of thing together before? Perhaps a conversation for another night if you're not to be late.

“I trust him,” Hongjoong says suddenly and after you think the topic of conversation has ended. “Yes, he's annoying and there will absolutely be moments tonight where you think it's not worth it but I wouldn't suggest him if I didn't think it was the best for us.”

Us.

Hand pushing open the large doors to the apartment, you begin to exit before one thought suddenly comes to mind. You consider letting it go, not bringing it up at all...but maybe you should.

After all, in situations like this, full transparency is key.

“Should I, uh—“ you begin nervously, Hongjoong's head snapping up from what he had been doing after catching it in your tone, but his eyes on you only causing your resolve to waver more. “Should I...might I...not be coming back here tonight?”

Incredibly awkward, asking the man that you're sleeping with primarily if you should be prepared to spend the night with the other man he has set you up on a date with tonight.

But Hongjoong only laughs, gently shaking his head. “No, don't worry about that. He's not going to fuck you tonight, I'll see you later.”

And for whatever reason, you find that all the more bizarre than the alternative.

In the car ride over, your mind races a million miles a minute. Thoughts of anticipation and nervousness and even guilt, much to your surprise. It's not as if you couldn't, or shouldn't be seeing another man — in fact, you have seen other men since the beginning of your involvement with your best friend, but something about this particular night, this particular scenario, brings twists and turns to your stomach that you hadn't yet experienced. Perhaps it was Hongjoong's involvement in the entire thing: the full disclosure and complete facilitation in the night’s events that brought a bit of a chilled sweat to your neck.

Perhaps it was the fact that he was seemingly completely unmoved, too.

Not that there would ever be a scenario in which you belonged to Hongjoong, if for all intents and purposes the idea of a relationship were to echo the concept, then him sending you off on a date with another man — a man you're intended to court, then one could only assume that perhaps Hongjoong had no interest in you belonging to him at all.

Maybe you were getting the read wrong all of this time. Maybe what the both of you had really was just...a friendship.

Or maybe his sending you off and facilitating the meeting was his idea of flexing a sort of control over the situation — something he lacked with your rendezvous with Yunho. A situation completely out of his hands, no say in the matter any which way.

Maybe he was doing what he felt like he had to in order to keep you around: an assumption that perhaps you will never be fully content in having only him.

And when the car stops in front of the lavish restaurant, you think for a moment that so does the beat of your heart, if only for a split second. Driver exiting the vehicle and opening the back door for you, you slowly climb out and thank him for his time before coyly stepping up and towards the large glass doors. A swanky, high-rise sort of establishment where only the most elite spend time — you feel entirely out of place. You don't look it, and you're thankful for that, but you certainly do feel it, and on the elevator ride to the very top floor — thirty-two — when the metal casing of your demise dings and the doors slide open, you're met with casual, jazz music and low lights from the ceiling.

The setting is certainly apt, you think to yourself, holding your head higher in an attempt to feign confidence, heels clicking on the freshly waxed black tile flooring towards the hostess.

“Hello, I'm here to meet someone?”

The woman smiles brightly towards you, “Sure, their name?”

“She's with me,” a voice calls out from behind the woman, and it feels like it happens in slow motion, the entire scene before you.

Black marble bar only a few feet behind the woman at the desk, you suppose the man now turning and heading toward you had been waiting and listening in on the exchange. You watch him as he faces you — bleached blonde hair slicked back and off of his forehead, save for a strand that you think he might have placed there on purpose for effect, sides shaved to perfection as if he sees his barber everyday — it reminds you of Yunho but in the opposite way, where Yunho cared far less about his appearance in such a meticulous way, it became quite evident to you immediately upon laying eyes on the man that he was quite the opposite, indeed.

Perfectly pressed black slacks, black dress shoes that looked as if they had never even set foot outdoors once, and the fitted, silky, navy blue button down that you were now quite sure had buttons ignored further down the sternum of his chest — you didn't even know him, but you found it difficult to pry your eyes away from the exact place that you were sure he wanted them to land.

All adorned with a black blazer, not a piece of fuzz nor a hair out of place on it, and two beautifully placed freckles on his face — one just under his eye, and the other humorously and distractedly placed just on his bottom lip.

He was good looking. Incredibly so. You silently swore to Hongjoong for being kind of right about this whole thing after all.

“Ah, of course, are you ready to be seated then?” the hostess asks him, and he glances to you for approval. You nod hurriedly, and he grins in response to your eagerness. It's sort of sly already and you're surprised that you not only catch it, but that he sends it out.

The two of you have only met seconds ago...although, suppose the both of you know why it is that you're meeting here tonight.

After having been seated, Wooyoung orders drinks for the table, along with a couple of appetizers for you to pick at over conversation, and once they arrive, the two of you finally settle in.

It feels like a job interview, you think to yourself. Except for some reason, the potential employee is the one conducting the whole thing.

The truth is that Jung Wooyoung radiates the type of slick, cool, collected energy that often makes people nervous without trying. A man wildly confident and with every reason to be, you find him intriguing and sexy already and he's barely even done anything.

You also find him to be a little terrifying.

Wooyoung sits back in his chair, watching you intently as you do the same towards him, only with much stiffer body language. He chuckles under his breath suddenly and with a grin — leaning forward and pressing an elbow into the table — a sort of rude gesture for such an expensive restaurant, but nothing about the man gives off an air that he were ever to be the one to give a damn about what the strangers around him were thinking of him.

“Are you nervous?” he finally asks, chin placed into his palm as he eyes you.

“Umm, a little bit, yeah, I guess so.”

“Do I make you nervous?” he amends his question, this time with one of the corners of his mouth curling upwards.

“I think the whole situation makes me a little nervous.”

That's the truth.

“Because of Joong?” he asks suddenly, and you quickly respond with a “no.”

You're actually not entirely sure if that one's the truth.

You quickly realize over dinner that the problem with Wooyoung is that he is painfully sexy. Your eyes continuously trailing down the opening of his button down, even when you're trying not to — but it's something about his allure that you find captivating in ways that you find unfamiliar and a little bit dangerous. A man that is obviously rich, just like so many of the other men you find yourself involved with — it's not difficult to stumble into the bedrooms of rich men. Hongjoong has money, Yunho has money, but it's something about the way that Wooyoung in particular carries himself that comes off as particularly untouchable — high class and expensive, as if directly pulled out of a Saks Fifth Avenue, or an episode of Sex and the City, it's the type of man that you would never typically even go for — partially because you cannot fathom what you would ever have in common with a guy like this.

Suppose that doesn't matter now, though.

The allure of the self-important, rich guy that you never saw before; you hated the way you desired him based off of next to nothing. Yes, he was funny, and yes, he was wickedly charming — but men like that were everywhere.

It was something particular to him.

You recalled in that moment, Hongjoong insisting that Wooyoung would make it worth it. You hadn't put much thought into what it was that he meant by that exactly until now.

And now, you really want to know.

After the both of you finish eating, Wooyoung leads you to the bar to sit next to one another and continue the consultation process, as it were. You found it impossible not to notice the way so many of the women — and even some of the men — stopped to look at him anywhere he went.

How could one man be this desirable? You wished you could have been the outlier.

Sitting down, the man next to you wastes no time splaying a palm on your thigh. It's gentle and without intent — well, not outwardly sexual intent. There's certainly intent, made evident by the way his eyes narrow sinfully.

“What do you want?” he says, leaning towards you as he whispers it into your ear as to be heard over the music.

The question, paired with the delivery, sends a chill down your spine. You wish you were stronger, and having never been one for one night stands, you wish you were still wanting to remain as such.

But you wanted him, the question only serving as a fast track for your mind to imagine him bending you over the sink in the single use bathroom.

And it's as if he can see into it, fingers ever so gently digging into the flesh of your thigh at the very same time, only to quickly remove himself from you entirely and call out towards the bartender.

This was humiliating. Surely Hongjoong did not know what he was doing...right?

You had to change the trajectory of the night before things got wildly out of control, and fast.

Clearing your throat, you straightened yourself up on the seat as the man next to you finishes ordering another round. Hands once again nervously smoothing over your dress in the spot that Wooyoung had just been in an attempt to wipe away the lingering feeling of him digging into your flesh — even through cloth.

“So,” you begin your re-calibration, “what do you do?”

Wooyoung smiles at the question, leaning back a bit and against his palm once again. “Hongjoong didn't tell you anything about me?”

You figure it might not be in either of your best interest to inform the man that he had been described as “weird” or “annoying,” so you opt out of both. “No, not really. Just said you would be a good—“

You pause, unsure of what the fuck you're saying, exactly.

Wooyoung's eyebrows raise in surprise, head cocking to the side only a bit as if what it was that you had said truly piqued his interest all of a sudden. Of course it did. It was the first time either of you had really addressed the elephant in the room in any way, shape, or form.

Even by accident.

The bartender comes back around to set each drink on the bar before scurrying off to the other side to tend to more patrons — you thank him, Wooyoung still eyeing you much too intently to pry himself away long enough to do the thanking himself.

“A good fit?” he finishes, reaching down and towards his drink and slowly bringing it up to smiling lips, but not before dropping the bombshell of the night that, while certainly and completely unprepared for, you're not sure there ever would have been a time where you were capable of handling it any better.

Rim of the martini glass ever so delicately pressed to his bottom lip — just against the very same birthmark that you can't help but glue eyes to.

“We'll have to test that out then, won't we?”

Thankful that you hadn't yet taken a sip of your drink, the way in which Wooyoung just casually remarks about the physical, literal fit of things makes you sputter — dizzying at the implications of the words. Trying to play it cool, you fake laugh at the words, despite not finding anything about what he had said humorous in the slightest.

You actually found him to be a bit of a terrorist. Did he just imply...the size of his dick to you?

And tonally, you know it to be the case. The ever so slight twist of his lips as he says it and the way he chooses not to make eye contact — as if pretending to not know exactly what it is that he's doing. But he does know, and he knows that you know, as well.

Jung Wooyoung is evil. Pure evil.

And you remember Hongjoong insisting that you weren't going to get fucked tonight, at least not by this man, but all of the signs certainly are pointing to quite the opposite.

But along your best friend's insistence, the boundaries of such an endeavor never really did get discussed. This is meant to be a three party scenario...you're not sure if you're even “allowed” to fuck Wooyoung tonight.

Once again, those blurred dating boundaries find themselves ever present in every minute aspect of your involvement together.

You could text him. You could also just exercise your agency as a single woman and do whatever it is that you wish to do.

Which, in this moment, is get turned inside out by the blonde sitting next to you.

“Let's get you home, shall we?” Wooyoung says as you both finish drinks at just about the same time. “Can I drive you?”

You know you're supposed to be going back to Hongjoong's tonight, if for no other reason than all of your belongings having found their way into a new home, but you're not necessarily thinking with a clear head, either. You agree, stepping out of the restaurant and into the elevator with Wooyoung. You think about how nice it would be if he began touching you then and there — hand snaking up the inside of your thigh, and ever so curious about just how soft those lips feel comparatively to how they look.

But he never does. Standing still and on the other side of the metal box from you, hands in pocket and chewing on a toothpick from the corner of his mouth.

Getting into his car — something new and expensive and released this year of no surprise to you, he presses on the ignition and turns the heated seats on for you as you both buckle up and tells you to plug your address into the navigation system in the center console.

The anticipation bringing a shake to your hand that you hope he doesn't notice. You're neither frightened nor put off, rather feeling reminiscent to your younger and less experienced years — calling back to an earlier time when being with men made you nervous, but now replaced with desire, and want, a visceral want as an adult woman who seeks sex.

The only other time you remember feeling this way is with Hongjoong. The first time. You feel a little guilty at how easily it's been replicated over a couple of drinks and a $125 plate.

And the car ride to your apartment being silent does you no favors, your imagination running wild with all of the ways in which you wish for Wooyoung to have you. From the restaurant bathroom, to the elevator, to the stairwell in your apartment, to your bedroom now — it takes everything you have within you to clear your mind of the thoughts well enough to gather yourself and thank him for dinner and the ride — both of which he insists are no big deal at all, that the pleasure is his, and you wish for nothing more than to really show him exactly what that could mean.

But you know that the both of you are well aware of what this is. You were with Hongjoong when he originally hit Wooyoung up and explained the situation to him. He knows. He knows that he is effectively someone that you are going to have sex with, should it suit him, and you can't imagine why it wouldn't. The both of you being good looking, and obviously into it with the way that he had been flirting so strongly back at the bar. You knew that he knew what he was doing, and if he were even half as perceptive as you were, then he certainly knew that you were dying for it right about now.

“Want to come up for another drink?” you finally ask, grabbing your purse and lazily pressing your head to the headrest of the leather seats, eyes slightly hooded and most definitely giving the 'fuck me' eyes.

He knows. He definitely knows.

And Wooyoung grins wickedly at the proposal. You can see the way his tongue presses to the inside of his cheek as if mulling over the opportunity in his head — running through the pros and cons of partaking in such a dastardly deed.

You still aren't sure of the dubious circumstances of having sex with this man prior to the previously discussed threesome. Whether this was grey area. According to Hongjoong, Wooyoung is well-versed, so surely he knows the “rules” of what is and isn't okay in any such situation.

“No, thank you, have a good night.”

It comes as such a shock that for a moment you think he might be joking. Tongue to cheek still, and almost certainly attempting to subdue a grin in response, now you really are starting to understand what Hongjoong meant when he said this man was annoying.

Of course he wants to, and of course he knows you want to. And yet, he's not going to.

“Where's the fun in that?” he adds, staring forward and out of the windshield before quickly glancing to the side and towards you with a look that absolutely proves the hypothesis.

He's playing the game, you'll have to play along if you really want it.

It's particularly humiliating you find — dialing the taxi to take you to Hongjoong's when you could have just had Wooyoung drop you there to begin with had you not taken it upon yourself to go rogue, in ways.

You're used to playing chess with Hongjoong, but not like this. A game of chess in which there are moments where you feel as though you have the upper hand, and Hongjoong inadvertently leaves too much of himself bare and exposed on the table — you find that everything about this distinct game feels resoundingly out of your own. A game that you've neither played before nor read the rules on, Wooyoung wraps you around his finger before you ever even really know it and then allows you to hang yourself for his viewing pleasure, when thought through the events of the night in such a way, you find that it almost makes you angry. Who is he? Who is he to set you up to fail in such a tragic display. Setting you up only to watch you fail in the end, all because it gets him off. You consider for a moment that perhaps Hongjoong was wrong about Wooyoung after all, that he wasn't the right fit. That it wasn't worth it.

No one likes getting dicked around, after all.

But it's the lingering feeling of blunt fingers pressed into the skin of your thigh again, the heat of his breath next to your ear whispering lowly in an effort to get you to tell him what it is that you want...however it is that he may have meant it in the moment, that softens your resolve once again and has you thinking ‘what if?’

Hongjoong and Yunho — both men happy and willing to give you any and everything your heart desires, especially sexually, at the drop of a hat, the concept of being 'cat and moused,' as it were — while annoying and not something all too familiar to you, also had awakened a certain arousal within you that you find to have been previously unearthed.

And for better or for worse, you can't put the genie back in the bottle.

What's one more date, after all?

It's the second date that you truly come to terms with how in over your head you might really be with one Jung Wooyoung.

You trusted Hongjoong with your life, that much was true. When it came to your physical, emotional, or mental well-being, you knew that your best friend always had you at the forefront of his care and concern.

But he was out of his fucking mind with this one.

It's the next day after your first date with Wooyoung that he texts you and asks you if you'd like to join him for another outing the next week. Without coming off as too interested, you ignore it for half the day and finally reply that you'll see if you can find time in your ever so busy schedule for him, to which he annoyingly laughs and says that he'll pick you up at 19:00 on Thursday. Figure it was worth a shot.

You realize that this time, given the circumstances of the date at hand, that you're actually entirely unsure of whether or not Hongjoong knows of your whereabouts for the evening. The topic never comes up with Wooyoung — brown dress shirt with all of the same buttons missing as the last time and another set of different but presumably equally expensive dress pants, shoes and blazer to match — this time your eye also happens to catch on the gleam of a gold chain hanging daintily around his neck, so thin it could be mistaken for a string if not for the unmistakable logo of an incredibly luxurious jewelry brand adorning the middle of it.

His ostentatious desire to show off his wealth is off-putting in all of the same ways that you're attracted to it: the unabashed display of not caring one way or another what the person next to him may think.

And this evening, you allowed yourself some room to show off: a stringier, moderately revealing garment adorning your torso — less done-up and prudish than the time previous, and you can tell that he notices the moment that you step out of his car and he follows you inside to the next expensive restaurant in which he intends to play his games with you — eyes trailing and lingering, like a predator that just laid eyes upon its prey.

Once seated in a booth of an empty corner of the restaurant, Wooyoung asks you if you're fine with him ordering for the both of you, which you agree to. He makes quick work of it, much to your surprise — as if now a man with an agenda and no time to waste, his haste sets you a bit on edge. He's not particularly messy or lacking control, but rather with an underlying sense of urgency that wasn't present the last time the two of you met one another.

You're intrigued.

Wooyoung scoots closer to you in the booth — black cushion sinking beneath the both of you as he does so just before he stills hip to hip with you, he takes his drink into one hand and nudges for you to do the same, raising them both ever so slightly in cheers at the evening’s plans.

“So,” he starts just after swallowing a sip of his beverage, “what kind of men do you like?”

The question catches you off guard, nearly choking on the sip of your own, and turning to look at the man serves you even less as you catch the way that his eyes dance across the skin that you've made the mistake of lying bare and for his visual consumption.

“Actually, forget that,” he amends, gently placing an open palm on your thigh, just as he had the time before at the bar, the familiar touch lighting a fire against your skin all over again. Wooyoung leans in closer to you, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your cheek. “What kind of sex do you like?”

You sort of wish you understood it, or could explain it — why it was that you felt so put off by the man's actions in the moment. The same man that only a week ago you were willing to do just about anything to have him in your space like this, now granting you precisely what it was that you wished for and if you were being completely honest with yourself...it was turning you off of him.

Too much too quickly, perhaps.

And perhaps Wooyoung is as perceptive as you anticipated him to be, just as quickly pulling away from you and creating the space that you were silently asking for — as well as taking the hand on your leg with it.

That could have stayed, you think to yourself.

“I'll start,” he whispers loud enough to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the busy restaurant.

Elbow up against the table and chin resting in his hand all over again, the scene feels familiar, and with that, comforting to some degree. The blonde's gentle gaze meets your eyes softly and allows silence to wash past the both of you for a moment before carrying on. A timeout, of sorts, and much needed by you. You're impressed by his ability to pick up on it, the sexiness you previously thought of him already returning to the way in which you view him.

And it would only get worse the more that he talked.

“I like to be versatile,” he starts, taking the martini glass between his fingers and thumb and holding it up near his lips but without intent to sip from it. “I like to play the part of a missing piece, whatever is needed of me, I'm happy to give it.”

“So you're a switch,” you say confidently, only to watch him shrug and a small tug take one of the corners of his mouth...as if you had only begun unraveling all of the layers of one Jung Wooyoung.

You didn't think that to be far off from the truth.

“Something like that. I simply consider myself to be good at all positions.”

His tone drops at the last few words, dripping with lust. Your arousal notices it, as well.

“There's very little that I haven't done, and just about as much that I won't still do,” he adds, now sipping from his drink, your eyes glued to the way his tongue glides over his slick bottom lip and you can't help but think of how his mouth might look covered in a different kind of wetness. “A lot of people think they're good at everything, I know I am.”

Your eyes slowly drop down to the button-less expanse of his exposed chest, the chain that you once found gaudy now dangling in a way that entices you towards desiring more just where it lie.

Wooyoung's hand snakes its way back onto your thigh and you just about jump into his touch as he does so, fingers pressing over a bit further than before. Closer to the apex of your legs but without any actual intent to touch you there.

It's working. Whatever it is that he had set out to do, it was working. You were putty in his hands, just like that — before you ever even knew what had hit you.

“That's why Hongjoong said I was the right fit.”

Hearing his name jolts you back to reality in a way that you could never anticipate, the immediate feeling of guilt settling in your chest, as if you're doing something wrong; then having to be talked down by logic.

You don't even notice Wooyoung lean in towards you, closing the distance between your bodies again before whispering against your ear, “And if they don't deserve it, I don't give it to them.”

It's a power display, for sure. Alluding to the cat and mouse game, and Hongjoong having warned you that Wooyoung would need to be courted — this isn't news to you. You're unsure whether or not you're winning, however — Wooyoung's hand slipping painfully slowly and further down between your thighs as warm breath tickles your skin, as humiliating as it would be you want nothing more than to allow your legs to fall apart and let him finally have his way with you.

But you don't really think he would, anyways. All part of the game.

When dinner arrives, you're not sure if you're thankful for it or not as Wooyoung pulls away and speaks to the waiter as if nothing had ever happened. You wished for the ability to feel the same — but the wet spot in your panties unwilling to allow you to get away with such a fib.

On the drive home — once again facilitated by the man himself — you know not to expect anything this time. In fact, you're well aware of how the end of the evening will turn out after the last time, engaging in futile attempts to not think of all of the same things you had been thinking of same as the last, in addition to all of the extra ways in which the man beside you had insisted on torturing you this evening, to some degree there was a bit of comfort in knowing precisely how the night was going to end. No more games, no more 'what ifs.'

Vehicle stilling on the side of the road just a bit down from your apartment building, Wooyoung turns off the ignition and turns to you, evil intent written all over his features. Now, you're not so sure.

“Come here.”

It's just above a whisper, and you know exactly what it is that he means by the request, all but jumping across the center console and placing your face into one of his palms with ease as he leans forward to meet you — his lips soft and plush just as you had anticipated them to be, the sudden and unexpected contact immediately ignites that fire in your groin — the anticipation, the want, the need for him to touch you, only exacerbated by the way his teeth gently graze your bottom lip in a slow and sensuous kiss. You realized in the moment that you hadn't put much thought into how he would kiss, but that the tenderness he currently exhibited not be what you would have expected.

Perhaps you would have been projecting.

In only a few more moments, Wooyoung is shrugging his blazer off of his shoulders while still seated in the driver's side of his car, followed quickly by the motion for the both of you to climb into the backseat.

This isn't what you had expected — if even on a base level you hadn't been expecting to have sex with him tonight, you certainly weren't expecting it to be in the backseat of his horrifically expensive car. But who are you to judge.

You find yourself barely settled into the backseat before Wooyoung has you by the ankles, pulling you down and lengthwise along the beige seating, only to quickly snake soft hands up the length of your legs and curling fingers into the elastic band of your panties. The heaviness of the circumstances making you reel, you realize that you're still not entirely sure if this is okay to be doing, given everything, but you're far too taken with desire for him to really think it through much further — throwing caution to the wind as you pry your legs apart for him to settle between while his hands make quick work of his belt with a loud clanking sound that you're sure could wake the neighbors.

It's now that his mouth works yours with more haste, once calm kisses against your lips now met with teethy, sloppy biting and nibbling — occasionally trailing down and against your jaw if for no other reason than to taste you. It's dizzying the effect that this man has on you in the moment, recalling back only a few hours prior where for a moment you thought that you might not have any interest in him at all anymore.

Now? Now you'll beg if it's desired of you.

In the darkness of the backseat, you're mostly unable to see him, only feeling and hearing the motion of him pushing his slacks down only enough to expose himself for what's necessary, the throbbing between your legs heightening in excitement, Wooyoung leans down and against your body again, propped up by one hand against the car door as the other blindly fishes for the side of your panties, only to push it away for plans soon to come.

Teeth dragging along the skin of your neck, then up and to your jaw again, you feel him grin into your skin, a finger teasingly prodding at your folds.

“Is Hongjoong going to be upset?”

Aside from the question in and of itself, Wooyoung's tone sounds almost sing-songy, as if playing a game. Like it's dirty talk to bring it up.

Like he hopes you'll say yes. But you don't.

And that's the wrong answer.

Feeling him still from over you, Wooyoung plants a few more kisses onto your skin as if to tell you that it's okay, that you didn't do anything wrong, and that this is all a part of the plan. The game. You get it, you understand him by now, but fucking hell.

“Ah,” he whispers, pulling himself up and tucking himself back into his slacks before buttoning them and gently pulling your dress back down and over your undergarments. “Perhaps I'm not that interested just yet, then.”

A tease. You can hear it in his fucking voice. All a game to him, really.

It happens like a whirlwind, hardly able to recall the details of it in your incredibly heightened and horny state — only the lingering memory of a blonde man grinning at you from his driver's side window as you try to make your way back up to your apartment in one piece. Wooyoung tells you to text him when you get in, to make sure you're safe, even though you're only a few feet out from your place, anyways.

And under normal circumstances, texting this man again you would not, but these are far from normal circumstances, and if Jung Wooyoung knows how to do anything, he can make you need it, on a deeply instinctual level.

And need it you do.

On Saturday, you have a lunch date with your best friend.

Gripping your coat tightly upon entering the building, attempting to shield yourself from the outside wind, a wave of relief hits you once enveloped by the warmth that the cafe brings you. Inviting and comforting — even more so once your eyes land on Hongjoong, seated in a corner next to a large, indoor plant and with a latte already in hand.

“Hey, sorry I'm late.”

Hongjoong shakes his head, “You’re not, I already ordered for you.”

You thank him, and before you even have a chance to sit, the barista announces the readiness of your drink. Rushing over, you thank them and head back to the table, finally seated and sighing as if you had just run a marathon.

The past week or so certainly felt that way.

You know that this meeting is a check in, of sorts. That he's curious about how things are ‘going.’ That even if he had been informed from the other side, that Hongjoong would always make it a point to check in with you, as well. You appreciated the sentiment.

But you weren't entirely sure what to tell him, either.

Lines long ago muddled and blurry in pretty much all directions: you and Hongjoong, you and Wooyoung, Wooyoung and Hongjoong, especially — you couldn't be sure how much information needed to be presented — how much was too much?

“So,” he starts, white mug pressed to his lips and looking up at you over it. “How are things with Wooyoung?”

You want to believe that Hongjoong would never set you up to fail. That he would never play games, would never test you.

Shifting in your chair, hesitant on how to answer the question for numerous reasons and tracing your thumb over the rim of your own mug — you finally land on a decision.

The truth.

“I don't know if it's going to work out.”

Sipping his drink, you watch as one of his eyebrows cocks up, as if confused by the response he has just received. Swallowing his beverage, he sets the mug back down, but decides against interjecting right away as silence takes the table that the both of you are sat at.

And then he laughs.

Back pressing against the chair and arms folding, Hongjoong looks a little bit as though he had expected this result to some degree. Perhaps he had.

“I know how Wooyoung is, he's difficult, I get it,” he says casually, and in the moment you almost wish he was aware of the torment that the man in question had been putting you through. Maybe then he wouldn't be so nonchalant about the whole ordeal, but Hongjoong carries on with the thought. “He plays games, likes to be chased, likes to feel like he has the upper hand—“

You want to cut him off and scream about how he has no fucking clue, but suppose he does, given his recital of it to you currently. You bite it back.

“—If it feels too easy, too attainable, too...how do I say? If there's nothing exciting to it he sort of loses interest quickly.”

“So he doesn't like people who want to fuck him? Does this not register as some sort of red flag to you?” you reply.

Hongjoong chuckles again, “It’s not like that, he definitely likes when people want him, that's sort of the entire thing for him. Loves being desired, but that comes easy to him — gotta give him some extra spice to toy with.”

You don't like the way that the word ‘spice’ falls from your best friend's mouth, tonal ambiguity that simultaneously implies that he knows exactly what it is that he's talking about. It causes you to wonder just how it is that Hongjoong knows so much about the man, that yes — you are aware they are friends and have been for many years, but why is it that you had never been made privy until now?

Maybe best left unknown, Yumeko serving as a still rather fresh reminder that attaining all of the knowledge does not always placate.

It's the concept of ‘spice’ that brings you back to only a few nights back in front of your apartment building, Wooyoung between your legs, exposed, and finally willing to give you precisely what it was you had been wanting.

Until of course, you told him that Hongjoong wouldn't be mad about it.

“How annoying,” you finally reply after a few moments of quiet, and Hongjoong nods, pulling himself forward and taking his latte back into his hands. “Oh, I agree.”

“Is it worth it?” you ask with a sigh as eyes look up and towards you again through long eyelashes across the table.

“Probably.”

On the third date — which you reluctantly agree to and only do so at the insistence of your bestie, with two weeks’ time having passed since the second, you find that time truly does solve so many problems. Desire having waned and taking a backseat to the practicality of the situation, you comfortably reside in the passenger seat of his car as Wooyoung takes the both of you to a remote wooded area just outside of the city — a beautiful view, and obviously somewhere that he's scouted out before, you can't help but wonder how many people he's brought here before — not that it matters, but it appears as though Wooyoung's whole entire being is simply wrapped up in being served in some way or another. Socially, financially, sexually — and perhaps all equally interchangeable to him.

Wooyoung opens the bottle of wine with a pop, carefully pouring the both of you a glass before setting it down beside the car and leaning against the front hood of his car next to you — both wordlessly gazing out upon the sights of the city, often unseen from this distance.

“I can't believe I've never come out here before,” you say after a sip of wine. “It's beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, turning his sights towards you. “Quiet, secluded—“ the hand closest to you delicately pressing up and onto the inside of your thigh. You still at the touch, truthfully, you had forgotten what him touching you felt like.

It didn't take much effort for him to reignite that flame all over again.

“—No one can hear you.”

Wooyoung inches towards you more, closing the distance between the two of your bodies while simultaneously taking the glass from your hand and only dipping down and off of the car long enough to set them onto the ground and out of the way, now standing in front of you he grasps you by the ankles, gently pulling you down the hood and towards him, settling your legs on either side with a smirk. Evil. You can't even allow yourself to be excited for whatever it is to come, completely unsure of how he plans to leave you high and dry tonight.

But when he kisses you again, the need to protect oneself just as quickly melts away — instantaneously recalling all of the ways in which the man had you wrapped around his finger to begin with — aching and breathless, the only thoughts in your head now along the lines of doing any and everything it takes to get what you want.

You hate to think that that conversation with Hongjoong over afternoon brunch may have given you the keys to getting fucked by his friend tonight. Absolutely bizarre, and still entirely gray area.

Dominant hand snaking up the inside of your thigh and disappearing under your skirt as teeth trail down your jaw and to your neck, you don't even bother to make an effort to mask your desire for him — it's evident that he's into the fact, that your wanting him this bad in turn makes him want you, so when his finger hooks into the side of your panties and the flat of another presses against your wetness, you allow yourself the luxury of moaning. Too long and too much teasing up until this point, you need him. You need him to know it, too.

So elated at his touch, you almost don't even hear your phone buzzing, just poking out from the top of your purse lying next to the both of you. Almost.

Wooyoung doesn't stop, but you glance down to see who it is. Your insistence in doing so causes the man attached to your skin to do the same — your reactions to the information, however, show to be quite different as you feel his teeth bear against you as the result of a grin.

Hongjoong.

“Ignore it.”

You have half a mind not to, because you don't typically ignore Hongjoong. Not that you never have, but the other part of you is merely thankful that Wooyoung not instruct you to take the call.

Wooyoung brings another finger down, now pressing two of them slowly but intently inside of you, and the unexpected intrusion has you seeing stars, the moan you had intended to let out merely getting caught in your throat and sounding far more strangled than ever intended.

“Oh,” he sings out and against your neck, “Good girl, you listen so well.”

And you know that he feels the way you tighten against his fingers, thankful that he chooses not to verbally acknowledge it.

It's embarrassingly quick that Wooyoung has you unraveling in the palm of his hand, head thrown back and arms barely able to keep yourself mounted in place as your thighs shake around him as you cum — you don't snap out of it quickly either, grasping his mouth into yours and a hand gripping into his dress shirt once you gain the ability to hold yourself up — a desperate, non-verbal plea for more: he's taken it this far, surely he doesn't have the strength to hold back, the fortitude to deny the both of you further.

Maybe if he were any other man.

But Wooyoung pulls away from you, gently prying your fingers from the fabric adorning him and smiles — a smile that says that you did good, and that he has every intention of carrying on.

Not now, though. Not yet.

“Come to mine on Friday,” he says, voice low and nearly a whisper, conveying that he plans on giving you precisely what it is that you've wanted from him all this time.

Hand once again finding its way up your skirt, a finger playfully toying with the wet spot on your panties — still so sensitive from the orgasm just a few minutes prior. “You'll come over, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you whimper out, humiliated by the way this man has broken you down and rendered you completely pliable in his hand. “Just tell me when.”

“Oh, I will,” he answers back, finger still tracing the lightest circles over you and leaning in to whisper against your ear.

“I give good direction.”

Friday night.

You had forgotten what it felt like, anxiety related indigestion caused by the anticipation of the unknown, but the car ride over serves you a stark reminder of the fact. Picking at the skin around your nails only to force yourself to stop — and just as quickly start up again, it's the gnawing feeling in your gut that reminds you that you aren't really sure what it is that you have agreed to tonight.

Obviously, consent isn't a concern. You trusted Wooyoung well enough and felt comfortable with him — that if it were a safety concern of any kind, Hongjoong never would have suggested the man to begin with.

It's simply the unknown of it all, sinking like a rock in your stomach and only coming loose to do the occasional, nauseating flip.

Another somewhat flashy dress, cut even a bit lower than the ones previously, as if your willingness to present skin to him a visual timeline of the way that the situation had progressed — you pressed a fallen strap up and onto your shoulder once again from where it had fallen upon exiting the taxi, now standing in the busy and bustling sidewalk in front of Wooyoung's undoubtedly wildly expensive condo.

The irony of your anxiety: he was almost certainly, finally going to fuck you.

The longest elevator ride of your life, considering Wooyoung only lived on the 17th floor. The ding of the arrival reminding you of the first night that you met the man, and how your uncertainty that night paled in comparison to now. You didn't know what to expect then, and somehow upon spending more time with him...you knew what to expect even less now.

1704.

Surprisingly quickly after knocking, Wooyoung opens the door and greets you with a smile. Purple, silken dress shirt and a nice pair of slacks as usual, it's a familiar sight, except for the way his hair isn't done to perfection this time — wavy and to the sides, you find that it's surprisingly adorable, and gives him a far more approachable visual appeal than how he typical likes to carry himself. You can't help but wonder why it is he chose tonight to unveil the look.

That is until you step inside of his apartment.

You don't even notice it at first, not anticipating having to glance around for anything out of the ordinary, so it's only after you remove your heels and set your bag down that the site of the other, navy blue haired man seated in the living room nearly brings you to a screeching halt. Emphasis on the screeching.

What the fuck?

And you quickly come to realize that Oh, it's happening. It's happening now.

“Ya know,” Hongjoong says, arm thrown over the back of the black leather couch to grant him the leverage to turn to look over it at you. “I thought you might not come.”

But Wooyoung chuckles at that. “I knew she would.”

Dizzying is an understatement, and you're not entirely sure how you feel about them having sprung this on you like this. You expected the next step to be a full on conversation, not simply being invited into it unbeknownst to you. A conversation you'd have to have with Hongjoong later. After the fact.

Well, you weren't upset enough to leave, of course.

Did...Hongjoong know you had been invited over tonight under the assumption that you would be having sex with Wooyoung — and only Wooyoung?

Too many questions swimming around in your head and not enough time to sort through them before the blonde man takes you by the hand and walks you over towards the living room, adjacent to your best friend. Delicately handing you a glass of champagne, he allows you a moment to take a sip from the glass before bringing a hand up and to the side of your face — thumb grazing over the skin before pulling you into his for a kiss.

But it feels weird. Weird with Hongjoong there, watching it happen. Watching his friend kiss you with intent to do much more. You try to lean into it, play along as best you can in hopes that you'll get into it and your reluctance will melt away with time.

Jung Wooyoung is far too perceptive for his own good, however.

Pulling away from you slowly, he looks into your eyes gently, accompanied with a soft smile. You think that in that moment, it's the first time that he's looked at you without an undercurrent of nefarious intent. Instead, a once wicked and alluring man is replaced with someone gentle and kind.

You find the duality alluring in and of itself. Of course, no one is one thing all of the time, such is humanity, but not everyone is always so keen on letting people see all of the sides of themselves. A man with a tough and expensive image, but so willing to let it fall away with ease in an attempt to elicit comfort and understanding.

Maybe you were starting to see what Hongjoong had seen.

“Don't worry,” he whispers to you, carefully stepping back. Watching as he strides towards Hongjoong, you patiently await whatever it is that he plans on unveiling to calm your nerves. “I'll make sure we're all comfortable.”

You don't know what that means, exactly.

Watching Wooyoung intently as he stills in front of Hongjoong — still looking at you briefly before finally pulling his eyes from you and setting down on the man in front of him, it surely happens in slow motion, it simply must be in slow motion as he sinks down and to his knees in between Hongjoong's legs. You watch his hands trail up familiar legs, easily recalling the way that it feels from both sides before Wooyoung's fingers grip into the sides of Hongjoong's jeans and begin their descent down.

You've got to be hallucinating now.

And for your viewing pleasure, the blonde man wastes no time taking Hongjoong into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and slowly bobbing along the other man’s length. You watch the way one of Hongjoong's hands finds its way into blonde hair, pulling it up and away — you're more than familiar with the act of kindness — as well as the breathy cuss that escapes from Hongjoong's lips when Wooyoung takes him especially deep into his mouth.

A little in awe, Hongjoong being with men is no news to you, and Wooyoung partaking in the same is no surprise, either. The two of them together? Well, you had suspected as much.

But this show was for you, in particular, and Hongjoong's half-lidded gaze towards you as Wooyoung swallowed his length down offered some sort of special, previously locked away level of intimacy shared between the two of you that you were never even aware existed to begin with.

It also lit the arousal between your legs on fire.

Only carrying on for a few minutes, Wooyoung climbs back up and off of his knees, walking towards you and wasting no time pulling you into another kiss — this time rougher, laced with far more need. His fingers battling with the buttons on the front of his shirt as he does so, he pulls back to look you deeply in the eyes, allowing nothing but silence between you if only for a second before speaking.

“Do you like how he tastes on my mouth?”

You think that your legs might give out on the spot.

With Wooyoung's shirt removed and discarded elsewhere, you're finally able to view what it is that you have been desiring all of this time — toned, tan skin — you don't even have enough time to take it in before your attention is brought to the fact that he's unbuckling his belt, and then plump lips pressed against your neck, trailing down your shoulder. You find the visual and physical stimulation of the ordeal so overwhelming, having not even noticed that Hongjoong had removed himself from his spectator’s view and positioned himself behind you — only becoming aware upon feeling his own familiarity across otherwise empty skin, mirroring the work of Wooyoung.

“Should move to the bedroom,” Wooyoung murmurs into your skin, and you nod embarrassingly quickly at the suggestion, bringing forth light giggles from both men. “First room on the right,” he instructs, nodding forward and towards the hallway.

And he wastes no time, of course, pressing your back into the excessively plush bedding — not even bothering to pull any of it out from under you before he's got his fingers hooked into your panties as Hongjoong wrestles with getting your dress up and off of the rest of you from behind.

Overwhelming was an understatement, but the excitement of the scenario proving far too much to ignore. It was no longer a want, it was a need.

With your panties off and flung to the side, Wooyoung wastes no time prying your legs apart to make room for him — knelt down for the second time that night and pulling you by the hips towards the edge of the bed. Bringing a single hand up and forward, pressing the pad of his middle finger along the wetness of your slit, he looks up at you with the devious sort of grin that you had become much more accustomed to over your time spent with the man.

“If you say 'no,' or 'stop,' I stop, okay?”

In your horny haze, you're not even sure why he's telling you this — Hongjoong leaning down from behind you and pressing a kiss to your forehead as if to calm you ahead of time.

You nod, and Wooyoung accepts the compliance with terms as he presses his mouth against you, tongue digging between your folds and flat against your clit almost immediately. The sudden sensation makes you jump, whimper just as quickly escaping your lips. You hear Hongjoong giggle from behind you, settling in a way that grants him easier access to your face as he gently smooths more kisses across your forehead and hairline, hand carefully pulling away hair that threatens to get pulled into your mouth between gasps of air and cusses as a result of Wooyoung — it's the combination of sensations that you realize has you truly reeling, that one or the other, while certainly good on their own, simply don't compare to the sensory overload of both.

You figure they knew this, though.

And it's not your first threesome, either. But it's the first one where you're the focus.

Past the few initial and experimental licks, the blonde between your legs wastes no time digging his tongue in and against you. The first time he brings you close to the edge, he doesn't get you there — chalking it up to inexperience with a new partner, not knowing all of the ways to make them tick, it's an easy mistake to make.

After the third, and the gleam in his eye becoming apparent, now you know that he's doing it on purpose.

And the more that he does it, the less in control you are. Whining and thrashing against the sheets beneath you, every time that Wooyoung's lips latch onto you, you can't help the way that your hips bear down and against him — even in spite of him having hands gripped into your hips to keep you in place. Once he has you building on your fifth lost orgasm — hand pulling down and gripping into long, yellowy locks of hair, you grind down and against his face, with tears pricking the corners of your eyes in need for the release he's denied you, now, more times than you can really count.

“Please, Wooyoung, p-please—“ you whimper, not above begging for what you need and almost sure of the fact that reducing you to this had been his intention all along, it's the comfort of Hongjoong's warm lips against your temple that help calm you.

“You're doing so well,” he whispers into your skin, Wooyoung still hard and fast with his tongue into your cunt. “Baby, you're doing so good for us.”

“Oh my god, Joong, I—“

The orgasm hits you sudden and hard, partially because you don't anticipate Wooyoung granting it to you, then paired with Hongjoong's insistence in showering you with praise — muscles in your legs and abdomen tightening so hard it's nearly excruciating just before the release, all you can manage out is a string of expletives as you come — Wooyoung enthusiastically sucking you through it, two fingers buried deep inside of you as you do so.

When you begin to be able to catch your breath, you're not entirely sure how you can even carry on from this point.

But the man in charge has other plans.

“Up,” he says, motioning for you to move further along the bed to make room, hands fiddling with his pant button now with a belt long since removed, you manage to pull your eyes away from the sight before you to gaze up and at him. He grins. “That's not what you came for.”

Pants dropping down his legs, even from beneath the confines of his boxer briefs you can tell what you're in for already, pussy throbbing in anticipation of a particular feeling of fullness.

Wooyoung crawls onto the bed and between your legs, leaning forward and motioning for Hongjoong to come forward which he obliges. The two men kiss just above your line of vision — all tongue and teeth and seduction. When Wooyoung pulls away, he asks Hongjoong if he likes how you taste on him this time.

“She tastes better on me.”

Playful and matter of fact, but you can't help but wonder if there's something underlying the message.

With a sinful grin in response, Wooyoung motions for the both of them to switch places, instructing you to get onto all fours which you quickly oblige. “I want to feel your mouth on me,” he admits, gently running a hand through your hair as he settles in front of you with cock standing at attention — it's the first time you're seeing it, really seeing it. He's big, which you had anticipated, but more in girth than length, and you waste no time at all pressing the flat of your tongue to the underside of him as you feel Hongjoong settle in from behind, a finger delicately tracing your wet slit, knowing that he need not warm you up for him any further.

A slow, deliberate drive into you from behind as you take Wooyoung into your mouth shallowly, experimentally — eyes falling down and onto the way that your lips barely fit around his dick, he groans at the sight, fingers only slightly gripping harder into the strands atop your head.

“Three taps on my thigh and we stop,” he says, an amendment to the initially instated rules to allow for your inability to speak. “Won't get rough but it can be a lot.”

You're not even entirely sure of what he means by ‘a lot,’ you figure he's doing his best to give direction despite being fucked out already and wanting desperately to fuck your face and not doing so — your best guess is that he simply means the situation in general, and you can easily understand what he means with a particularly hard thrust from Hongjoong sends you forward and as a result, Wooyoung's length further into your mouth than you had anticipated. He doesn't say anything and doesn't pull you off, but you feel his grip in your hair soften, as if to grant you the ease of pulling off of him with haste should you need it.

“God you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” Wooyoung groans, experimentally giving shallow thrusts forward. “So pretty, like it was meant for you.”

The praise makes you groan, clenching around Hongjoong as his hands dip down and clasp around your waist to pull you back and harder against him. “Perfect girl, all for us tonight,” Hongjoong adds, leaning down and pressing his mouth against the skin of your back.

In the moment, you sort of wish you could see him. Hongjoong, that is. You find that as good as it feels, there's a certain sense of intimacy lost in the scenario. It's not bad, nor is it wrong, but different.

Perhaps not one you find yourself willing to give up again any time soon.

With a few more drives into you from behind, Hongjoong comes, burying his cock deep within and feeling the way that he throbs inside of you as he pumps you full of his release. Upon his exit, Wooyoung looks down at you before looking back up and towards the man spent and across the bed.

“I want to fuck your girlfriend.”

The statement has you dizzy, in more ways than you really have time to acknowledge in the moment.

But it's Hongjoong's acknowledgment of it that truly sends you through a loop, or rather, lack thereof.

“Wear a condom.”

Sure, you were going to insist on the same thing, but...that's his response?

Pulling off of Wooyoung's length, you look up at him to catch the way that he licks his lips and grins in response to Hongjoong's demand. Not an unheard of request by any means, but if one were to look just a bit more deeply into it — sure, perhaps there are some implications past the base level.

You and Hongjoong really have got to have that sit down talk.

“You know, safety,” Hongjoong adds, lying back with his chest still heaving from his orgasm and fingers running through short, navy blue hair. “You're having sex with other people.”

His insistence in explaining the request away only serving to betray him in the end — it goes without saying why anyone in their right of mind would insist on the additional party in a threesome arrangement to wear protection.

Everyone knows that, so what is it really that Hongjoong is trying to explain away?

Wooyoung leans back and towards his nightstand, pulling out a metallic package and once again trading places with Hongjoong — smaller of the two settling in front of you and stroking your head as you feel Wooyoung lining himself up at your entrance — you think about how this is what you have been dying for for weeks now, how at times it felt so reminiscent of the way in which you desired Hongjoong what feels like all of those months ago.

Looking up and meeting eyes with Hongjoong, he smiles down at you gently, fingernails lightly pressing into your scalp as his fingers run through your hair.

It's intimate, as everything with Hongjoong ultimately is.

The initial stretch of Wooyoung entering you is what brings your eyes back down, gritting teeth and hissing at the intrusion. You knew he was big, and even in spite of having just been fucked open, you found it not to be enough — the burn of the pull of his cock so unfamiliar and new that your fingers grip harder into the sheets below, arms no longer granting the ability to keep yourself up as your front half falls flat against the bed.

Hongjoong follows you there, lying opposite lengthwise to rest his head next to yours. “Fuck,” you hiss, and your best friend chuckles next to you before kissing the side of your head.

“You take him well, I've watched people tap out immediately.”

Once again, a conversation for another day, but feeling the pull of Wooyoung along your insides as he readies himself for another push inside has the burning in your stomach building so much faster than you had ever anticipated. You feel as though you have gone into this situation with all of the information you could have: you wanted it bad, he had a big dick — and yet here you were, your body threatening to betray you in the worst kind of way, only a few strokes in and cautioning the quick arrival of your orgasm.

Biting back sounds the best you can as not to give yourself away, eyes tightly shut and eyebrows furrowed as you're slowly and repeatedly pressed into the mattress from behind, you feel the enamored gaze of Hongjoong on you from the side — you know he knows, you just hope he won't say it.

But the following drive of Wooyoung into you is a harsh snap of his hips — rough and hard and causing the loud sound of skin meeting skin to echo through the room. Your pathetic, unmasked cry out follows.

You sound like you're going to cry. You don't feel as though that's far from the case.

Met with another one, now it's his name followed by a whiny “fuck,” that drops from you.

And now he knows.

Reaching forward and pulling your arms back, Wooyoung asserts his physical strength in a way not seen before, using your arms for leverage against you as he effectively has you balancing on his cock as he fucks into you hard. It's overwhelming, now having an even clearer view of Hongjoong's sight of you — you'd be lying if you didn't feel a wash of humiliation, but the tight grin on your best friend's face more than placating the feeling.

Three, four more pushes into you, and Wooyoung asks “Gonna come untouched, huh?”

You nod quickly. You hate that it's true, but it is.

And pressing you back down, face first into the mattress, he delivers a few more hard drives into you before feeling you clench hard against his cock in the early stages of your release — mouth hung open, whining and crying out as you come around him — buried so deep into you that you worry if he were any longer it'd hurt. A few seconds into it, the blonde man behind you resumes his pace against you, hard and quick and quite obviously chasing his own release — coming quick enough that you wonder just how good his orgasm control really is — Wooyoung quickly pulls the condom off, wrapping his hand around himself to stroke him through his own as ropes of milky cum wash across your behind and his fingers.

Chest heaving, Wooyoung sinks down and brings himself face first into your freshly fucked pussy, licking a long stripe against you that has you whimpering in overstimulation.

“Always an overachiever,” Hongjoong laughs as you finally crumble from exhaustion, falling to your side just between the two men. “You were amazing,” he then says, eyes fixating on you now and full of what could only be described as adoration.

Hongjoong had a habit of looking at you like he was in love with you. You couldn't help but wonder if he knew it.

Moving along the bed, Wooyoung makes his way closer towards the both of you, lying on your other side opposite of your best friend, breathing still ragged from the night's events having only just ended.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” he asks quietly, nearly a whisper, and you nod — enjoying the feeling of his tender touch across the expanse of your stomach. “Can I get you anything? Is there anything either of you need?”

You wonder why it is that Wooyoung seems to naturally take on this sort of caretaker role in these sorts of scenarios. A man that carries himself as one of suffocating self-importance and borderline selfishness, at all points in the night resigning himself to being not necessarily the one in charge, or the one giving order — but the one ensuring that everything goes well. That everyone is taken care of.

No one is everything all of the time.

Throat dry, you manage out a request for a glass of water which the blonde hurriedly obliges, rushing off and into the kitchen, it's in the short absence that you reach out to locate Hongjoong — now seated and breath caught, you don't even think twice before rolling towards him and lazily placing your head in his lap.

And he doesn't think twice before adoringly tangling his fingers in your hair again.

“Are you happy?” he asks in a whisper, as if he doesn't want Wooyoung to even have a chance to hear the question.

You smile tiredly, sleep threatening to take you by the second.

“Yeah.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

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[sterkeyra]

Voltages 3 New Titles for 2024

The japanese Version of Love 365 announced 3 new titles for this year. The first one will already release at the end of April.

You can watch the trailer here: https://youtu.be/Q8sn1uNZe-Q

My childhood friend - My second first love (Late April)

The title boy is called Kuroe Kento (黒江健斗). MC seems to be engaged at the start of the story however her fiance betrays her and it seems like she is seeking comfort in Kuroes arms. Her childhood friend has grown into a fine man.

The premise feels similar to My Last First Kiss, Love Brings You Home or maybe even Kings of Paradise.

Head over Heels Marriage - I'm too obsessed with my wife to let her go (June)

The title man's name is Mikoshiba Kazuma (御子柴和真). MC starts of happily married with her man, living their best life in his suite. However, things feels too perfect, is really truly everything okay?

I gotta say this title seems to be the most mysterious. The guy could be shady, or maybe does not have as much money as he deems or he is just overly smitten by his wife and does not give her much room to breath and pampers her rotten

From the premise it looks a bit like Oops I Said Yes or maybe even the untranslated Honey Moon title.

I could also imagine it to be a more wholesome or realistic Kissed by the Baddest Bidder without the auctions? Anyways the guy reminds me a bit of a mix of Kunihiro and Kazuomi (at least on the cover)

Kiss Me Until Daybreak (August)

The last of the three protagonists is called Iriyama Tsubaki (入山椿). MC is hopelessly in love with the man but he is not interested in a relationship. Luckily friends with benefits is rather popular these days so she might just be able to convince him in that way.

This title seems to be a bit more angsty and emotional compared to the others. It gives me Irresistible Mistakes and Hiroki from My Last First Kiss vibes. Und

Anyways this is whats to come in the near future.

My opinions under the cut

In my opinion the titles give a more mature vibe and feel a bit like soft versions of the adult site Otona / Koi100 More. (The More stories that we are currently getting are from the for example, though they have their exclusive titles too).

I have to admit none of the titles really caught my eyes right away and they feel more like Oneshots similar to Perfect Boyfriend or A World With(Out) You. They somehow lack the... glow? of other Voltage titles, but I'd gladly get proven wrong 😄 Currently i cannot see them having multiple seasons or even multiple characters? Plotwise i'm most curious about the Marriage title, artwose Kiss Until Daybreak even though I'm not that much of a fan of friends with benefits. The sprite of childhood friend looks good to me!

I feel like Voltage might be stalling for time until they can continue with Kings of Paradise or Tokyo Love Hustle.

I felt like instead of just relationship / romance focus I would have loved another supernatural or action series (which is why i really hope they'll continue TLH) because they feel similar to other titles. Voltage has proven that they are great with the supernatural themes with Court of Darkness or Even if Tempest, so i'm definitely excited about their new Switch titles. I just wish they gave a gem to Love 365 too haha.

Anyways let's wait and see.