#Rather than simply superficial

[panvani]

Ig all coming of age fiction is like this bur it's like Catcher in the Rye without the irony

[ladyempty]

Yandere Maegor, Daemon and Aegon I reaction to Reader running away and marrying someone else and having children?? Please 😭😭

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. | ° | English is not my first language. |

Aegon I

Aegon Targaryen I is the definition of a conqueror, courageous, intelligent and ambitious, with a friendly and captivating personality, easily lovable and admirable, but with few close friends. A certain air of enigma surrounded his figure, making people try to unravel him, attracted like moths by his light of monarchical dignity.

The king was comfortable and accustomed to sycophants, women dragging themselves for crumbs, or simply a single night in his bed. He was unfamiliar with something denied to him. He had "conqueror" in his name for a reason that went far beyond the submission of the other lords.

So it came as a complete shock when he was so bluntly denied when he approached you at one of the numerous banquets hosted by the royal family. At first, Aegon couldn't even process it, the features remained the same with a gentle smile and analyzing eyes and no words uttered. Like a person who was suddenly punched and in the first few seconds didn't understand or simply didn't know how to react. He just narrowed his purple eyes and watched you leave in an elegant bow.

The first time he was seriously denied, you hadn't done it to pique his interest, but rather to preserve your own honor, not wanting to be just another king's case knowing that he would return to Rhaenys at the end of the day. He admired this. If his plans were to push him away, you were not successful, you only made a dangerous obsession settle in your being.

He began to pursue you subtly, with gallant and courteous gestures, he urgently wanted to erase the first impression you had of him. Forcing the Targaryen to reveal his personality beyond the superficial, rambling for countless hours about some common interest and constantly summoning his presence, whether to read to him while I work or simply enjoy his warm presence.

And when his barriers were still not lowered, the king had to resort to more drastic measures, asking for her hand in marriage and making it clear that he would not accept being denied.

You would be softer when you were a wife and had duties towards him. The conqueror thought wrongly. Never in a thousand lifetimes did he expect you to run away. As soon as he found out, Aegon simply went crazy, the image made up of himself falling down the moment he threatened to destroy the entire seven kingdoms again if he didn't get you back.

Stone by stone, leaf by leaf. Everything was meticulously investigated by the countless guards spreading even through the most forgotten places by the gods. The Targaryen king became somewhat paranoid and easily irritated by his disappearance, not even Rhaenys could calm him down or change his mind. It was two years of pure torment.

Ah... When he finally found you in a small house in pentos... Married and obviously pregnant... It was like the world was open beneath your feet again. A loving feeling of betrayal. How dare you? Did you think that pathetic man could love you more than him?! How stupid.

He coldly killed her husband and none of her tears and pleas could change his mind. His heart was partially darkened by his betrayal. He won't forget anytime soon, you'll have to regain his trust to have the slightest amount of freedom. Countless guards will follow you closely, if you are even allowed to leave your quarters.

And your son? Don't worry, Aegon will assume paternity of the child even if it comes with rumors about having deflowered you before the wedding. It didn't matter. He just wouldn't let you mother a bastard or have that other man as a part of your life. Aenys was his heir anyway.

Maegor, The Cruel

You were certainly a very unlucky person to have caught the attention of the Targaryen king who was called cruel. You probably met at an event organized by him to celebrate one of his conquests, reaffirming his power and sovereignty as king, or you were one of his wives' ladies-in-waiting.

Whether you were from a big house, small house or even a commoner. It didn't matter. You were his the moment the king laid eyes on your enchanting figure.

Maegor was a man of few feelings, he didn't truly love any of his wives, it was lust mixed with the rational thought of creating heirs. But you were different, there was something special that made Maegor feel a bubbling sensation in his chest, a pleasant and addictive warmth like he had never felt before. It was something unfamiliar, one that he felt slightly hesitant to demonstrate or how to handle. But he just knew he wanted you and he would have you. At any cost.

Maegor was far from the definition of courteous, he knew little about the gallant arts or gentle love. Therefore, he had little knowledge about the courtship, the little he knew was from his mother's advice, who only knew about these things from the poets who surrounded Rhaenys.

Either way, he is not discreet. He doesn't even make an effort to appear less intimidating than he is. His eyes are fixed on you no matter the moment, his intimidating and darkening presence looming over you like a shadow. Once he even gave him a white fur coat, an animal he himself killed. It was his way of showing his interest. Something raw and rustic, without words, just proves to be worthy of you.

Either way, he wouldn't wait long. The moment he gets tired of waiting and the itch that grows in him is not relieved, he will attack. Demanding her hand in marriage from her, leaving no room for disagreement. He didn't expect you to run away in the middle of the night... Stupid little bird. Did you think he wouldn't come after you?

The man flew into a rage the moment he found out, destroying everything and everyone in his path, no matter if they were his wives, servants or important masters. Everyone should pay for his blinding rage. He turned the seven kingdoms into hell looking for you. A thick layer of blood, smoke, ash and corpse covering every corner of the kingdom.

And when he found you... Ah, dumb little bird, did he think he could hide for another year? Never.

He killed her husband the moment he saw the man, not even bothering to give him a painful death to pay for his crimes. He was as furious as a bull at the sight of any trace of red. He never thought about seriously hurting you, but he would have to punish you in a certain way to put you in your place. But his angry thoughts strayed the moment he caught sight of her swollen belly with a child.

A baby, that could and should be his. It was someone else's... It was an unforgivable betrayal. He could never fully forgive you. He would never forget or leave you alone for even a second.

He wouldn't kill the child, he would keep you away until you gave birth and then pretend that the child belonged to his lady-in-waiting, even if it was his child behind closed doors. It was a good way to keep tabs on you. Do you love your child? So better obey, you don't want something bad to happen, right?

Do not worry, dear. If you want to be a mother and wife so much, who would Maegor be to deny you that? You would be two things very soon.

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon was never a man to love madly, he fell in love a few times. He rolled from bed to bed without a fixed commitment, just looking for momentary fun and vague pleasures. He indulged in his desires without shame. Bad luck for you to have been so captivating. He was hooked on you the moment their eyes met his.

Any slight affection he ever had for other women and men was forgotten. For you he felt love. Real love that went beyond lust. After all, he had never touched you intimately and he already had such overwhelming feelings.What was it if not love? You were his only thought.The first thought when waking up and the last when going to bed.

And Daemon had no intention of hiding his affection. His hands constantly find their way to your shoulders or start from your waist, a touch that lingers on a simple handshake and a look so intense that it would make anyone else tremble in fear.

As expected, rumors were created questioning his honor and how terrible the prince was. When his father went to confront him, Daemon just smiled mischievously and just said he would marry you. To everyone's great surprise, after all, the Targaryen had demonstrated his unhappiness during his first marriage.

But you weren't like that woman uglier than a sheep. You were perfect in every aspect and in the very definition of the word. Something to be admired every day.

It was a strong, stunning blow when you disappeared during the night, your maids only finding cold, wrinkled sheets when they went to wake you up that morning.

Where in the seven hell were you? He would find you... You couldn't run away.

He destroyed, killed, tortured and threatened. He spent days flying with Caraxes to every corner of the seven kingdoms just to find you. Unsuccessfully. A long year without having your favorite addiction... You.

He drowned himself in e wine while you were gone, nursing a bubbling rage and constantly exploding at everyone, scaring even Viserys, who thought he had seen the worst side of his brother.

But nothing lasts forever. He found you. He invaded your home in Essos without hesitation. He didn't kill your husband at first because his stunned mind simply refused to understand that you had betrayed him in such a disgusting way.

But the moment she saw the little newborn baby in her arms. He understood everything.The black sister ran through her pathetic husband without mercy, blood spatter staining his robes in small crimson droplets.The cold, darkened eyes like never before were directed at you.

For a moment you feared for the baby's life, placing the small bundle against your chest to protect it.

"Don't worry, I would never hurt our son." He smiles as he says each word slowly. He would legitimize that child as his and didn't care what he would say. A good way to keep you behaved and not tarnish his bloodline with bastards. Obviously he would love his own children more with you, but he wouldn't show it so openly. You're lucky the child looks so much like you…

[cadavercowboy]

Just Friends

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A night of drinking makes Bucky bold and a harmless text makes him bolder.

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Alcohol consumption. Thigh fucking. Orgasm denial. Cum play (microscopically). Oral sex (implied).

The tip of one finger prods gently at your lower lip, eyebrows scrunching with a wince when a burst of pain emanates from the slightly swollen flesh. A narrow, reddened cut dissects the once smooth surface and you lean closer to your streaked mirror to get a better look. Carefully, you press your lips together as if you’d just applied a layer of lipstick and the sting worsens.

You swear you can feel your pulse throbbing beneath the superficial wound and you sigh. It has ached all day, even more so when you split the small wound open while eating dinner earlier. Yanking open a drawer, you dig around in search of your scarcely-used tub of Vaseline, hoping the sticky goop will prevent your scabbed lip from cracking open again. With a soft touch, you apply a thin layer to your tender lip as well as its uninjured mate, having to stop yourself from habitually rubbing them together. 

This is all Bucky’s fault.

Last night had been a normal outing, no different from any other you’ve shared among your small group of friends. Music pumped from speakers, alcohol flowed from an array of bottles and cocktails, fun and laughter filled the evening. Normal, that is, until Bucky backed you into a dark corner of the bar and kissed you harder and more fiercely than any man or woman ever has.

It wasn’t the kiss that surprised you so much as the kisser. Admittedly, Bucky is a good-looking guy and sure you’ve had less-than-appropriate thoughts about him a time or two, but it’s not as if you’ve ever had a truly serious interest in him beyond what some might consider a crush. Not that it matters much. Although you consider him a friend, Bucky is rather reserved and — prior to last night — you’d have bet any amount of money that he’s certainly never had a second thought about you. 

And yet, the ghost of his warm lips devouring yours still haunts your mouth. The way he’d cradled your head and caressed your tongue with his own has you feeling light-headed even after all these hours. Bucky licked and sucked hungrily at you, at one point seeming to grow so overwhelmed with an untamed need that he’d nipped rather harshly at your mouth and left you with a memento of your shared moment of passion.

You shake your head and flip off the bathroom lights before heading back to your bedroom. Stripping down, you throw on a comfortable outfit to sleep in and climb under the covers. With your head burrowed comfortably deep in your pillows, you shut your eyes and beg your brain to stop replaying the memory of last night on a loop. You have to stop thinking about Bucky. And about Bucky’s lips. And about kissing Bucky. 

But you can’t.

Your eyes flick open, hardly able to see anything in the darkness of your room and you sigh. You huff and flop onto your side, hoping the change of position will usher you off to sleep faster. The niggling thoughts pervade. You still can’t believe he kissed you like that. Ignoring the pinch of pain you feel, your tongue sweeps repeatedly over your bruised lip and you swear you can still taste Bucky there. 

In all honesty, you want to simply blame it on the alcohol or the heated tension you’d created on the dancefloor together just so you won’t have to admit that your broody, handsome friend might actually be attracted to you. Hell, you’d blame it on something as trivial as the full moon if it means you can avoid having to think about what last night’s kiss might mean for your meager friendship. Is it too much to hope that Bucky had been overly inebriated and forgotten about it altogether? 

As if able to hear you thinking about him, the once silent phone sitting on your dresser lights up and vibrates. Propped up on one elbow, you can just barely make out Bucky’s name popping up with a succinct ping. You stare at the screen for a long moment, hoping that if you don’t look at his text, it will somehow go away. It doesn’t. In fact, an accompanying message joins the first and your curiosity finally forces you to reach for the device. 

Bucky: Tried to order a shot at the bar and they’re all out of tequila. I think we did serious damage last night

You smirk and release a quick snort of laughter at Bucky’s text, all the while wondering how in the world he’s managing to go out drinking after last night. It’s been an entire day and you’re still feeling the effects of your overindulgence, your head evidently doing its best impression of a balloon full of concrete. Before you can respond, the screen indicates that Bucky is typing something else. 

Bucky: Sorry about kissing you by the way. We have to be as awkward as possible around each other now FYI

So much for forgetting. Sensing Bucky’s attempt to make light of the strange situation while also trying to suss out how you’re feeling about it, you decide to take it easy on him. You have no hard feelings about the kiss and you’d hate for him to feel badly over something so trivial. 

Sitting all the way up, you switch on the bedside lamp and open the camera app while you bring your phone close to your face. You open your mouth slightly so the aftermath of Bucky’s kiss is more visible, take a photo, then send it his way with a sarcastic text about how he should be sorry for how he’s maimed and massacred you. 

It doesn’t even occur to you how the thoughtlessly snapped picture might be misinterpreted. There had been no purposeful intention in the sensual way your lips were parted, nor had you meant to capture your cleavage in the image. You’d simply sent the picture as a joke and locked your phone, but seconds later — even before you’ve managed to set the device back down — Bucky’s number and the goofy group picture you have saved as his contact photo are lighting up your screen. The phone vibrates steadily in your hand as you stare in surprise. 

If you’d been sitting in the downtown bar with him, you would have watched as the content smile that accompanied the sight of your incoming message had been promptly swept away as Bucky’s eyes scanned what you’d actually sent. You would have seen the way he snatched his jacket off the barstool and how his hand nearly shattered the glass of his phone’s screen when he jabbed your contact with unnecessary force. You would have witnessed him lifting the phone to his ear, grinding his teeth as the dial tone droned while he strode through the thinning crowd and out the bar’s exit to the crowded street.

“Hello?” you drawl hesitantly upon answering the call.

You receive no greeting in return, only a terse demand.

“Send me your address.”

“What? Why?” you wonder, sitting up straighter in your bed at the serious sound of Bucky’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is you sending me that picture,” he retorts as if it is obvious.

“Bucky, what are you talking about?” you laugh nervously. “It was just a joke.”

“I’m not joking,” Bucky assures you seriously. “Send me the damn address.”

You repeat his name again with another uneasy scoff as you try to process his unexpected adamance. Heat blooms all across your body and you begin to chew nervously on your fingernail as you struggle to come up with a reason for him not to come over. There’s no way this man is going to show up on your doorstep.

“Listen, I’m…I’m already in bed in my pajamas,” you offer lamely. “I’m not exactly in any state to receive company and…and…I haven’t cleaned in days! I was just kidding, Buck…you don’t need to—.”

“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t you dare.”

The argument sounds rather lacking even to your own ears. In actuality, you don’t care how you look or how your place looks if Bucky does come over. What you care about is what will happen if he does; specifically, what’s going to happen to you. But there’s no way this man is going to show up on your doorstep.

“I’m going to hang up the phone and get a cab,” Bucky informs you impatiently. “By the time I do, I better have your address.”

Before you even have a chance to plead your case, the line goes dead. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you stare indecisively at the chat which remains open on the screen. The easiest solution would be to put the damn thing down, roll over, and go to sleep. But the cursor that flashes in the textbox taunts you, calling to you like a beacon. You’re suddenly feeling uncharacteristically weak. 

Your fingers move of their own volition, punching in the appropriate information before you toss your phone to the end of the bed and flop backwards with a closed-mouth scream. This man is going to show up on your doorstep. 

There’s something paradoxical to the notion that you aren’t close enough friends for Bucky to know where you live, yet he’s about to show up here to…well, you aren’t quite sure what he’s showing up for. His demand to know your address was alarming — if not somewhat enticing — and you allow your imagination to take over for a moment.

With damp palms dragging down your suddenly overheated face, your mind races and you begin to question your sanity. It would have been so easy to ignore Bucky’s demand and just go to sleep. You’d probably be saving yourself a lot of trouble. But deep down, you have to admit that this is something you’ve been secretly wanting since the very first day you met Bucky. However, that particular thought exists miles down a road you’re not quite ready to travel along.

By the time the resounding knock comes, you’ve paced about a mile and a half back and forth through your bedroom. Your heart is pounding and you’re practically shaking right out of the clothes you wear. A thick hoodie and a pair of loose cotton shorts hang off your vibrating frame, only because you decided wearing your sexy pajama set would seem a bit too presumptuous…perhaps even desperate. And it had definitely felt that way when you put them on earlier. 

Maybe you should change back. Maybe you shouldn’t care so much. The echoing knock is firmer this time and doesn’t give you time to think about it any longer. Because this man actually showed up on your doorstep.

You’ve hardly cracked the door open an inch and Bucky is already inside and shedding his leather jacket from his broad shoulders. He closes in on you until you’re forced to take several unsteady steps backwards into the dark, narrow hall. His hungry eyes look you up and down, sizing you up like a lion would its kill.

“What exactly are you doing here?”

Although you try to infuse some sort of playful, casual laughter into the question, the uncertain quiver of your voice gives you away. As does the way your eyes dart around, refusing to meet Bucky’s. He notes the anxious rubbing of your palms against your thighs and takes a slow step closer to you. 

Standing frozen before him, you gasp when he takes hold of your elbow and promptly marches you towards your bedroom. By the time you’ve turned around to face him, Bucky has already pulled his shirt up and over his head, the defined muscles of his torso rippling and on full display as he does so. Your mouth is dry and your brain is fuzzy.

“You changed,” he notes nonchalantly before gesturing at your outfit. “You’re gonna wanna take that off.”

Bucky utters the order so confidently and with no preamble that it nearly knocks you off balance. You know what’s happening, your brain just doesn’t seem to believe it. And so you stand stock-still, incapable of much more than staring. It isn’t until Bucky growls in frustration — clearly believing that you’re being coy or perhaps just stubborn — that you find your voice.

“You still haven’t said why you’re here.”

“Because…” he begins impatiently as he toes off his boots and kicks them aside. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night. And now…seeing how good I look on you is driving me crazy and making me wanna mark you all over.”

The admission is jarring. Almost as much as the cracking sound that shatters the silence in the room when Bucky unbuckles his belt and whips it free of his pants with one smooth movement. You choose to ignore his unashamed desire and opt to address the less detrimental part of his confession.

“Buck, c’mon,” you choke, somehow feeling even warmer. “It was just a kiss.”

“So?”

Your eyes meet his then, not sure how to respond to his unexpected challenge. The heat you find there nearly scorches you. You’re suddenly at a loss for an excuse that seems adequate enough to turn down the prowling man. Especially when you know you want this as much as he does, if not more. Still, you try.

“We were drunk,” you offer weakly.

It sounds like a question even to you and when Bucky quirks a dark brow, you know your reason has fallen flat. He regards you for a long moment, unbuttoning his jeans and revealing a trail of hair which dips below the illegibly branded waistband of his underwear.

“I wasn’t that drunk,” he assures, hair mussed and nostrils flaring. “Now, like I said…take that off.”

“Take…what off?” you mumble distantly.

You’re too distracted by the plethora of smooth, tanned skin to pay attention; too beguiled by the sight of his half-naked body and all that it promises to continue thinking. Bucky points a long finger in your direction, swirling it mid-air to specify that he’s referring to your baggy hoodie and rumpled shorts.

“All of it,” he barks. “Off.”

Ultimately, you obey Bucky’s request and though your limbs move as if filled with sand, they manage to shed your hoodie and shorts just the same. You’re left standing bare-chested in nothing but a pair of underwear that do very little to shield you from the lascivious perusal of Bucky’s hungry eyes. He mirrors your state, now standing before you statuesque and gorgeous in nothing but a pair of tight-fitting boxer briefs when he finally answers your earlier question. 

“I’m here to finish what I started.”

He breathes the words, his lips so close to your own that you can almost taste him. With barely an inch between you, Bucky’s eyes flicks to yours, silently asking permission. He shows no intention of closing the space between you, instead waiting for you to make that decision. You do so without hesitation and crash your lips into his with a sigh of relief at the familiar feeling of his mouth on yours.

In a flash, Bucky tears away and has you hauled into his arms to toss you easily into the middle of your soft mattress. You’ve barely stopped bouncing when Bucky’s strong body is braced above you. His hips settle perfectly in the space between your thighs; you can feel the heat of him there and the sensation is dizzying. Holding his weight on one hand, Bucky slips the other in the miniscule space between your torsos and hooks a finger along the elastic band of your panties. He tugs playfully at the material before letting it snap sharply against your hip.

“I did say all of it, didn’t I?” he taunts with a wry smirk.

“I didn’t have time,” you argue with a giggle that stops short when he allows his hips to drop so that you feel his hardness directly against your center. “I’m sorry.”

He hums against your skin as his lips trail from your jaw to your ear where he licks the sensitive lobe and nips gently at your skin.

“Shh…don’t worry,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. We can leave them on because if you take ‘em off right now, I am going to fuck the shit out of you.”

You’re uncertain whether the words are a promise or a threat, even more unsure which you’d prefer. With a pathetic whimper that curls warmly into Bucky’s ear, you feel his heavy cock twitch against your crotch. His lips latch hastily to the side of your neck and he suckles.

“Please, Bucky,” you mewl, wanting him to deliver on his threat. 

Threat…promise…you don’t care what it was, just so long as he follows through. To your dismay, Bucky puts a swift end to your hopefulness.

“No no no, baby…don’t beg,” Bucky coos almost cruelly. “You’re not getting fucked tonight.”

He punctuates the lowly-spoken words with a pointed thrust of his hips, grinding firmly against your core and beginning to feel the dampness of your sodden panties through his own underwear. You gasp then, sharp and sudden — the sound only partially prompted by the pleasurable sensation he imparts upon you. It is the widening of your eyes that belies the other cause for the breathy noise: Bucky’s unexpected denial. The complete turnaround has you reeling. If he notices your disapproving reaction, he gives no indication and instead continues his inauspicious words.

“I’m gonna make you ache the way I’ve ached for you. Gonna make you go crazy wanting me,” he breathes, interspersing thrusts every so often between the syllables. “Make you so desperate that you’ll do anything just for a little taste.”

Bucky hisses the last word and you flinch just as the rigid head of his length brushes your swollen clit through the thin layers of material separating you. Even without touching you beyond this, he has you near tears and yearning. He watches the pathetic tilt of your hips and the pitiful way your face crumbles, in awe over the way your muscles quiver and your body moves restlessly beneath him. You haven’t even seen a fraction of what he has planned for you and already you’re falling apart; the very notion has him clenching his jaw as his cock hardens painfully.

“Buck. Please.”

You whine — breathless and high — though Bucky continues as if you haven’t said a word.

“I’m gonna take you right to the edge,” he cups your ass, lifting and grinding your hips into his with a dramatic pause, “and then…stop.”

Before you have a chance to lament Bucky’s refusal to give you what he’s made you want, his strong hands grip your bent knees to gather your legs and arrange them over one shoulder so that the backs of your thighs settle along the hard ridges of his abdomen. With your legs pressed firmly together, Bucky reaches down to take himself in hand. He inhales through his teeth, allowing a few indulgent strokes of his throbbing cock before he aligns the glistening tip between the soft flesh of your thighs.

A groan forms deep in his belly, bubbling up until it fights its way out when his lips part instinctively. You watch, trancelike, as Bucky glides his dick rhythmically between your legs. In and out, over and over. Sweat gathers where your skin meets and Bucky’s grip on you tightens as fucks your thighs, taking a smug sort of pleasure in his endeavor to continue denying you.

As his thrusts increase in speed and the veins in his thick neck begin to protrude, you hope Bucky is suitably distracted and dare to lift your hips in search of some much needed friction. Bucky’s reaction is swift, immediate, and infuriating. He presses his weight forward, shoving you back into the mattress and effectively pinning you in place just as a strangled sound pours from him. 

Without warning, his hips jolt forward and his body tenses before becoming still. A wet warmth splashes against your belly and Bucky lets out a rush of breath while his body convulses and another rope of cum rains down on you. 

Bucky finally allows your legs to fall to the side, each one bracketing his corded legs where he still kneels above you as he allows his orgasm to wash over him. The fog lifts for you before it does for him and with the dawning realization, your desperation ratchets up a notch. Feral for some sort of release, you thrash with need and whimper with embarrassing anguish. Your body vibrates with the tension that blazes through your veins and you reach for Bucky, fingernails grabbing and clawing at his hairy thighs while you beg and plead for him to take you, touch you, anything.

Bucky had come here tonight with every intention of teasing and torturing you — a sort of retaliation for the yearning he’s felt for you — but seeing you like this is pushing him dangerously close to giving in. To fucking you the way you both want him to. However, he vowed not to fuck you tonight and he’s a man of his word. Still, he’s willing to show a little mercy. 

With a huff and a quick sweep of his hand through his hair, Bucky is shushing you. He shifts his weight and slides down until his striking face hovers just above your pelvis. From here, he can smell you and the faint aroma has his mouth watering in a way he thinks he ought to be ashamed of. He drags his fingers through the pearlescent splatters that dot your stomach while his other hand eases your panties to the side before he brings the slickened digits to your folds. Warm breath puffs against you when he whispers.

“I said I wouldn’t fuck you, I never said I wouldn’t make you cum,” he concedes with a dastardly grin.

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

[pascalpvnk]

take it from me

pairing: bilingual!joel miller x f!afab!reader

summary: joel is a simple man who simply finds pleasure in pleasing you.

warnings: moodboard used for aesthetic purposes - does not represent the reader description, 18+ MDNI, no timeline, no specified ages, no mention of sarah or ellie, LATINO JOEL (most translations within the text except for some reused pet names/common phrases). This is porn with minimal plot (but unrelated plot I canon—his favorite artist is Linda Ronstadt and I stand by it.), Joel maneuvers reader, manhandling essentially, no other descriptions of reader other than nipple piercings, body worship(?), Joel’s filthy fucking mouth, mention of thigh riding, oral (both receiving), unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, mentions of intense emotions, aftercare.

word count: 3.3k

HOW TO SUPPORT PALESTINE // IMPORTANT FOR TLOU READERS & WRITERS

a/n: fun fact, I’m a virgin, so if it seems far fetched it’s probably because it is. anyways, a special shoutout to ramon nomar for being the muse for this piece, another to @mrsswilliams for beta-ing and fueling my horny antics, thank you to my spanish teachers for guiding me to this moment (probably not your intention but I digress), and to you for taking the time to be here and hopefully enjoying! happy reading xx (banners & dividers by @saradika-graphics)

Addicting is the only word Joel Miller can muster up to describe you as his mind clouds with lust each night he’s alone, bucking into his own fist and spilling his sins after he’d met you. Of course you’re beautiful and charming above all things, but he can’t help the way his cock stirs after simply a phone call from you describing your day. How you miss him and want to meet up again soon.

Joel isn’t the brightest man, which he is very self aware of. But what he craves to learn about you, what your favorite flower is, favorite ice cream, your desires, outranks any level of intelligence a man could hold. He wants to please you, not for a superficial reason to use against you down the line. He enjoys your smile and the way your eyes crinkle, your dimple making an appearance on occasion, and it makes him feel good. The little things shine a light in his chest, ever the people pleaser.

However, he finds a red, hot desire to rouse you, make you squirm under his tender touch. To watch every fiber of control and tension dissipate from your being.

But he’s cautious.

He’s treading on thin ice within himself. He wants to give and give and give, but he’d never forgive himself if he overwhelmed and alarmed you. Your wit keeps him on his toes, tempting and trying his willpower to take things at a palatable pace.

But he’s just a man at his simplest form, a glutton for pleasure wanting to carve himself a home within you and give everything he has to please you. 

You found yourself perched upon his lap, a forgotten movie droning in the background as hands and lips explore new territory. Joel firmly guided your hips, firstly against his own, then he aided you across his denim clad thigh after you wriggled your pants to the floor. 

Choruses of Spanish praises, filth, ‘mamita, use me’, and phrases alike rolled off his tongue effortlessly as he found pleasure within your own. Consuming every moan, gasp, and ‘don’t stop’ you were so eager to give.

He struggled to deny your beautiful pleas to get him off as he had for you. You knew he wanted you to, there was no doubt in your mind considering the prominent bulge straining and begging you to. He reassured you, or rather made excuses for himself to ease the guilt he felt at your subtle disappointment.

I’m not coming in my jeans in front of the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.

You said you had work in the morning, anyhow. We outta get’cha home, preciosa.

Joel kissed you softly as he pulled up your pants, grabbed his keys, opened his truck door for you, waited at red lights, and finally as he dropped you off at your apartment building, sealing the night with melted wax, branding himself on your heart until you meet next.

Made it home okay, sweetheart. Hope to see you again soon.

And he does.

His head is already spinning at the thought of going out with you again. He’s showered, trimmed, even ironed his flannel before making sure it’s buttoned and tucked properly. Well rested is not one of the qualities he’s adorning—no thanks to you running his imagination rampant—but the adrenaline he feels, and the coffee he drank at noon, make up for his lack of preparedness.

At the end of the day, those things don’t even matter. Joel Miller makes it as far as his front door when you ring, bringing you inside with the intention of grabbing his own keys. His hands find you instead, your face in a gentle caress as he compliments your attire, your appearance as a whole, and your waist as he kisses you with increasing fervor. You don’t stop him, and he doesn’t stop himself.

“Ay dios. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you all day,” he mumbles against your neck, walking you backwards to his bedroom. His shirt wrinkles under your tight grip, suffocating him until you pop each button open one by one. You leave him in his black undershirt, half untucked in his dark washed jeans.

The back of your knees find his mattress before you even realize, forcing you to sit parallel with his waist. He takes his time, always calculated with his hands on every sweet spot he can reach. Joel cups your jaw, admiring your blown out pupils and the raw lust overtaking your features.

“Wanna take good care of ya, now,” he soothes. “Just say the word and I’ll stop, you know I’ll stop for ya, promise.”

It’s half of a promise to you, half of him asking you to promise to tell him if it becomes too much. You nod, reaching for him once again.

“No, chiquita,” he holds your hand to his chest. “¿Me prometes? You promise me?”

“I promise,” you say clearly and wholeheartedly. “On my life.”

With your renewed consent, he folds himself over to kiss you deeply. His tongue dances with yours, similarly to a few nights prior but with increased desperation. Fingertips graze up your sides, nerves twitching under his subtle touch, only unlatching your lips to lift your top over your head. His eyes fixate on the pebbled flesh and metal protruding your bra, making quick work of the clasp before removing it.

“I knew you had something hiding underneath this,” he muses, toying with the fabric of your bra between his first two fingers. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier, hm?”

Joel skims his thumbs on the underside of both of your breasts, attaching his mouth to your collarbone. He suckles your delicate skin, committing the taste of your sweet musk and desire to his memory. He softly licks over one of your nipples, taking in how your head tips back with a sigh. He brings it into his mouth, nipping and assuaging the pierced bud until you manage to free his shirt out of his waistline.

“Paciencia, amor. Patience, sweetheart, please,” he pacifies as he guides your hand out of reach from his belt. “Just wanna savor you. Can I?”

You nod and opt to tangle your fingers in his curls. Approval seeps through his smirk as he continues his ministrations for as long as he pleases, feeling accomplished each time your hips chase his.

Joel stands up straight, running his calloused hands over one of your clothed legs, meticulously pulling each shoe and sock off and tossing them to the side to find later. 

“Do I need a condom, baby?” He mutters against your knee, toying with the hemline of your pants.

You tell him no and quickly explain you’re clean and protected. Something in him visibly switches, desire becoming carnal. He clings tight to his sense of control, desperately willing himself to give himself to you, not give into himself.

Joel drags both layers of bottoms down your legs, watching you challenge him by keeping them clamped together. He exhales heavily through his nose, your limbs relaxing slightly, but just enough for him to retake control.

“Christ, looks like I was wrong again,” he sighs, smoothing his flattened palms over your open thighs. You can get prettier. “Oh she’s pretty, mamita. All this for me?”

A gasp falls between your lips as you’re tugged closer to the edge of the mattress. Your head spins, the only thought crossing it is Joel. His hands. His words. His filthy mouth and how it’s mere centimeters from where you want him to be. Need him to be.

“Joel,” you whine, feeling the scratch of his blunt facial hair on your inner thighs. His lips tease the sensitive skin around your pussy.

“What?” He coos, fingernails biting your flesh. “Dime, baby. Tell me what you want.”

It feels pathetic, you’re completely at his mercy, stripped down on his bed while he remains fully clothed over you. He has you in the palm of his hand, putty waiting to be molded and shaped however he pleases. Bliss has already warped your features, the anticipation of what’s to come already numbing your brain.

“I want you,” you cry simply.

“You have me, don’t ya? I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

Frustration bubbles in your belly. You’re truly not annoyed, but the tension might snap you in half before he gets the chance to.

“Want you to touch me,” you plead. “Want you to make me come, please.”

Joel hums with content, thumbs pulling your cunt open from the outer lips. A slick, sticky mess you are, hardly touched and begging to come. Arousal seeps from you, finding its way to your tight hole. You watch Joel wet his lips, the self restraint slowly dwindling from his gaze. 

“Show me,” he huffs. “Be good and fuck your hand f’me. Wanna see how you like it.”

The sound of his metal belt buckle clanking against itself is enough for your hand to fly below your hips. Relief floods your nervous system the moment you circle your clit, hips lifting and chasing the friction. Sighs leave your parted lips, eyelids falling shut with pleasure.

“Ah ah,” he corrects. “Eyes on me, beba. Sigue jugando con esa flor bonita. Mírame.” Keep playing with that pretty flower. Look at me.

You comply with his request, half lidded but maintaining eye contact nonetheless. Your fingers toy with your cunt lazily, eyes settling between his burning gaze and his taut boxers. His length strains beneath the thin fabric and his hand twitches at his side.

“I love watching you, mami,” Joel purrs. “Wish y’could see how perfect you look right now…perfectly wrecked just for me.”

His words egg you on, pace quickening on your throbbing clit. Moans spill from you as you watch Joel squeeze at his seemingly uncomfortable erection for his own relief. His other palm keeps your legs spread for him, kneading desperately at your thighs as you work yourself towards the edge.

“¿Quieres que te ayude, mamita?” Do you want me to help you?

Joel settles on his knees, both palms splayed against your skin to keep you pinned down. He licks a broad stripe from your asshole to your clit, sucking harshly on your labia before diving into your weeping cunt, all while audibly sighing with delight at your taste. Your hand instinctively rushes to grip his curls.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he grumbles while putting your hand back where he says it belongs. “Keep playing with yourself. Make this pretty pussy cry all over my face, cosa dulce.” Sweet thing. 

Your digits pulse against the nerve bundle, shocked by the sensation of his tongue swirling inside of you. It’s absolutely obscene. He slurps up everything you have to give, edging you until your legs clamp over his ears. Joel sings into your cunt, a delicious melody that sends you into a frenzy. Your walls flutter around him as he guides you through your orgasm, nose nudging your hand out of the way to make more room for himself.

Your gaze drops from the ceiling to his blissful face, thick eyelashes brushing his flushed cheeks as he savors you. It all begins to feel like too much as you grip onto his shirt. You pull the cloth towards you and he gets the hint, dragging his mouth away from your pussy and removing his top.

“So desperate to come, mamita, already finished with me?” He cants, smoothing a thumb over your kneecap.

“No- just need a breath,” you pant. You take in his features, broad shoulders with a strong chest, thick arms. His hair alone has you running laps, the sparseness of it littered on his torso and below his belly button, his curls tousled already from your hands, and his beard—fuck his beard—is absolutely soaked with your arousal. He makes no attempt to wipe it clean before kissing you. The taste of your cunt dances on your tongue as he licks into your mouth.

“Joel,” you sigh, his lips leaving yours and trailing down your neck. “I wanna suck your cock, please.”

“You wanna suck it?” He smirks, slipping his hand beneath his boxers before shoving them off of his thighs. His fingers slip through your folds briefly before he deposits your cum onto the tip of his dick. Mischief plays on his expression as he opens your legs once more.

Joel slowly stuffs his cock into you, not your mouth but your pussy. A gasp escapes you, morphing itself into a moan. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him in deeper.

“Thought you wanted to suck it,” he grunts with a devilish grin, grinding his hips down into yours.

“Hmm, I’ll suck it later,” you draw out with a smile.

He leans down to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, gently nibbling on the sensitive skin before pulling off. 

“God, mamita,” he exhales. “Love fucking this pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

His hips drive into yours at a devastating pace, only using a portion of his length to massage your pussy. You quickly adjust to him, allowing him to thrust deeper into you. You cry his name while simultaneously having all of the oxygen punched out of your lungs. Joel swallows your wails whole, moaning against your lips in return.

Your legs tense around his body, face twisting up with pleasure under the weight of his. Lips drag against your skin, anywhere he can reach. The room spins around you, eyes rolling back into your head as his hand snakes down to play with your clit. You desperately claw at Joel, gripping his curls in one hand and bruising his back with the other. 

“Dámelo. Give it to me like I want, sugar,” Joel coaxes. 

The bundles of twine prickling your flesh and holding you together in one piece snap, your body completely shattering into a million fragments underneath him. He stays buried inside you as you pulse around his cock, humming into your neck and soothing his hands over your burning skin. 

Joel gently settles onto his side near you, cupping your jaw and kissing you feverishly. You shift your body to face away from him, pushing back against his soaked erection. His eyebrows furrow, grunts of detest coming from him.

“No, mami, I want to look at you while I fuck you. Ven aquí, come here,” he corrects, grasping your arm to guide you to press up chest to chest with him. A brief hiss escapes him as the cool jewelry brushes up against his nipples.

“These’ll be the death of me,” he sighs, latching his mouth to yours once more as he maneuvers you the way he wants. 

His cock slips easily back into your wet heat, arms trapping your upper half against his as his legs anchor to the bed to buck into you. He grips onto your ass for leverage and you find yourself holding onto it with your own palm. It’s slower, intimate, reeling you in to take more, to take it all.

He draws another orgasm from you. Your heart thrums against his hardened chest, his pounding against the confines of his ribcage. He collapses on his back with a breathy groan, sweat perspiring on his forehead. You push back his sticky curls as he catches his breath this time.

“You still wanna suck it?” He chuckles cheekily, offering but not forcing. 

He’s surprised as you eagerly crawl down his body, curling over his thigh while taking his cock in your fist. Your back is to him once more, but beggars can’t be choosers, especially while he’s stuffed in your mouth so perfectly. His fingers drag along your spine, palm splaying flat to soothe the sensation quickly after. His hand stills and stomach flexes as you take as much of him as you can, pumping your tight fist over the remainder of his length.

“Fuck me,” he shutters mindlessly, “feels so good, amor. Treating me so good.”

The praises fuel you, moaning around his tip as he continues to trace shapeless trails onto your back. Your mind feels cloudy, not thunderstorms and impending doom cloudy, but rather a sunny, breezy, nothing could ever go wrong kind of cloudy. You feel taken care of for once, free to slip into a warm, blissful state with Joel. He feels safe.

“Come back, preciosa,” he grins as you make your way back up his body. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you deeply once more, running his hands gently all over your skin as you settle on top of him.

“Missed ya,” he chuckles, kissing your swollen pout a few more times before wetting his fingertips with his spit. He reaches down, circling your clit as his cock twitches against your seam. Your head falls beside his, feeling too heavy to hold up on your own.

Joel protrudes your cunt once more, nestling into you carefully at first. You writhe over him at the push and pull of his cock inside your fluttering walls, hips snapping down against his with subtle slaps of skin rejoicing. He picks up his pace beneath you, overwhelming your senses a bit too quickly.

You work your core to sit up, fully sheathed with his length as you grind against him. He grips onto your hips, watching you use him for your own pleasure. 

“Tan bonita, amor,” he hums smugly, his fingertips dancing along your bare thigh, his other hand tucked behind his head to prop himself up. “So pretty, mami, fuck.”

He tweaks his fingers against your nipples, pinching the pebbled flesh carefully as you ride his lap. Tufts of his neat pubic hair scratch at your clit, the friction of everything causing you to soak his lap further. You’re being pushed to your limits, throat dry and voice hoarse. Joel wishes to have put water on his bedside table, he would’ve had he’d known you’d end up here so quickly. 

“Doin’ okay, sweetheart?” He checks in, toying with your fingers that have found a home on his chest. You silently nod, eyelids low and face contoured with bliss.

“Think you can give me one more, bebita? Come on my cock one more time and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Your voice hardly sounds like your own, but you mean it when you tell him yes, please. He feels it when you clamp down on his length, his thighs tensing so tight they almost cramp. His legs hinge at the knee, body pivoting you forward into his chest. Joel grabs fistfuls of your ass as he fucks up into you, all of the air leaving your lungs.

His grunts and groans become less calculated and intentional, thrusts becoming sloppier and instinctual. You squeeze him tight, toes curling as you already tumble towards your impending high.

“Mierda,” he hisses, strong arms pressing your torso firmly to his. His lips consume your every breath, whine and borderline scream.

“Take it, use me, amor. Dámelo, cariño, and I’ll give you my cum. Take it from me,” he grunts sharply, pressing into you impossibly deeper and faster. Your skin bursts into flames, embers showering your body as he pulls that final high from you. You shutter above him, dead weight against his body as he uses you to finish himself off. He evacuates your warmth and pumps out his load between your sticky, worn out figures with a drawn out groan. 

Joel makes the first move to stand up, cock softening and hanging between his legs. He starts to step towards his en suite bathroom to find a towel, but you reach for him.

“I’m just gettin’ somethin’ to clean you up, honey,” he smiles before seeing a sadness in your eyes, longing for him to come back. Tears prickle your eyes and Joel quickly makes his way back to the bed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay, baby, cálmate,” he hushes carefully, holding you close to him. “We’ll getcha cleaned up in a little bit, I’ll make you whatever you fancy for supper and relax with you, sound good?”

A nod suffices his question, knowing you trust him enough to stay rather than run off eases him as he grounds you back to reality with his warm embrace.

to stay up to date on when I post fics, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications! i hope you enjoyed xx

[inupibaldspot]

Even 12 years laters,your soul was in a color of kindness.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : purely self indulgent which I wrote when I was drunk so— some stuffs are funky

Gojo first met you when you where four.

He was five years old at that time too and was being escorted by a maid to go to the clan head meeting; he assumes you were also part of a clan brought by elders.

Normally, the white haired boy never really cared for other people. Why should he? He is the chosen one. He has the limitless technique plus the six eyes of the Gojo clan. He was the closest thing to God at this age. But today it was different.

He watched you turn your head around and stare at him, he could vividly remember the way your eyes shone with amazement either for something as superficial like his white hair or the fact he was recognized as The ‘Gojo Satoru.’

But after that amazement, you smiled. You smiled at him so bright, with the evening glow of sunlights made you so—so ethereal. Your smile was childish and that’s why it was simply pure; the white haired kid’s eyes silhouetted with the sunlight shone with surprise for he found you beautiful in ways he couldn’t describe.

Gojo looks away— he beat himself for looking away as that made him look standoffish. When he looks back, you were staring at him confused for why he didn’t greet you back.

The maid beside you turns and says something, as you nod and then walk away. Was it weird for Gojo to wish you would simply turn to him and introduce yourself? For years to come, he prayed that he’d love to hear your name; for your soul was in a color of kindness.

That chance came in twelve years later when he was a second year of his Jujutsu Tech. Him and his friends, Geto and Shoko wanted to meet the new first years. There is Nanami Kento, had a huge stick up his ass but that it self made him to be forever victim to Gojo’s pranks. Next was Haibara Yū, a bright eyed kid but Gojo found him to be a bit too— energetic for his taste.

And then you. I didn’t really need to describe Nanami and Haibara first because the first and only person he saw ever since he entered the first year’s classroom was you. Simply you. You sitting on the chair smiling bashfully at them. At him.

Ever since, every day. Without fail would rush to your side. At first you were confused as that is not the Gojo you remembered l; the one you saw and described to you by others were not this.

Nevertheless it warmed you up like a cool evening sun.

Gojo released quite early was you were kind, the type that would help others despite of her time , the type who would help every elderly by the street, the type who would feed strays and yada-yada-flowers and rainbows.

But that led to another realization. Had you truly different been treated differently?

Gojo's body tensed up. Any comfortable vibe he had felt before vanishing in an instant. He had known very well that you were a kind-hearted human being. Welcoming and warm. That made you so interesting. Your soul was so calm and simple and nice.

And even though he had observed you so closely before he wasn't able to recall any moment anymore where your own feelings had been obvious. You didn't stutter around boys.

You didn't blush. You didn't hesitate in a way which could be trailed back to her personal feelings.

Were you treating him like everyone else after all?

“Gojo?”

Your voice brought him back to sense, you were blinking curious, leaned close—so close.”what’s wrong?”

“Bring out your hand.” He smiles, as you did without question. “Guess the word I’m writing on your hand.” He smiles when the warmth from your hand soothe his nervous heartbeat.

“Eh—I’m not good at kanji!”

“That’s just too bad—!”

From then when ever Gojo feels anxious of everything—everything in this world he would play this game, with your fingers and her palm because his focus on you was more gravitating rather than that as you were simply too calming.

Geto felt slightly hesitant when he saw the type of Gojo he would become when he was by your side, he was a tad abit careless as if all of his six eyes were simply focused on you, he would be a tad bit kinder to the point Nanami gets the ick.

Where as Shoko had a blast!

She would make way towards you, give kisses on your cheeks gushing on how cute you were, wrapping her arms around you as she then sends a condescending look towards Gojo who was literally drowning in jealousy.

Shoko and you got close early on and more so because you two were the only two girls in those years. To the point where even a shy person like you was influenced to sneaking into a party with Shoko.

“Please don’t mess with my hair curler, Gojo.” You say as you look into the mirror, fixing your earring and from the corner of your eyes you could see Gojo holding up a lick of his hair into the hot iron.

Gojo peers over and immediately regrets it, you were in a short dress and high heel, hair curled so—cutely and boy, your face.

He looks away.

No, too cute.

He thought as he lets down the curling iron. Shoko peers out as she lets out a puff of smoke before passing it to Geto, who takes the cigarette in his hands. “Don’t tell me you want to come Gojo.” Shoko says. “I want a girls night.”

Gojo remember almost comically crying into his pillows as Geto nags him on ‘how woman don’t like clingy guys.’ He decides to forget Shoko and join you guys anyways.

He remembers being strangled by Shoko while you him a nervous smile trying to diffuse the situation.

Your nervous smile which made the world freeze to him, Geto sighs at the love sick look his white haired friend was giving you, who seemed so obvious to.

But don’t you remember when I said you were kind. You were kind like to help the cornered kid, the type who would volunteer to be with the loner kid, the type that picked Geto Suguru’s side.

Gojo sighs when when remembers Shoko saying you said something along the lines of ‘I don’t want Geto to be lonely along the path he takes…’

How stupid!

Gojo Satoru where ever he went would go around town mentally keeping sense of any cursed energy which could relay you back to him.

He meets you again though.

12 years later, while him and now—principle Yaga were walking along the hallways they sense a breach in security. He rushes over to first, see his once best-friend Geto Suguru by his current first year Okkotsu Yuta and secondly, you. Your eyes we’re nervously flying around before it lands on him and once again he was yours; Geto scoffs at the sight of Gojo’s expression when he was looking at you. He was almost worried that if you said ‘let’s join Geto’ with a plea—se, he just might. You just had that effect on Gojo.

But too bad, Geto was here to request war upon the Jujutsu Tech. On the 24 December, Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.

Gojo rushes through curses as he makes his way towards you; and when he does, he feels as if he can’t breath. “Can you come back…?” He takes a step closer.

You smile nervously,shaking your head as you watch him take another step closer to you, you felt his hands reach out and cup your face. His face was so close to yours, you could feel the warmth radiate off him in the cold winter air. “Don’t kill me for doing this.” You we’re reminded that you guys were enemies and in a battlefield.

His face was closer now, his blue—beautiful blue eyes were slightly closed. You breath out. “I can’t kill you through your ‘Limitless’ Satoru…”

“Say it again.”

“Huh…?”

“My name. Satoru…”

You breath out. “Satoru…” The name you accidentally let out, felt so right.

“Fuck… say it a million time more, love.” Gojo laughs, slightly hoarse. “My limitless is never activated when I’m with you…”

before you realize his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft, as you hands were tentatively placed on his chest, as his hand trails along to your waist you parts your lips for him, sighs in his mouth, and that small sound of pleasure drives him crazy, floods his body with heat and desire so intense the strongest sorcerer can hardly stand.

Your are pulled away from him, when a darker and tall man goes by. “Miguel!” Gojo listened to you say.

“I need you to focus.” The man says smiling, before he takes a stance to fight Gojo. And to Miguel credit, he does fend off Gojo well, so— well that he was ‘recruited’ by him.

The day ends with Gojo losing two of his best friends in different ways. Geto would be gone, into the afterlife ended by his own hands.

But you?

Where were you? Would he meet you again 12 years later? Love?

[littledovesnow]

a growing family pt. 2

a/n: yay for part 2!! read part one here

word count: 1.8k

warnings: pregnancy, pretty canon-level violence and stuff i think. also i'm sorry in advance about this part <3

-----

"Now, Mr. Snow, you and your wife leave tomorrow for your District Tour." Lucky Flickerman spoke into microphone, eyes bouncing between Coriolanus and you.

Coriolanus nodded, not quite sure where this was going. He was briefed on the. main topics that Flickerman would go over during the interview and this was not one of them.

"Is there any worry about the twins? Congratulations, by the way! Twins! How lucky are you!"

You smiled, patting your husband's hand to signal that you would answer this question.

"Thank you, Lucky," you started, sweet smile on your face. "I've been in conversation with my medical team, and we've all come to an agreement that it's quite safe for me to travel with Coriolanus and the rest of his cabinet. I'm not due for another couple of months, anyway."

Coriolanus smiled at you, voicing his answer, as well. "We've also spoken to the OB/GYN, and she will be joining us on the latter half of the tour. We hope she can just enjoy the travel, not needed for any medical emergencies."

Lucky nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Now, Coriolanus, you've mentioned in some changes to the Hunger Games in the coming years. We've had questions coming in from watchers, but first, a few words from our generous sponsors."

The red light went off on top of the cameras, and you let the superficial smile fall from your face, hand going to rub your lower back.

"Your back still hurt, love?" Coriolanus asked, noticing your discomfort.

"I think our kids are going to be soccer professional, Coryo." You grumbled, one of the twins had been kicking mercilessly for a few weeks.

Coriolanus chuckled, removing your hand, using his palm to massage the area. "Well, you can tell them off when they're out here."

Lucky, who had been observing the couple from his spot on the seat across from them, wore a smile. "One thing that my wife asked I do when she was pregnant with Caesar was massage her back every night. Sometimes she still makes me do it."

You smiled at the TV host, humming. "Not a bad idea. Coryo, I think I know what your next job will be."

Coriolanus snorted, hand still massaging your back. "Anything for the mother of my children."

-----

The train car you were currently seated in was more luxurious than you remembered, seats having been upholstered from your last trip out of the Capitol.

You looked away from the mountain ranges decorating the horizon when the door opened, Coriolanus entering.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, coming to sit in the seat across from you, moving your feet from the seat to his lap.

Humming, you leant your head back as he began massaging them. "Better now. What was that meeting for? I thought you had travel days free."

Coriolanus pondered over how to answer, not wanting to tell you he had just had some rebels executed for a potential threat in Six. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Opening an eye to look at him, you could read the man like an open book. "How many were there?"

There was a beat of silence before Coriolanus spoke up.

"Four. Would have been three but some things you can't avoid."

You didn't reply, simply wiggling your foot when Coriolanus' hands stopped massaging the arch of your foot.

He laughed, resuming the action as you two watched the mountain ranges and nature outside of the train.

-----

You yawned, staring at the ceiling of the Crane's hotel in District Three. It was nearing one in the morning, and you had gotten a sum total of about two and a half hours since you and Coriolanus crawled into the bed.

Moving as quietly as you could, you rose from the bed, waiting a beat to see if Coriolanus woke up.

His rather loud snore told you he was still off dreaming, something you were thankful for. He had a lot on his shoulders, and you didn't want to add onto the never-ending pile of worry and stress with the upcoming election.

Moving to the bathroom, you softly closed the door and looked at yourself in the mirror. The twins had been keeping you up at night more frequently, and your OB/GYN said it was just because while they were starting to get a regular sleep pattern, they couldn't tell day from night and often slept during the day.

When you opened the door, you frowned when you saw your husband sitting up in the bed, cheek still indented from the creases in the pillow.

"What are you doing up?" He asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

Rubbing one hand across your ever-growing bump, sleepily blinking at the man across from you. "Your children are wide awake, it seems."

Coriolanus smiled, patting the spot you had previously occupied. "Come here, I'll rub your back."

With the promise of that, you made your way back into the bed, stuffing one of the many pillows on the bed between your knees.

"Oh, well hello, little one."

You looked at where Coriolanus was staring at your bump, tiny foot barely visible. "Oh that's the most disturbing thing I think I've ever seen."

"Don't say that!" Coriolanus chided, though there was a smile on his face. "That's your child in there!"

"Coryo, you shouldn't be able to see their hands from outside!" You laughed, even though your OB/GYN said it was very possible to start to see little hands and feet as there became less and less free space.

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your hairline, rubbing the place where the foot was. "Hi, babies. Please let your mother sleep, she needs to help me win over the hearts of Panem."

Rolling your eyes, you moved Coriolanus' hand to your back, letting your head fall back against a pillow. "Rub my back."

"Yes dear."

-----

Hand clasped tightly in Coriolanus' you two followed the Peacekeepers to the barracks to meet with the district's mayor and Commanding Peacekeeper.

You two had won the hearts over a majority of each District you've visited, but as you two traveled farther from the Capitol, you knew it would be more difficult and the chance of threats and rebels increased.

The number of Peacekeepers surrounding you two had grown within each stop, Coriolanus wanting to make sure nothing happened to his wife and mother of his children, his heirs.

"Mr. and Mrs. Snow, we're very pleased you two could be here!" The mayor smiled, shaking both of your hands.

You returned the sentiment, eyes locked on the plush-looking chair behind him. "Is it alright if I sit? My feet are killing me."

The mayor, who seemed to have just realized how large your bump had grown, nodded quickly, gesturing to the chair you had pointed to.

Coriolanus stood behind you, one hand smoothing your hair as he and the mayor discussed the afternoon's speeches and tour around the main hub.

"Will you be joining us, Mrs. Snow?"

"No, she's been feeling a little more tired." Coriolanus replied before you could speak up.

The mayor frowned, seemingly disappointed.

"Is there a problem?" You asked, feeling Coriolanus' hand still at the nape of your neck.

"Well, the children here have been so excited to meet you, but I'm sure seeing Mr. Snow will be just as fine."

Coriolanus knew you had a soft spot for children, how they still saw the best in everything. "Love, you barely slept last night. It's safer if you rest."

"Coryo, it won't be too long. And besides, we have a couple travel days I can catch up on sleep."

You ignored your husband's deep frown, instead smiling at the mayor. "We can't possibly let the kids down, can we?"

The mayor clapped happily, rising from his seat. "Well then, shall we go?"

You stood from the chair with some help from your husband, who placed a hand on your lower back, unable to keep his hands off of you.

"You're a spoiled brat, you know that?" He whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"And you love me for it." You replied, sharp smile on your face.

-----

Coriolanus watched as you followed a few of the schoolchildren around the classroom, letting them explain the backgrounds of their various posters and projects.

"She's going to be a wonderful mother." The mayor spoke, standing next to Coriolanus.

He nodded, watching you kneel down to listen more to a rather small girl, your eyes focused on her entirely. "She already is."

"Mr. Snow, Mayor, we're going to be late if we don't head for the town square now."

Nodding, Coriolanus walked over to your side, kneeling down next to you and the young girl. "Hi, love. Mind introducing me to your friend?"

You looked at your husband, and then at the young girl. "Coryo, meet Clementine. Her friends call her Clemmie."

Coriolanus saw the twinkle in your eye as you looked back at the girl. "It's lovely to meet you, Clemmie. You know, Mrs. Snow and I have a friend named Clemmie."

"Really?" Little Clementine asked, eyes wide.

Nodding, Coriolanus helped you stand up straight. "We do, but don't worry, we can have two Clemmies. Now, I do have to steal Mrs. Snow now, we have to go to town square."

Clementine pouted, but nodded. "It was nice to meet you!"

"You, too, Clemmie! Good luck with your new brother!" You smiled, squeezing Coriolanus' hand as the two of you followed some Peacekeepers out of the school and down to the town square and stage.

You've only seen the stage on television for the Reaping Ceremonies, it looked larger on screen. "She was so sweet, Coryo. She was telling me how her mother looked like me and now she has a little brother."

Coriolanus smiled, thumb rubbing your hand. "That's very sweet. I'm sure you made her ent-"

A loud explosion cut Coriolanus off, Peacekeepers immediately springing into action, separating the two of you to get you both to safety.

There were a few more explosions around the stage, sending debris and dirt in the air.

"Coryo!" You called, trying to wriggle out of the Peacekeepers' grip and find your husband.

You coughed as you inhaled smoke, eyes wide to spot Coriolanus. "Let me go! I need to find Coriolanus!"

"Ma'am, you need to come with us! We have orders to bring both you and Mr. Snow to a safe room, please cooperate."

You had a disdain for the Peacekeeper who spoke to you rather harshly, feeling his hands tighten their grip on your bicep.

Stumbling a few times, you had finally made it to the small bunker, heart hammering when you saw Coriolanus and the mayor already in there, dirt on both of their faces and clothing.

"Love," Coriolanus sighed in relief, though it was short-lived as he ran his eyes over your body. "Love, you're bleeding."

-----

a/n: oh how i love a good cliff-hanger

[azullumi]

"it's you hiding in limelight" ; aventurine

requested by anon — “can you do or already done pre-relationship aventurine headcanons? like what is he like before and how he warms up” premise — it takes a lot for him to trust someone. it’s a gentle and steady process; the fire burns slowly between you and him, and despite the uncertainty whether the flame is going to burn out or consume him in the end, he lets the warmth seep through the cracks of his soul. content tags and warnings — pairing: gender-neutral reader w/ aventurine | pre-relationship, fluff, a little word vomit, not proofread | wc: 0.7k ; headcanons

note from me — i was so conflicted while writing this,, and it doesn't help that i'm trying to figure out if my cat is pregnant or just fat...

It’s not easy to make AVENTURINE warm up.

He doesn’t trust anyone easily, seeing relationships as superficial, as something that is simply a give-and-take thing, a bet, a deal. He has quite a one-way view on relationships, only seeing it as something that would be beneficial to him—it’s not like he knows how to maintain such relationships either. He thinks that showering them with gifts, no matter how expensive, would make them stay, a key to securing loyalty and affection.

So when he finds himself slowly being drawn to you, being at ease whenever you’re around, as he initiates small talks and silly bets, he wouldn’t know how to break it down from there. You’re just so warm and easy to talk to, it’s comforting (like a gentle breeze). He simply keeps everyone at arm’s length, maintaining a careful distance, and yet, like a living paradox, he can feel intimately close at times to you—it’s his subtle flirting, consistent compliments, and often lingering touches.

He is hesitant in all of his bones, hard to grasp, complex and distant, but if you reach even for a little, he’ll let you hold him in your hands. He’s confusing; the thread of his words and actions are intertwined with each other but you can never find the meaning of it. It’s a heavy needlepoint of embroidery that can never be finished, a small part missing from the piece and you could never figure out what it is that you’re lacking. It’s not easy to tell if he sees you only as a friend or something more than that.

You need to be patient and persistent with him, understanding that he himself struggles with the idea of vulnerability; he fears that opening up to pain and disappointment, leaving him on his own in the end. However, over time, he eventually lowers his guard and allows himself to trust you, finding solace in your presence. When the two of you first met, his shoulders were always tense and he kept his emotions guarded behind a mask, but now, he lets go of what he carries even if it’s just for a bit, as long as it’s you he is with.

You can feel the distance closing in, the fine-drawn line of vulnerability and wariness seaming into one. You can almost touch the vanishing point between you and him, intertwining with each other, and you don’t fail to recognize the subtle shift in his actions, in his gestures, in everything about him and all that you knew.

It may be a small and mundane thing but his tendency to shower his “friends” with expensive gifts and asking to choose among which one that they would like—albeit he also does to you on some occasions—all contrasts with the simplicity of the tokens he gives you. He reserves a different kind of gesture for you, one that is laced with thoughtfulness and sincerity rather than the utter value of the gift itself.

Probably brought a bracelet one time and told you of it, but didn’t mention that it has a pair, a matching one, which he bought for himself (and never wore). He has it hidden in his drawers, amidst his precious items, only to take out from time to time to stare at it. It’s a secret he’ll forever take to his grave.

Your constant reassurance, gentleness, and kindness breaks down his defenses, the mask crumbling into unrecognizable pieces. He didn’t think he would trust someone this much, nor would he ever harbor such soft feelings—velveted affections, sweet sounds of laughter, benign words that buries itself in his chest, finding solitude in one another’s presence, basking in the warmth of it all.

Oh, to have someone see him beyond the walls he built, it scares him in some way—when you have forever listened to the chorus of condemns orchestrated by your mind, you’ll only think that you’re unlovable to anyone, that’s how it was for him, and yet to you, it comes easy as if he’s simply tangled threads that only needs to be unraveled carefully and gently. He didn’t know nor did he ever think that you'd see stars on his scars when he laid himself bare for you to see the marks that dusted his skin.

Aventurine feels like he could drown in the feeling. It’s a gentle tide that crawls to the shore and drags him along with the warm currents (the smell of blood is replaced with the taste of salt on his lips); a tender fire that burns slowly, and despite the uncertainty whether the flame is going to burn out or consume him, he’ll let the light in.

GRAH DRUM ROLLS PLEASE IM ANNOUNCING THE PRESENCE OF THE OUTSTANDING AND AMAZING FELI @dr-felitas (sometimes i type in your old user and wonder why it's not popping out and then i just go oh!) anyways, this is for you my fellow dry-talker npc,, i honestly find it cute that we're starting to adopt each other's mannerisms or texting language or pattern cause like i only started saying "right!?" (when i agree on something) because of you (back then i only say real or just nothing at all :D) and i think i began to use some of your vocabulary 😭. and somehow my ability to understand and read through typos are getting better all thanks to you 🔥🔥🔥 the world will end first before you even get to spell that word properly jkjk i love you with all of your typos, incoherent words, stupid autocorrect mwamwamwa (i say as if im im not the same) !! anyways you are a light in my life and you're one of the reasons why i still continue to pick up the pen and write !! you've been of great help and inspiration in my writings <33 without you, i probably wouldn't be able to get through the hell hole of last month, thank you. ily lots mwaa !!

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[pparadiselost]

could you write sae x reader x shidou? if not, then shidou x reader would be fine

and im absolutely inlove with dacryphilia.. so if you could include that too thanks ^^

deux et trois.

shidou ryusei x fem reader x itoshi sae your wild boyfriend has always been a handful, but him tagteaming you with a rather trusted teammate might be more than you can chew. warning(s): nsfw, dacryphilia, dubcon, exhibitionism, cucking, degradation (from sae) minors do not interact.

dating someone like shidou ryusei feels a lot like a dream come true in the conceptual sense. you could easily imagine a whole plethora of young women who would give up everything they ever knew to date a handsome, successful soccer player like him and to essentially live a guaranteed life of glamor and luxury. and this much was your reality, and it was a fact that you accepted with as much humility and gratitude you could. 

you were never someone who enjoyed letting such superficial things get to your head and pump your ego up; you falling in love with him and him falling in love with you was nothing more than chance, and nothing on the objective level separated you from any other girl in the world. 

and shidou treats you sweetly, a surprising contrast to his maniacal behavior on the playing field. he’s still energetic and gets a kick out of teasing you playfully whenever he gets the chance to, but everything he does shows that he cares for you. perhaps in that way you two are really meant for each other; he would never purposefully do anything to upset you, and everything he involved you with was because he genuinely thought it would be good for you.

his coworkers, be they opponents or teammates, also all treated you with a degree of respect. they were intimidating and constantly raring to go, as if each of them were starved beasts, but they knew that you were simply shidou’s lover but not him himself. you grew accustomed with some of them. isagi sometimes gave you a shy smile and a greeting, igaguri would beg you to tone down your boyfriend to no success, and even the icy rin would peer at you with his cold teal eyes and nod curtly in your direction.

but exceptions were always to be expected.

“hm…,” a callous voice hums to no one in particular from above you. “...i can’t say i knew what to expect from you, but this certainly wasn’t it, little demon. well, i suppose that is my fault for letting you have too much free rein.”

your core burns, and every part of your bare body prickles with heat and shame. you don’t know how this happened or what pieces fell into place to bring you here, but you were here nonetheless. shidou’s dick is stuffed into you, your boyfriend bucking his hips wildly into you while you’re perched helplessly on his lap, and your thighs are spread apart nice and wide to give the other man in the room a perfect view to how shidou’s cock stretches your pussy apart.

you recognize him vaguely. unlike shidou, this man’s face is unreadable and frosty. his jaw is set as if it were carved out of stone, beautiful but unapproachable, and long under eyelashes escort you mockingly upwards to his unimpressed eyes. his irises are the same shade of breathtaking teal that are rin’s, and your stomach flips.

“whaaaaaat, i thought i’d offer you the best!” shidou sings from behind you. you whimper as he leans forward, trapping you in between his arms and his toned chest. “c’mon, why are you acting so shy all of the sudden, sae-chan? if i brought you anything less than acceptable to your impossible standards, you’d call me all sorts of ugly names and kick me out!”

this whole thing is embarrassing. you’re already so shy about having sex with your boyfriend, let alone have sex with him while someone that might as well be a total stranger watch you bouncing on top of shidou’s dick like tomorrow doesn't exist. and you weren’t given much space to hide any of it either. the very instant you’d make an attempt to even close your legs, shidou would be spreading them right apart and bullying his throbbing length into you even deeper, as if to offer your stuffed cunt up to itoshi sae and brag about it to him.

sae frowns, and his pretty lips twist into something that almost looks like a scowl. the temperature in the room feels as if it’s mounting into a dizzying heat but also plunging into an arctic chill between the two men. “but to think you’d bring me your girlfriend… i’d be impressed, if it weren’t for the fact that you brought me such a perverted girl.”

your breath hitches in the back of your throat when he points an insult at you. you’d believe that sae hated you with an unspoken passion if it weren’t for the fact that he was also naked and you could see how his cock was hardening, his dick twitching slightly whenever you glance towards the midfielder with watering eyes and short-lived gasps escaping your mouth. still, his words hurt, and you can feel tears invade the corner of your eyes. you rapidly try to blink them away; you’re already ashamed of the fact that he’s watching you getting railed by shidou, let alone cry like a baby in front of him. 

“‘m not- ‘m not a pervert-,” you somehow manage to choke out, and your chest immediately tightens. you sound more like an out-of-breath porn star than you do the normally sweet and assertive girl that you are, and your gut spasms with shame. fuck, fuck, fuck! this shouldn’t feel good, you really shouldn’t be getting off to something as wicked and shameful as this. but the throbbing in your core tells you otherwise; you’re enjoying being watched as shidou dicks you down mercilessly.

as if on cue, shidou laughs heartily. you grip at his arm when he snakes a hand down to pinch at your clit. heat jolts straight up your pussy, and you let out a strangled cry.

“but isn’t she beautiful, sae-chan? looks like you hit a nerve with what you said to her. she looooooves to act all shy and cute, but i’ll have you know that she’s really fun to play with.” he fucks his cock up harshly into you as if he’s making a point, and you’re practically drooling from the way he forces you to take it, your pliant walls molding to the rough lovemaking he’s showing you, all of the pleasure making you feel lightheaded.

you’re not sure what to do. you feel so good, you love having shidou’s cock inside of you. and the new angle of having him fucking upwards into you makes your pussy drool with anticipating, desperate to cum. you want him all over you: touching your bouncing tits, torturing your clit, making sure your pussy only feels good from having his length inside of you. but as much as you want to lose yourself to this world-shattering pleasure, you can’t really succumb to it because of how hyperaware you are of the little voyeur in front of you. 

sae makes it clear that he’s observing every detail. his eyes glaze all over the curves of your body, and you shudder when he stares right in between your legs, where shidou’s fucking into you. it feels like he’s judging you, like he’s telling you that he clearly has the upper hand in the situation, and that you having sex with your boyfriend only exists for his amusement.

you try your hardest to bite back how much your eyes are watering. but everything feels too good, and you’re quickly crumbling in shidou’s arms. shidou’s doing his best to get you to cum. his mouth sucks all over your neck and leaves open-mouthed kisses on your skin, and you whimper loudly when he bites and sucks on your earlobe.

“n-not there…! please- ryu, i can’t take it! be nice to me… no- gonna cum-,” you moan out. you’re shaking your hips lewdly, and your inner thighs burn. but fuck, you’d be damned if you said shidou wasn’t making you feel good. like the dedicated boyfriend he was, he knew exactly what he needed to do to get you to fall apart. you’re crying out, and there’s a ring of frothy white forming at the base of his cock. his balls twitch under you, and your pussy clenches and tightens up ruthlessly around his girth when you start thinking about having him creampie you.

“gonna cum already? we just got started though! i promised sae-chan such a good show too…” shidou makes an exaggerated kissing noise, and one of his big hands squeezes encouragingly at your hips. sae lets out a quiet huff as if in disagreement, but there’s a few drops of prominent pre-cum that bead at his tip. you’re not sure if sae is a masochist or just downright prideful. probably both, but despite how red and angry his cock looks, he refuses to touch himself to the sight of you.

your vision is hazing over with tears. you really don’t want to cry, don't want to look weak in front of a stranger, don’t want to look like you’re falling apart this quickly. but trying to regain control of your body when so much is happening to you feels impossible, and everything is going to your head. your core is tightening up dangerously, and the pleasure is overwhelming every part of your mind. you whine and whimper, mewling like a wounded animal, and a few scalding hot tears slip past your lashline.

it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“are you… crying?” sae spits out the words as if they’re toxic and bitter in his mouth. you shake your head feebly and try to turn your face away from the redhead, but your body seems to answer instead of your mouth. your pussy clamps down on shidou with renewed vigor, and the boy lets out a gruff “fuck!” through his gritted teeth before laughing loudly and speeding his pace up. 

you hiccup. “no- ‘m not crying- not so fast, ryu, please…! you’ll mess me up, you’ll mess up my pussy if you fuck me like that-!! ah- feels so good- you’ll kill me- i’ll die from having sex with you!”

more tears are streaming down your cheeks, leaving hot trails as they fall. sae’s eyes are blown open wide, and something akin to fear settles deep in your body when you notice how entranced he looks. it’s like he wants to gobble you whole, like a man possessed by something unholy, and you cower against shidou’s chest as if he’s able to provide any protection.

shidou giggles delightedly against your ears. “you’re saying such lewd things… you’re making me really happy, did you know that? yeah? is your boyfriend’s cock making you feel that good? gosh, you’re so naughty… i didn’t know you liked my dick that much.”

you sniffle, suddenly feeling as if all the strength was being sapped from your body. you can barely see as the tears fall freely from your eyes, staining your face. you’re aware of how awful you must look, turning into goo in shidou’s arms as every part of your body shakes. it’s horrible and vulnerable, but at the same time, it turns you on so badly with a high so unexpected that you’re scared you’ll get hooked on it. it’s the kind of pleasure that runs so deep, you know it’s going to ruin you the moment you let it fully take root inside of you.

“gonna cum- please- please, slow down- not so deep, ryu, not so deep! i can’t take it-,” you squeak out. your head lolls back weakly against shidou’s shoulders, and you moan when shidou captures your mouth into a deep kiss. his tongue swirls all around your defenseless mouth, and you sob and cry all throughout the kiss. your pussy won’t quit squeezing and hugging his cock, and being kissed through it only makes you tighten up that much more. 

the friction is just so, so addictive. you want more. you need more. you don’t want anyone else to see you falling apart in such an unglamorous way, fucked dumb and reduced to tears over a man’s dick, but your boyfriend is determined to show you off to his friend and to rip an orgasm out of you one way or the other. 

a strand of saliva clings to shidou’s mouth when he pries his lips off of you, and he glances over at sae with a smug grin. “uh-uh, none of that, babe. i know you can take it, know you can handle my cock. look at you! you’re doing so good… it’s like your pussy wants my cock more than you say you do- don’t lie to me. bet you want me to cum inside you too, fill that pretty hole of yours up with aaaaaaaaaaall of my semen. what do you think, sae-chan?”

“do you think a girl like that deserves it? look at her, crying over something as trivial as this. does the thought of being watched make you want to cry?” sae’s voice is as sharp and cold as ever, and the edge to his words make you sniffle. “what a dirty girl… it makes me almost pity her. almost.”

shidou pretends to pout, and he sticks his tongue out. you moan, your cheeks feeling sticky and hot from all of the dried tears smoothing over your skin. everything feels heavy and good, your pussy being pounded into a senseless mess from how rigorously shidou’s fucking his cock into you. it’s like he’s trying to force more and more of his cock up into your tight hole, attempting to spear himself all the way in until your hips hit the base of his cock, like he wants his tip to pry open your womb and flood you with all of his cum.

“i don’t know what else i expected out of the big meanie sae-chan… well, too bad that i’m the one that’s actually fucking her. you can be mean and awful all you want, but i think i want to cum inside of my girlfriend.” shidou laughs against the shell of your ear. a cold shudder runs down your spine when he nips at your skin again, your neck and face vulnerable to his teeth. “ooh, you’re tightening up against me again…! fuck- so fucking tight- so eager for cock, huh? yeah, i like this side of you sooooo much… you’re just sooooo cute when you can’t resist me!”

you sob openly, not sure who to turn to for help. sae won’t lift a finger, not when his tip is leaking angry pearly white beads of pre-cum and not when he’s more fixated on the fat tears welling at your eyes than anything else. you’re no better than a prey animal when shidou’s like this, determined to creampie you and imprint himself even further onto your pussy. no matter how much you writhe and try to catch a moment to breathe, he pulls you down even further on his cock and sends a jerk of hot pleasure straight up your crotch.

“cumming-,” you choke out, your words slurred out. if you were any more coherent, you’d be embarrassed with yourself for letting another man watch you orgasm this shamelessly on shidou’s cock, thighs pried and held open so that sae doesn’t miss a single detail of your pussy being spread apart and stretched out mercilessly on your boyfriend’s length. “ah- ryu- i can’t hold it in any more… your cock feels- feels too good…! ‘m cumming- ‘m cumming, i’m cumming- fuck- oh- ‘m gonna cum- gonna cum- gonna cum so- sooooo fucking hard…!”

your pussy clamps down like there’s no tomorrow around shidou’s dick when he angles his hips just right and yanks you down as far as he can down onto his lap. you let out a loud cry as heat rips through your body as if you’re made out of nothing. your brain is thrown into overdrive, your nerves and synapses working overtime to flood every inch of your body with pleasure and heat, your stomach furling in on itself almost painfully, pussy gushing lewdly as your juices soak shidou’s cock and your hole spurts and drools out your orgasm.

it’s like something inside of you breaks. sex with shidou always felt good, but something about this felt as if you had crossed a point of no return. you shudder and shake, reeling in the newfound pleasure. it’s like the pulsing nestled deep in your stomach pushes and pulls, like a second heartbeat tugging you downwards. it feels good, it feels so good, and you feel like a broken shell of something that was before, unable to push past the fog in your brain or the haziness in your eyes. 

you can vaguely make out the sound of shidou’s adoring laugh, and you cry out once more when he grinds up against you, rocking his hips into your ass and keeping you stuck down and trapped on his entire length. you’re squeezing him so nicely, your pretty pussy all fluttering and desperate around him, clenching him and milking him despite how shy and insistent you are that you’re above all of this. but you aren’t, and everything in this room knows that.

“hah- ahhh, you’re gonna take it all, aren’t you?” shidou breathes, his voice suddenly high-pitched and tinged with a crazed lust he reserves solely for you. your breath hitches in your throat when he leans towards your face and buries his head into the crook of your neck, and he inhales deep, greedy breaths of your scent. his cock is about to burst, all swollen and thick and wanting nothing more than to stuff every inch of your cunt with his semen. “that’s my girl… take it all! it isn’t meant for anyone else!”

you nearly go limp in his arms when his cum gushes into you. you can feel it shoot straight into your stomach, quite literally flooding what feels like every part of your insides. it’s hot, and it burns. and yet some part of you inwardly croons at how good it feels, like your pussy was made to catch all of shidou’s cum and to store it deep inside, to feel it swirl around you and leak out of your pulsing entrance, dripping down shidou’s engorged length and joining with the rest of the ivory ring built up at the base of his cock from all of your lovejuices mixing with his as he fucked you like an animal gone wild. 

shidou smiles to himself as he lets you sit there, with no choice but to be impaled on his dick, and he makes sure most of his cum is safely lodged deep into your insides before he maneuvers you expertly off of his length. 

you feel weak, and your limbs dangle limply as you slump over onto the mattress. shidou presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head and wipes at your eyelids carefully, and you bite back a shudder when you see him lick your salty tears from his thumb. he looks down at you with a look laced with both love and desire, and you’re brought back to reality.

“i think i’ve given you a good show, sae-chan,” he coos, glancing towards the stoic redhead. “she’s all yours now! don’t have too much fun though, you hear? even though i like you quite a bit, it’ll make me sad to see my girl feeling too good from another guy’s cock.”

“your mind knows no limits,” sae breathes as if he’s annoyed with shidou, but he still steps towards you without any hesitation. you choke back a teary-eyed hiccup as he looms over you, and you let him grab onto your thighs and spread your legs apart. your cunt still feels spent and sticky, and globs of shidou’s pearly white cum drips from your fluttering hole. 

sae’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. you can’t tell if he likes the sight or not. he slots himself in between your spread legs, and he watches you with his pointed eyes. silently, carefully, like a snake laying in wait in the tall grass waiting for the moment you come down back fully to earth and understand the gravity of the situation you’re in.

your belly coils with the familiar thrums of arousal when his tip prods at your swollen clit. you let out a small gasp as sparks climb up your insides, settling somewhere deep in your stomach. you just had your brains fucked out by your boyfriend, your cunt spread apart by his thick cock, but you want dick inside of you again.

you wiggle your hips, and you think you see the edges of sae’s mouth twitch. he stares at you and the way shidou’s cum leaks out from your pussy and onto the tip of his cock.

“do you want it?” he asks plainly. you nod, knowing he’s going to be mean to you. he seems to get off on it, hurling insults at you and seeing your face stricken with tears. he seems like he’s just about to sneer at you, like he’s disgusted at the fact that he’s even in the same room as you, despite the fact that he’s literally grinding his slick cock against your sensitive folds.

“how awful. begging for another man’s cock right after having sex with your boyfriend… is this a part of some weird perverted fantasy you have? you two are perfect for each other, did you know that?” he clicks his tongue. you shudder uncontrollably. the edge to his words are sharp, and despite bracing yourself for it, you can feel hot tears kissing the corners of your eyes again. it hurts, it laces against your heart, but fuck, you’d be damned if you said it didn’t turn you on a bit.

your tears hang heavy off of your lashes, threatening to drip over your waterline, and for the first time since you’ve bared yourself to the two men, sae’s expression actually softens. you sniff pathetically, unable to form proper words, but he grabs at your hips. he leans in, and you stiffen, unsure whether to avoid him or to let him continue to come closer. you’re mesmerized by how unrealistically beautiful the redhead is: the fiery red strands of his hair are nothing like the icy turquoise of his eyes, and if you weren’t already so overwhelmed with the sensation of having an orgasm ripped from you and another man on top of you, you might have been starstruck truly.

his lips part slightly, and his tongue sneaks out from between. you clench your eyes shut, and something warm laps at your eyes, stealing your tears from your face. 

pressure taps at your cunt, and you let your head go limp as the stretch of penetration slowly grips you all over. you should be tired, should be worn out, but as the dull pleasure flickers inside you again, you find a moan bubbling up in the back of your throat. god, taking dick feels too good for you to ever not want it this badly. whereas shidou is always quick and skilled at drawing out an orgasm from you in record speeds, sae takes his time in penetrating you. it’s like he wants you to feel the stretch, wants you to feel the presence of his cock as he slides himself into you, and while your walls envelop his girth fully, he laps greedily at your heady tears.

“ah- sae…! ah- please- fuck me…,” you choke out. he bottoms out inside of you, and you can feel his balls pressed up against your hole. one hand reaches down, and you clench up around him when two fingers start to slowly rub circles into your puffy clit. it’s simultaneously too much and not enough at once, feeling him play with your clit while not moving his cock. the tender wetness of his tongue gliding over your face makes your head spin, and your pussy won’t stop gripping onto his length.

he breathes over your cheeks, the hot breath leaving you shivering. “dirty girl… who said you can demand things from me like that? shidou might let you get away with things like that because he likes it, but i’m not an easy man like that.”

“please-,” your voice sounds strained and needy, unlike your normally sweet but still firm cadence. “having your cock inside of me feels good- wanna feel more of you, please… please fuck me! i wanna feel you thrusting into me- wanna feel it, wanna have more of your cock inside- please, sae, please…”

“you don’t get to tell me how to move,” he hisses. he throbs and twitches inside you, and you can feel his balls tense up against your ass. but he draws his hips back slowly, giving one slow stroke, and that’s almost enough to make you fall apart. you throw your head back and let out a drawn out whine, your cunt fluttering violently against his swollen cock. he’s being mean to you, he’s being so, so mean to you, but your pussy feels full and good when his dick’s kissing your deepest parts.

if shidou had been pounding into you, sae keeps you begging for more. he treats his dick as if it’s something for you to earn, despite how he grinds upwards into you, the leaking head of his cock pressing straight into what feels like the entrance of your cervix. he keeps degrading you, muttering words that swim straight through your ears, and you keep crying those beautiful pearly tears that mar your vision and stain your cheeks. it drives him crazy, to break down such an innocent, beautiful girl into the worst, senseless version of herself, and he makes sure you know it, feel every second of it.

his pace is a bit faster now, but far from the animalistic sex you need to feed this uncontrollable side of yourself. the sound of your bodies connecting is nothing short of obscene, and sae drinks it all up as if you’ve mixed it personally just for him. you might as well have; you were meant to be offered up to him like some kind of sacrifice on a silver platter from the start, before you were even aware of the predicament you would be in.

“harder- harder- want more- please, fuck me harder…!” you sob pathetically. it’s humiliating, having to beg for a man’s cock in such a demeaning manner. you know words alone can’t convince sae, so you press your aching thighs apart further, using your hands to press them closer to your chest. the change in your position has his cock hitting deeper and more roughly into you, and your moans go from desperate cries to throaty chokes. you feel like you’re suffocating over your own breath, but the way you buck your hips against sae’s proves that there are far more pressing things in your mind than self-preservation. 

sae grits his teeth, and he slams his hips into you. his cock pumps in and out of your greedy hole, and your cunt grips onto him like it doesn’t want to let go. fuck—it almost makes sae mad over how good your body feels, especially after getting what feels like shidou’s sloppy seconds. his abs tense up as he sucks in a deep breath, the focus in his teal eyes starting to shake around the edges.

“thank you- thank you, thank you, thank you-,” you pant out helplessly when the full strokes are finally, finally where you wanted them to be at the start. you shake your head back and forth, entire body trembling and overwhelmed by the pleasure that consumes you. “feels so good- cock feels so good inside of me, sae- want to cum on it… want your cock to make me cum- make me pussy cum…!”

“you really are the worst,” sae laughs. his hair is sticking to his forehead, and despite how awful he is to you, he looks beautiful. “begging for another man’s cock in front of your boyfriend? don’t you have any sense of shame?”

“feels good-,” you weakly choke out, as if that was an excuse. you know shidou doesn’t mind. he was the one to drag you into this mess in the first place. sae really enjoys this farce, this holier-than-thou act, when everyone in the room knows that he’s just as twisted and depraved as you are. it takes two to have sex like this, and you sure as hell aren’t alone. “make me cum- please, i wanna cum…! i’ve been so good for you.”

sae hums to himself. his cock pulses inside of you. your pussy’s just as shameless as your mouth is, milking him every second he stays buried into your hole, and it feels like your inner walls are begging him for his cum too. you must really like being treated like this, your pussy filled up over and over again with cum, not caring if it was your boyfriend or a man that your boyfriend happened to feel comfortable handing you over to. what a greedy girl you were.

“you wanna cum?” he sneers. “do you think you deserve it? all you’ve done is lay there and cry and take my dick. so demanding…”

you shudder, seeing stars. you can feel your orgasm building up and laying in wait deep in your belly, just begging for a few more harsh thrusts to topple you over the edge. shidou had fucked you out so good before, and you needed a taste of that pleasure again. you already felt so good stretched out and humiliated like this on sae’s cock that you could only imagine how much better finally getting your release would feel.

“you’re so mean to me… just wanna cum-,” you sniffle out. your voice wobbles, and sae grunts when a fresh wave of tears threaten to overtake you. it’s embarrassing how a crying girl might be the thing that gets him to snap, so he grits his teeth and bucks his hips harshly into you. 

it’s your fault. all of this is your fault. he can’t admit to himself that this turns him on, that seeing you sob and wail and writhe has him wanting to blow his fat load inside of you. that would be too much for him, to cum inside of you and then have you cry just from the sheer pleasure of it. to take dick so good that it makes you fall apart and bawl senselessly as if you’re his girl, not shidou’s.

“yeah, that’s right-,” he grunts under his breath. “go ahead and cum then. if you really want to end up as a mess on my cock, then i’m not stopping you. make a show for your boyfriend then, huh? let him see you crying and screaming from how good you feel on my dick. you have him to thank for landing you in this position to begin with.”

you swallow back a shaky inhale. your vision had been blurred over a long time ago, but right now, with your entire body weighed down with nonstop arousal, you feel like you’re seeing stars. it feels so good and it hurts, but it hurts in a way that has you moving your hips lewdly and wanting him to stuff your already cumdrenched pussy with his load. 

he thrusts sharply in you. again and again and again, until his entire length is stretching you and bullying your cunt open, his cockhead slamming into your g-spot over and over until the pangs inside of your pussy start pounding against the inside of your skull. your moans are melting away into incoherent slurred noises, barely gasping out his name.

“sae- sae…! ohhhhh, fuck- fuck, so deep- so hard…” your body shakes, and your voice sounds unrecognizable. sae likes this too much, likes seeing how broken you are because of his own machinations. he grits his teeth, the bed shaking and his pace nearly falling apart, his thrusts messy and awful and everything you need.

you cum with a silent cry. your back arches, and your hands scramble to try to grip onto anything to steady yourself. your fingernails dig into your own flesh, your thighs aching and screaming in pain despite the numbing pleasure that crashes entirely over you. fuck, everything feels so fucking good, and your brain feels like it’s melting out of your ears as your orgasm grips every one of your synapses. tears glide down your face without any restraint, and your sobs echo throughout your ears as you turn into a truly fucked out mess.

sae grunts, his own voice low and muffled, when he feels your cunt clamping down on him and a sudden warmth engulfing his whole cock. his self control wavers when he feels you creaming around him, your pussy milking his cock. it’s like your walls are clinging to every inch, every ridge of his length and refusing to let go, pulsing all around him like you want him to unload inside of you and paint your insides completely white again. of course you do, you’ve been begging for it this entire time. being creampied once by your boyfriend isn’t simply enough for you anymore, sae knows, you need him to do it again and to overwhelm you with his twisted desire.

you gasp when he fucks you roughly through your orgasm. it’s almost too much, your stunned cunt keening with overstimulation when the faint sparks start flying again. sae mutters something you can’t quite pick up, and he slams into you hard, enough to have you recoiling backwards.

his cum explodes inside of you as he hangs his head, his breathing unsteady as he stays buried deep inside of you. it’s as if he wants to drown out shidou’s cum with his own, scalding lines of white cum. it’s blasphemous, how good it feels, and if sae wasn’t feeling so out of body right now, he would be mad at the fact that a mere girl—shidou’s girlfriend, no less—could knock him off of his high throne like this.

you don’t get any reprieve from the whole thing. sae yanks himself out of you the moment his grounded rationale seeps back into his brain, and you whimper in protest. your spent hole feels so empty without a cock to stretch you out, but you feel dazed and heavy and warm. their cum mixing together fills you up, and some of it leaks out of you in a lewd rivulet, dripping in such a tantalizing manner down the flesh of your ass.

sae leans over to grip your face harshly, tilting your face so that you meet his eyes. his hold on you tightens to an almost painful extent when he sees the final remnants of your tears swimming in a clear layer over your puffy eyes, the evaporated marks on your damp cheeks, your lashes wet from everything that you had faced. 

you’re pretty, pretty when you’re stained with cum and tears and all of the filth that sae’s dumped onto you.

shidou slinks up behind him with his usual strange smile, and he snakes his arms over sae’s neck from behind. “what a good show, sae-chan! my girl’s amazing, isn’t she? look at her now… ooh, it makes me want to fuck her all over again.”

sae sucks in a deep breath as he watches shidou prance over to you to press a sickly kiss to your forehead, and his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. shidou peers up at sae as if to mock him when he kisses your eyes, the taste of your salty tears spreading across the inside of his mouth.

it’s irritating. it’s annoying. his cock stirs again, and his lower stomach flares with warmth again.

was this the game shidou had planned from the start? sae didn’t care; the result wouldn’t have changed. the only certain thing now is the way these two men circle you like a pair of vultures descending upon their next meal, the hunger in their eyes primal and filled with an unspoken anticipation. you should be cowering away from the intensity, but you’re right there with them.

shidou giggles as a large hand caresses your bare knee. “that’s a good girl… now that you’ve taken each of us individually and sae-chan’s gotten all nice and warmed up, it’s time to get to the main event, don’t you think?”

“...the way you talk about it like it’s some game makes my skin crawl,” sae’s cold voice sighs. something sticky and hard brushes against your calves when two hands coax your legs open again, and your cunt clenches weakly with arousal, heat licking around your insides shakily. your cunt, still leaking with cum, is bared fully for the two men to enjoy in their own respective ways.

you close your eyes momentarily, your tear-filled vision finally turning to black. 

“ready to take both of us at once?”

if you enjoyed my writing and would like to show appreciation, you can do so by donating to these vetted gofundmes to help families!

[zhaobear]

28 (teaser)

It takes you 28 weeks to leave Kim Gyuvin, but only 28 days to run right back.

PAIRING : kim gyuvin x fem reader

GENRES : fluff, crack, eventual angst, with a happy ending, enemies to lovers au, strangers to lovers au, rich girl au, bakery au, falling in love in france!!

WORD COUNT : 1209 (teaser), estimated to be 20k

SUMMARY : when you pack your bags and move to france on a whim, you don’t expect just how many challenges you’ll meet — whether it’s your difficulty in adjusting to the new country, the harsh truths of the fashion industry, or most infuriatingly, pastry chef kim gyuvin, whose immense talent doesn’t stop you from deeming him the bane of your existence. despite yourself, his shop soon becomes more of a home than you’d like to admit, as gyuvin’s delicious creations and honest words slowly worm their way into your heart and show you that affection is more than just a monetary transaction.

WARNINGS : profanity, might be suggestive, red hair gyuvin x blue hair mc, mc wants to go to fashion school and gyuvin owns a pâtisserie (both are 20), mc is a bad bitch but sometimes superficial/spoiled but!! has char development, gyuvin shows love by being a little shit, i apologize for the banner graphic design is not my passion

AUTHOR'S NOTE : happy gyuvin day!! i wanted to finish this whole fic for his bday but i'm not quite there yet so take this teaser <3 if anyone wants to be tagged for this lmk and i'll start a taglist! i'm super excited to finish this fic even though gyuvin already got rid of his red hair......i will pretend it's still there

"NOT TO BE RUDE OR ANYTHING, BUT COULD YOU MOVE THE CRYING SOMEWHERE ELSE? YOU'RE AFFECTING BUSINESS." 

Your mouth falls open. Out of all of the words you expected to hear from the employee with the red hair, these weren't at all what you imagined.

The sheer nerve of a stranger — you can’t help but fume. Your status has led you to experience all sorts of men,  most commonly the kind that fall to your feet at first sight, begging you for a mere minute of your time. You’ve unfortunately experienced their rotten sides too, particularly the petty insults and misogyny that come with your industry. You’ve also experienced the raging anger when they realize you take too much pride in yourself to become their dolls. 

But to be insulted so brazenly on the first meeting, given your name, your reputation — men do not dare. 

“Well, excuse me for choosing your store to have a mental breakdown under. I couldn’t exactly—”

“Excused.”

“What?” You seethe, your face growing hotter by the second. 

“You’re excused,” the boy repeats simply, before turning back to the door. “If you want to sit inside, you’re welcome. Please just don’t cry outside of my shop,” he calls over his shoulder. 

The door closes behind him before you can even say anything back. You’re frozen in place, shocked by the pure shamelessness of the boy. Surely no manager would let their employee act this way? You’ve never been much of a Karen, but you’re tempted to find out. 

Finally, you look inside the store, peering through the glass door. Despite yourself, you’re pleasantly surprised upon the realization that you’ve stopped under a pâtisserie. Although none of the French bakeries have made any lasting impact on you, the decent crowd inside the shop has to amount to something. 

A variety of pastries are neatly lined on the glass shelves, clearly crafted with great care and intricacy. Almost all of them are unfamiliar, but your mouth waters anyway. You didn’t even know it was possible to crave something you’ve never had. 

You observe a flash of red hair saunter behind a door at the back, and all your cravings disappear. That bitch. You’d rather die than sit inside the shop and let him win, but you cajole yourself with the thought of making a complaint as soon as you find the right person. 

You push the door open, greeted by the bell that chimes overhead. 

Warmth. 

That’s your first impression of the store, and it’s not just the significant temperature difference. Something about the aura of the shop itself, the quiet but contented chatter of customers and the soft music spilling through the overhead speakers — you hate to admit it but it gives you a sense of comfort you were missing in the past three days. 

You shake your head. Pull yourself together. 

You storm past the line of customers, immediately met with their indignant shouts and protests, and stop in front of the young boy manning the register. His eyes widen, flitting back and forth between you and the customer he was helping. 

“Miss, I—I’m sorry but you can’t just cut in line like that…” he trails off nervously. His expression makes you think of a nervous rabbit, cornered by prey twice his size with nowhere to go. Twitchy nose and all. It’s kind of cute, and a part of you feels bad. You know he didn’t do anything wrong, but maybe the intimidation will get him to help you faster. 

“I need to speak to your manager.”

The boy balks, clearly unsure how to respond. He covers his confusion with a small smile. 

“I’m sure whatever it is, I can assist you. Can I ask what the problem is?”

“Look, I appreciate you trying to help, but the best thing you can do for me is just get me the manager,” you huff. “Please,” you tack on awkwardly, feeling worse at the small flash of hurt in his eyes. The boy nods and leaves, disappearing behind the door at the back of the store. 

You tap your foot impatiently, ignoring the string of curses the customers in line direct at you. Already irritated with the amount of time they’re taking, you consider leaving, about to turn around until the door finally swings open. 

However, you’re not prepared for the man who emerges from the back. You gape at the sight of the red-haired boy, who raises an eyebrow at the sight of you, giving you an infuriating once-over. 

“Is something the matter?” He asks coolly, like he didn’t insult you mere minutes ago. Like you’re just a regular disruption and not — not you. The heir to one of the most widespread fashion companies in the world. The girl with everything. 

“I asked for the manager,” you hiss. But the boy’s face only brightens at the word, a casual grin spreading across his face. 

“Looks like you’ve found who you’re looking for,” he replies, raising his hands. “Manager by day, chef by night. What can I do for you?” 

Your hand clenches into a fist against your will, the need to punch the cheeky smirk off his face overpowering you. You hold yourself back, instead matching his attitude with a sickly sweet smile of your own. 

“I thought most managers were aware of basic customer service. But I suppose I expected too much from a hole-in-the-wall place like this,” you simper, watching his face turn the same shade as his hair.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” the man splutters. “I—I have five star reviews on Google!”

You try not to snicker at how quickly you’ve caught him off guard, schooling your expression into something that you hope is cool and unconcerned. “Well then, I’m sure Google would love to hear my thoughts instead. No use being here if I can just put a few dents in those five stars, right?” You shrug noncommittally and turn around. 

“Hold on,” the boy says, a hint of desperation in his voice. You face him, trying to smother the smug smile threatening to overtake your features. “Would a free pastry help?”

“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “I don’t know. None of the pastries in Paris have been particularly outstanding to me yet.” 

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be a problem here,” he answers, smiling. The smile looks genuine enough, but you notice it doesn’t reach his eyes. His gaze is stuck on you — calculating, wary, like he’s still trying to make sense of you. “Yujin-ah!” He calls out without taking his eyes off you. The boy from earlier emerges behind him, refusing to look at you.

“Yeah?” He glances at the redhead with a lingering hint of that bunny-like anxiousness. 

“Get her a kouign amann on the house for me, please.” He finally breaks eye contact with you to look at the smaller boy with a gentle smile that you can tell is reserved for him. Yujin nods, hurrying to grab the pastry. 

“If it’s not to your liking, you can mention me personally in the review. The name’s Kim Gyuvin,” the redhead says, giving you a maddening wink before walking away. You splutter at him indignantly, but to deaf ears as he vanishes behind the back door.

[jaylaxies]

CONFLICT OF INTEREST

PAIRING: pool cleaner!heeseung × rich fem!reader

GENRE/CW: slightly perv!heeseung, profanities, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), slight voyeurism, mentions of sunghoon, slight public sex, fingering and cunnilingus, penetration, usage of nicknames and degradation.

WC: 6.7k (6701) words

SYNOPSIS: spending all his money on video games, heeseung was left with no other choice but to work part time to earn some extra cash, he was overwhelmed to find out how much your father was willing to pay for a pool cleaner, grabbing that opportunity and applying for the same, not knowing that he’d be dealing with a spoiled little princess, who’s also a feast for his eyes.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: ohmygod hello everyone, guess who’s back after the longest break ever! i missed writing so much and i couldn’t come back here without a fic for y’all sooo have this lil gift from me! <3 also thankyou sm @criceofpain for helping me w the title! i hope y'all will enjoy this! :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are so highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all <33

Silence.

That’s all you heard after waking up from your cozy sleep. Living in a mansion like yours would be everyone’s dream. Having rich and working parents only added on to that, giving others a misconception of how your life would be full of freedom.

You had more than fifteen rooms in your ‘small mansion’, three of them being reserved for the stay-in staff. They felt more like family to you than your own family did, your parents being absent whenever you needed them the most, you could count the times you saw them in a year.

Which brings you back to how you developed the need to be a brat — to grab your parent’s attention. It started off when you were a kid, stayed as you grew up into an adult, coming to a stage where you completely disregarded other’s feelings, not having in you to pay attention to them.

Being called a ‘rich brat’ was something you’d grown accustomed to, no one tried to get close to you in order to find your true personality, they only came for money and a short lived reputation of being your ‘friend’.

“You have to stop texting while eating, darling,” your mother’s voice boomed up in the expansive area of your dining room.

The irk in her usual dulcet voice was enough for you to understand that her current tone was laced with disappointment, your father barely speaking anything as usual, plausibly not finding you important enough to waste his energy on.

You simply hated when your parents were back at home, invading your personal space, it was one of the rare times they came back without much of an announcement, ruining your whole week, knowing they’d pass comments which would lead to massive breakdowns and again, not a single soul would help you through it, you’d be alone, as always.

Instead of eating, you found that playing with your spoon and salad would be a better option, your appetite leaving the second you learned about your parent’s arrival.

They were quick eaters, leaving you to eat by yourself soon after ruining your day. You sighed, getting up to shower, punching the hard tiled wall to release your pent up frustration, secretly hoping to find someone who’d care for you genuinely, unlike your parents who did so superficially.

The weather was rather breezy, clouds covering up the sky, resembling your mood in a manner. You were quick to dress up in your newest Chanel outfit, matching it with the perfect pair of heels you could find in your never ending walk-in closet.

Dressing up was therapeutic for you. It gave you confidence to portray yourself just how you’d wanted to, strong and bold, not requiring anyone’s support.

Isa:

Let’s skip the first lecture today :3

You:

Can’t, my parents are back at home, and if they find out abt me leaving the class thennn :)

Isa:

Babe oh no, I’ll save you a seat and get a frappe for you :(

You:

You’re an angel truly, mwah <3

You smiled, locking your phone and getting into your car, deciding to drive by yourself today. Isa was your best friend and you’d swear she was the only person who understood you on the spiritual basis, having gone through the same story of having absentee parents.

The difference would be your personality, hers being sweet and bubbly, yours being bratty and intimidating. You complemented each other perfectly.

The guards opened the gate to your mansion for you to drive away, your eyes rolling at the sight of a poster mentioning how your family needed a pool cleaner.

“Why did they build three pools if they couldn’t even maintain it, bet they haven’t once used it,” you muttered under your breath.

You didn’t notice a boy stopping by to read the very same poster just as you drove away.

He was quick to click a picture of the very same, making sure he doesn’t forget the details given below, walking further towards the mansion adjacent to yours, waiting in front of the huge gate which opened up as his friend came into view with his car, asking him to get inside the car quickly.

“The fuck were you waiting for there? We’re late already!” Sunghoon asked, running his hands through this hair as he stepped on the accelerator.

“I’m broke,” Heeseung explained, causing Hoon to laugh out of nowhere.

“Yeah? Spent all your money on video games again?” He asked, amused.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, “yeah, but it was a limited edition and I had to get it!” He argued, “and now my parents have decided to not give me pocket money for the whole month. I’ll have to earn it someway or the other.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you were standing in front of Y/n’s place.”

“Y/n? I don’t know, I saw this poster saying that they needed a pool cleaner and the amount they’re willing to pay is huge,” he explained, already deciding that he’ll apply for it the first thing after school.

“You don’t know her? Where the fuck are you living dude?” Hoon gave him a look.

“What’s so special about her? Is she hot?” Heeseung asked, looking at Hoon who shook his head in disappointment at his friend before simply smirking.

“You’ll see.”

Heeseung wondered if he’d get to see you today. The chances were high with the onset of summer vacation, you’d be at home, however he wasn’t sure if you’d come into his spectrum of vision, he always seemed to miss you by a minute or two.

He was at your place, the guard allowed him to enter and guided him towards the pool area.

He was in shorts and a casual T-shirt as his job would most definitely cause him to get wet while getting the pool cleaned.

His lips were bitten in concentration as the house helper guided him as to how to go on about his task, and soon, he was whistling while waiting for the water to be drained out after he used the net to get the leaves and the particles floating around on the water surface.

He decided to sit down on the sunlounger while waiting, scrolling down Instagram to catch up on the posts he had missed.

You were in your room, sighing for the umpteenth time. You hated the atmosphere in your home, it was tense as your parents had fought early in the morning about tarnishing the family reputation.

Ironic coming from them.

Both of them stormed out of the home soon, wanting a break from the other, leaving you all to yourself for the day.

Seeing as you had nothing better to do at the given moment, you opted to go for a swim in the pool as you put on a black one piece swimsuit, taking your sunscreen bottle along with the few things you’d need there.

However, you did not expect to see a stranger casually sitting in one of your sun loungers by the biggest pool as the water drained out, just like the plan you had for swimming.

Ignoring the new addition to your leisure time, you went ahead to sit by the second pool, which was already cleaned by the old cleaner you had hired, the one who left the job out of nowhere.

The water was lukewarm when you dipped your legs in it, kicking the water softly, which gained the attention of the boy in shorts.

His whistling stopped as he stared at your side profile from a distance, eyes taking in your figure which was clad in black which fit you well, he gulped, his tongue swiped down his lower lip when his eyes stopped to look at your legs, and how glossy and plump your lips looked in the sunlight, the light breeze swayed your open hair and how your hands look so small compared to his, making him wonder how they’d look holding his—

You turned your head to look his way, eyes sharp which was enough to break his train of thoughts, feeling as if you were being stared at, he turned his head in record time to avoid your gaze, and you noticed he was just using his phone.

Shrugging, you got up to get on one of the sun loungers with an umbrella to put on your sunscreen, missing the way Heeseung’s eyes flickered over to you from time to time as he concluded the cleaning process to fill up the freshwater now.

Your skin glowed with the extra moisture from the sunscreen but he noticed how you struggled with rubbing it on your back.

His hands itched to do that for you, he couldn’t take his eyes off you the entire time he was at your place, but what bothered him is that you didn’t look up at him even once, until he got into the stalls and came out after changing into his decent outfit as his shorts had gotten wet from the water.

It was the exact time you got up to get into the newly cleaned pool, “good work—” you started to say.

Heeseung was shocked, he never pegged you to start a conversation, nevertheless, a little smirk settled on his face when he turned around to see your pretty face up close, “Heeseung,” he finished your sentence, “and thank you.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, looking at his face clearly for the first time since he arrived.

He had the most perfect nose you had ever come across, his lips looked delicate and pink, his eyes summing up his face to look innocent, and hair shiny yet messy.

It seemed as if you had eye candy for the job of the pool cleaner.

Without extending the conversation, you got into the pool, soaking up your body fully before you started to swim.

Heeseung stood there watching you shamelessly, hand in his pocket as you stopped to swim closer to the edge, water dripping down your chin as your looked up at him in question, “you can leave now,” you said, but the smirk he had on his face was enough to confirm that his innocent looking eyes are deceiving in all ways.

“I’m just waiting for the helper aunt to get my pay for the day,” he said innocently.

You almost scoffed, “go wait by the front gate,” you said, pointing towards the exit area with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“The view isn’t as nice there,” he nonchalantly said.

“Excuse me?” You said in a beat, looking at him with disbelief.

“I meant, the palm trees and the flowers here are better than the fountain near the gate area, also, the helper aunt asked me to wait here,” he shrugged, acting as if he was naive.

“Right,” you rolled your eyes, “she’s here now you can leave,” you gave him a tight lipped smile, resuming your swimming session.

He tried to contain his laugh, it was already fun to tease you, not to mention how you looked so attractive when wet, in the water of course.

“Good bye then,” he winked at you before leaving.

You watched his long legs quickly getting away from the pool area.

“What a creep,” you muttered, already planning ideas to get him off his high horse.

You were sunbathing the next day, not once thinking that Heeseung would come again, but he did.

He wore a deep grey tank top and black shorts as he focused on cleaning the two smaller pools.

Thankfully, he wasn’t much of a bother that day, he simply did his work, after greeting you with a slick smile, of course.

It was clear that he stopped to stare your way from time to time, you wore dark tinted goggles just to catch him doing so, scoffing before you went inside your room, not having it in you to deal with him.

You loved to swim, it was a major stress reliever for you, the next two days were peaceful for you, your parents were out of town and there was no trace of Lee Heeseung at your place.

Sunghoon had visited you that night, inviting himself in for dinner, wanting to check up on you after hearing the news about your parents arrival.

“—They’re driving me insane, I could be simply breathing, and they would say that I am breathing wrong, I have no clue how to deal with this and I am so tired already, not to mention how the new pool cleaner is so infuriating.” You groaned, finishing up your rant as you filled him in on everything that happened ever since your parents came back.

His eyebrows raised at your last comment, “the new pool cleaner, huh?” He chuckled.

You nodded, taking a bite of the pizza you had ordered, “his name is Heeseung, he’s like an actual creep, he stares at me while working, I literally cannot go to swim whenever he’s around,” you ranted.

“Trust me I know him,” Sunghoon rested his forehead on his hand, not believing that Heeseung would actually act so shamelessly, yet it was comedic in a way.

“You do?” You asked.

“He’s my closest friend, Y/n.” Sunghoon was amused how both you and Heeseung didn’t know about each other up until he started working for you, “you’d know if you liked me even a bit,” he smirked, and looked crazy handsome doing so.

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, glad that Sunghoon was here to lighten up the mood, “I didn't know you had such friends.” Distaste was clear in your voice.

“He’s not a bad guy, okay? He’s just—” Hoon stopped to find the right word.

“Just?” You urged him to continue.

“Just stupid at times, yeah,” he shook his head.

“Right,” you said, laughing.

“If he bothers you, just punch him or whatever,” he said casually.

Maybe you’ll take up on Sunghoon’s advice on that.

The next few days were peaceful, headphones shutting out the world as you completed your holiday assignments sitting at the poolside area with your laptop in front of you, yet he had something or the other to say.

“Oh, you’re doing the assignments already?” He asked over your headphones, speaking loud, standing next to your seat.

You nodded, not giving him the time of your day.

“Do you need help?” He couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“Does it look like I want help?” You asked, removing your headphones and shades.

“Honestly? Your essay looks pretty perfect as of now—” he started to comment.

“That was a rhetorical question,” you deadpanned, closing your laptop and going back inside.

You knew he wasn’t this dumb, he just did it on purpose to piss you off, for your attention, just like how you behaved outrageously when you wanted your parents attention.

But Heeseung? He needed to be taught a lesson and that too, very soon.

“No, I can’t come tonight Isa, my parents want to have dinner together like a good family. Isn’t that funny?” You talked to your best friend on call, sitting by the pool yet again.

Your parents were the reason you couldn’t go out of the house anymore, they wanted you to be home, spending quality time with them, which consisted of you being judged for your every move, your parents wanting your mannerism to be proper.

“Can’t they just leave already?” You sighed as Isa tried her best to console you, saying that she’d be there whenever you’d be allowed to go out.

That call definitely heightened your spirits until someone decided to pay your pools a visit again.

One of the helpers had told you that Heeseung wasn’t working today, so you wore your comfortable two piece bikini for the swim, which you deeply regret now.

Heeseung simply wanted to see you, he loved pissing you off, knowing how much his presence bothered you.

That only made him want to do it more.

“Hey, Y/n!” He smiled your way, his perfect set of teeth coming into your vision as you looked up from the magazine you were reading, only to give him a light lipped smile with a nod.

He looked at you in amusement as you didn’t bother to spend a second more looking his way, opting to read your magazine instead.

He was particularly talkative that day, trying to get a reaction out of you but you were patient, not giving in easily until you couldn’t hold back and decided to play his game.

“Do you need help with that?” Heeseung asked, pointing towards the sunscreen which you couldn’t apply properly on your back again, he had noticed how your hands couldn’t reach your back in particular.

He just wanted an excuse to touch your soft looking skin.

Bonus for him, you were wearing a bikini which gave him access to your bare back.

He waited for a witty comeback or straight up rejected but your reply wasn’t something he was expecting, eyes widening just a fraction.

“Oh, yes! Could you please help me put sunscreen on my back?” You looked sincere as you requested this.

“Y—yes, of course I’ll help you, princess,” he smiled after overcoming the shock, rushing to wash his hands clean, despite them being clean already before he came over to you.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he saw you sitting down on the sunlounger with your back exposed to him.

He wasn’t being subtle while staring at your ass either, he was simply glad you were facing the other way as he took some sunscreen and started massaging your shoulders, applying the right amount of pressure.

You bit your lip, hating how good his hands felt massaging your body, but you had it under control.

He took his sweet time rubbing your back, before he reached your lower back. He was having the time of his life, your skin felt even softer than he had imagined and he was surprised about how you didn’t pass any comment throughout this.

Him being sneaky was the exact thing you were waiting for, his hand reaching close to your chest after he applied cream to your clavicle region.

You turned around and grabbed his wrist, bending it down and pulling him close enough to be on your face level, you stopped your mind from accepting how good it felt, you simply hated Heeseung.

“Ouch, fuck,” he cussed, not expecting you to be this strong, the pain subsided in a second as he looked you up close, your scent infiltrating his mind.

“Don’t play with me, Heeseung,” you said in a deeper octave, looking right into his eyes.

He smiled, which only urged you to continue.

“Do you have no shame? I’ll have you fired if you pull this shit again,” you warned him, letting go of his hand and standing up to leave.

However, he was quick to grab your wrist and spin you around, so you bumped right into his chest, which was hard.

“What the fuck—” you exclaimed but your voice died down soon.

His hand reached to the one spot on your neck which had sunscreen that wasn’t spread properly. He simply bit his lip and used two of his fingers to massage that spot on your neck.

It must have been your sensitive spot because your legs suddenly felt like they were jelly, your breathing quickened as you stared at his annoyingly attractive face.

“All done,” he whispered in your ear, leaving your wrist as he only smirked, walking back to do his work, leaving you stunned as you rushed inside due to embarrassment.

No fucking way you enjoyed those ten seconds with him.

As for Heeseung, he couldn’t stop thinking of how hot you looked, trying to be angry but being a mess in his presence, just thinking about your expression and your outfit together gave him a boner.

“Y/n,” he groaned with one hand on the shower wall, supporting his tall frame as the other squeezed his dick, jerking off to your thoughts, “oh god, fuck!” He grunted, thinking about how tight you’d feel around him, the scenarios were enough for him to shoot out his load, smirking at the ideas in his head.

He just needed to push you more.

The events of that day replayed in your mind an unhealthy amount of times, you never wanted to see him again, yet you wanted the exact same thing.

You hated it.

You hated how good it felt, having his big hands on your body and you most certainly didn’t have it in you to face him today.

All you wished for was to read a book in peaceful silence, but yet again, your space was invaded when a certain Bambi eyed boy made an appearance at your place, despite it not being the day of his schedule.

Still, he had the audacity to greet you before he started singing while doing his tasks for the day.

The infuriating part? His voice was a mixture of honey and chocolate, and everything sweet in this world because you had never heard a voice to angelic before.

Not that it was enough to woo you.

Sighing, you closed your book and decided to go for a swim, but again, you were stopped.

“Wait!” Heeseung exclaimed, bringing out the cleaning net to get rid of one leaf that was in the huge pool, looking back at you with a goofy smile as he held the leaf up.

“Okay. So, you stopped me from going in because of a leaf?” You folded your arms on your chest as you tried to make sense of the situation.

“Couldn’t let a princess swim in the dirty pool,” he said, eyes getting bigger, feigning innocence.

He was a nuisance and you were running thin on patience. Your mother had graciously spoiled your day saying your manners are out of line, your father added to it, talking about how vacations were a waste of time for you.

“Aw, really?” You asked, faking your voice to sound sweet and thankful before you took a step close to him.

His eyes looked at you expectantly, but yet again, you pulled something he wasn’t ready for.

With a big smile on your face, you pushed him into the pool, hard and fell down with a big splash.

“Oops,” you said once he came out of the water, brushing his wet hair away as he breathed hard, his clothes clinging on to his body.

He looked hot.

You tried not to look at his body as you bent down to talk to him, “aw, now you’ll have to clean the whole pool, it’s so disgustingly dirty now that you’re in there.” You smiled innocently.

He poked his tongue through this cheek and gave you no time before grabbing onto your arm and pulling you right in with him.

You gasped for air, your whole body getting soaked with water as you came out just in front of him, a devilish smirk on his face.

“Are you insane?” You almost screamed at him but he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer with a serious expression on his face.

You could see his face with the top most clarity up close, his wet hair messily covering his forehead and eyes, still he looked attractive.

“Is this what you do when someone tries to help you, princess?” His voice came out deeper and his hold on you tightened.

You were glad that there were no helpers around the pool area or you would die of embarrassment, not to mention how your parents would react knowing about this situation.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you whispered in the same tone, maintaining the eye contact.

“Yeah, right you think of yourself as the queen,” he went on.

“Stop,” you warned.

“But in reality you’re just a pretty, spoiled princess, aren't you?” He taunted in a voice that gave you goosebumps.

Giggly Heeseung was attractive enough, but him being serious was something that had you in a trance.

“Shut up,” you said in a measly voice, head fuzzy.

“Do I need to show you who you are, huh? You’re a little princess,” he went on.

“Shut the fuck up,” you raised your voice, the feeling down in your lower abdomen was something you hadn’t felt so strongly before.

“Make me,” was all he said with a smirk.

Yet what you did next was something he wasn’t prepared for.

It all happened in less than a second, your fingertips grabbing his chin, pulling him closer to your face with a gasp as you captured his lips into a rushed kiss, his nose poking yours softly.

This man drove you crazy, to the point where you had to give in just to get a taste of him.

He leaned back to look into your eyes, breaking the kiss just to see you breathe in deeper and shy away, but he didn’t let you do that.

His hand rested on the back of your head as he pulled you into a deeper, passionate kiss, causing you to whimper in his mouth, holding on to his shoulders for support.

You gasp as his hands roam around your body, leaving the places where you wanted him to touch you the most, the frustration causing you to moan into his mouth, against his smirk.

It was a rhythm of desire, passion, and exasperation. The kiss got sloppier by second and you both had to lean back to breathe. With your chest heaving up and down, you dared to look into his eyes which were clouded with lust.

Each touch, each movement from his side impacted your body in a way you never thought it would, you shivered with his touch, the smirk never leaving his lips.

“So sensitive,” he muttered, trailing his finger down your body as you still held on to him, your legs felt weaker than ever.

“Heeseung—” you tried to speak up, but only a moan left your mouth when he traced his finger on your clothed pussy.

“Guess what, princess? You’re wet,” he pointed out, coming closer to bite your ear, causing you to squirm in his hold, “and it’s not because of the water.”

“Fuck,” you let out, mind going blank.

You loved being in control, putting people in their places and ordering them around. But you never thought that being treated like this would arouse you to this point.

To the point that you’d let Heeseung do anything.

He took you out of the pool, dragging you to the changing stalls, pushing you against the door after he locked it.

“You look so innocent, I could ruin you,” he said, folding his long fingers around your neck, applying slight pressure to it.

“I know,” you spoke mindlessly and Heeseung was amused at how easily you gave in.

“Yeah? No snarky comebacks or threats this time?” He teased.

“I’m leaving,” you said, embarrassed and trying to get away with your face burning with shame, but again, it wasn’t up to you as Heeseung pushed his body closer to yours, sandwiching you between him and the wall.

“You’re not going anywhere, darling,” he whispered, pushing your bikini panties to the side.

His fingers teased at your entrance and you unconsciously bucked your hips to meet him. He grabbed your hips to stay still before moving his fingers on your wet slit again, poking his finger on your entrance yet not letting it slide in fully to your dismay.

“Please,” you whined louder than before.

“Please what, princess?” He stopped moving his fingers all together just to hear your reply.

“Please fuck me,” you let out slowly, embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“That’s a good girl, but sadly you won't get it so easily,” he said and without any warning, he pushed a finger inside your pussy, which was wet and needy and it sucked him in.

His deep grunts only turned you on more, his hard clothed cock rubbing against your ass as he tore your bikini away, adding another finger to fill your pussy, reaching a deep spot which had you seeing stars.

Your glossy eyes followed his fingers as he sniffed it, “smells so sweet,” he said in a deep breath, giving you goosebumps, his tongue swirled around, tasting your juices and humming along.

“Oh baby you’re dripping,” he smirked, getting on his knees, putting one leg on his shoulder as he wasted no time in indulging himself in eating your sweet pussy, tongue lapping at your juices and you had to bite your fist to contain your noises.

You were so close.

His finger teased your clit to heighten the stimulation, and it worked wonders as it had you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, whimpering and crying.

You reached your limit when he pushed his tongue into your hole, a loud moan leaving your lips as he went on to eat you out.

“Hee—oh my god,” you cried out, falling apart on his tongue, and he lapped up the last drop of the juices you had spilled.

You looked at him, looking sinister, his lips shining and eyes glistening with amusement as he grabbed your chin and kissed you right on mouth, giving you a taste of yourself.

You rubbed his cock through his shorts, getting a scoff out of him, “not so fast, princess. You’ll have to show me how much you want it. I’ll go take care of it till then and clean your pool, which is oh so disgusting.” He smirked, getting out and into the showering stall, leaving you dazed and wet.

You had to have his cock.

You wouldn’t admit how much you had wanted him to fuck you directly to his face, so instead, you decided to be a menace and show him what he’s been missing.

He came back after two days, just as the schedule of his job. And it was a lucky day for you since half of the working staff had been granted a holiday today, leaving you with only the chefs and a security guard who wouldn’t ever come into the pool area.

Heeseung’s duality scared you, he came in as usual, wearing a blank tank and shorts this time, greeting you with a smile, “morning, princess,” he smirked, yet looked innocent.

“Hey, Hee,” you purposely called him a nickname, causing his smile to grow before he looked at your bikini top, which was not tied properly and showed more skin than usual.

You knew that would get his attention.

Standing up, you stretched your arms and started walking towards him, your movement caused the knot to open up fully, your tits coming into display for him.

It was so attractive how his jolly and innocent eyes turned dark within a second, but you only giggled, pushing his limits, “oops, i guess the knot wasn’t tied properly, can you help me, Hee?” You asked with a smile.

He scoffed, “that desperate for my cock?” He asked, biting his lower lip.

“I’m just asking for help,” you tried to reason and hide your guilty smile.

“Such a pathetic needy thing, you just want to be fucked, don’t you?” He took a step further and you stepped back, the butterflies in your lower abdomen not calming down for even a second, “maybe I’ll have to fuck some manners into you,” he smirked, and pushed you on the couch near the last pool, getting on top of you, ignoring your lips as he trailed his own on your neck, making sure to apply more pressure while kissing your sweet spot. Your bikini top was long discarded in the pool, your bikini bottoms joined it soon as you laid below him.

“Already wet? Seems like you’ve been waiting eagerly,” he commented, sliding his fingers into your pussy, scissoring it open for his cock to fit into your tight hole, “so ready for my dick,” he chuckled.

“Put it in,” you whimper, causing him to shut your mouth, his lips on your as he swiped his tongue on your lower lip, a gasp leaving your mouth as you kissed him back with need.

He pushed his pants down and stroked his cock a few times, all while keeping you busy with his kisses. Without giving you much warning, he poked the tip of his cock at the your entrance, your eyes widening as he deepened the kiss, pushing his hips forward, stuffing your clenching walls full of his thick length.

“Oh—fuck!” You gasped and moaned.

A smirk was plastered on his face with how needy he made you, your wetness allowing him to bottom out easily, giving you no time to adjust to his length before he started to thrust in even faster and deeper, sending you into a state of the bliss of arousal.

With your eyes rolling back, you couldn’t form sentences as he ruined you, whispering dirty nothings into your ear as he nibbled on it.

You were committing the filthiest sin yet it felt like heaven.

“So wet, so fucking tight, all for my cock, look how you’re clenching so desperately,” he chuckled.

His balls smacked against your ass, he was painfully hard and you were equally aroused, not knowing how much more you could hold it in.

“What if someone walks in and sees how dirty of a slut you are?” He continued to talk, which only made you wetter, “you would like that, won’t you? Me fucking you behind your parents.” He thrusted harder, hitting your g-spot with ease.

His hips moved with such fluidity, it made you wonder how many people he had fucked before to get this good at fucking, you were obsessed already.

It took all of your control to not scream and whimper out loud, the stretch was nothing like you had experienced before, you couldn’t help but chant his name like a mantra, over and over again, head clouded with him.

Heeseung twitched inside your pussy, pulling you up and turning you around with ease, pushing your head down and holding your ass up as he started fucking you from behind, a hand grabbing your tit while the other played with your clit.

You whimpered, gritting your teeth as the sudden tight feeling began to overwhelm your trembling frame, and he knew you wouldn’t be able to hold his back anymore, his movements getting sharper as he smacked your ass.

“Go ahead, kitten,” he whispered and that did it for you.

Shaking and whining, you finally reached your high, all senses heightened as you made a mess all over his cock.

He groaned deeply, emptying his cum into your pussy with a few thrusts, making sure you were full of him.

He stood back just to watch his cum dripping pussy and fucked out expression.

“Better start taking birth control from now,” he smirked, kissing your lips with a smack.

“Why? Will you fuck me again?” You asked, acting like a brat, “I’ll pay you.”

He scoffed, “keep your cash to yourself, queen, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to stand the next time,” he gritted out.

To his amusement, you tried to stand up, only to fall back down on the couch, “guess you can’t do it, and to think I went easy on you,” he spoke up, embarrassing you again.

Being degraded by him was your new fetish.

“What if my dad catches us?” You asked, looking away, trying to cover yourself with a towel as you changed the topic.

“Well, you’ll have to learn to be silent to not get caught, princess,” he spoke, coming closer and taking the towel away from you, gaze darkening at your figure again, aiming for a round two thinking no one was watching.

However, a certain boy named Sunghoon stood on his balcony from the mansion next to yours, the view being clear enough to show your pool area and your activities, his hand stroking his cock firmly as he watched Heeseung fuck you for the second time.

A smirk played on his face as he fucked his palm as he formulated a plan in his head.

He simply knew he’d be joining you both the next time.

THANK YOU FOR READING! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT <3

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[cantsayidont]

When attempting to critique the values of a long-running franchise like STAR TREK, it's important to draw a distinction between superficial issues and structural ones.

"Superficial" in this sense doesn't mean "minor" or "unimportant"; it simply means that an issue is not so intrinsic to the premise that the franchise would collapse (or would be radically different) were it changed or removed. For example, misogyny has been a pervasive problem across many generations of STAR TREK media, which have often been characterized by a particular type of leering-creep sexism that was distasteful at the time and has not improved with age. However, sexism and misogyny are not structural elements of the TREK premise; one can do a STAR TREK story where the female characters have agency and even pants without it becoming something fundamentally different from other TREK iterations (even TOS, although there are certainly specific TOS episodes that would collapse if you excised the sexism).

By contrast, the colonialism and imperialism are structural elements — STAR TREK is explicitly about colonizing "the final frontier" and about defending the borders, however defined, of an interstellar colonial power. Different iterations of STAR TREK may approach that premise in slightly different ways, emphasizing or deemphasizing certain specific aspects of it, but that is literally and specifically what the franchise is about. Moreover, because STAR TREK has always been heavily focused on Starfleet and has tended to shy away from depicting life outside of that regimented environment, there are definite limits to how far the series is able to depart from the basic narrative structure of TOS and TNG (a captain and crew on a Starfleet ship) without collapsing in on itself, as PICARD ended up demonstrating rather painfully.

This means that some of the things baked into the formula of STAR TREK are obviously in conflict with the franchise's self-image of progressive utopianism, but cannot really be removed or significantly altered, even if the writers were inclined to try (which they generally are not).

What I find intensely frustrating about most modern STAR TREK media, including TNG and its various successors, is not that it can't magically break its own formula, but that writer and fan attachment to the idea of TREK as the epitome of progressive science fiction has become a more and more intractable barrier to any kind of meaningful self-critique. It's a problem that's become increasingly acute with the recent batch of live-action shows, which routinely depict the Federation or Starfleet doing awful things (like the recent SNW storyline about Una being prosecuted for being a genetically engineered person in violation of Federation law) and then insist, often in the same breath, that it's a progressive utopia, best of all possible worlds.

This is one area where TOS (and to some extent the TOS cast movies) has a significant advantage over its successors. TOS professes to be a better world than ours, but it doesn't claim to be a perfect world (and indeed is very suspicious of any kind of purported utopia). The value TOS most consistently emphasizes is striving: working to be better, and making constructive choices. Although this can sometimes get very sticky and uncomfortable in its own right (for instance, Kirk often rails against what he sees as "stagnant" cultures), it doesn't presuppose the moral infallibility of the Federation, of Starfleet, or of the characters themselves. There's room for them to be wrong, so long as they're still willing to learn and grow.

The newer shows are less and less willing to allow for that, and, even more troublingly, sometimes take pains to undermine their predecessors' attempts along those lines. One appalling recent example is SNW's treatment of the Gorn, which presents the Gorn as intrinsically evil (and quite horrifying) in a way they're not in "Arena," the TOS episode where they were first introduced. The whole point of "Arena" is that while Kirk responds to the Gorn with outrage and anger, he eventually concedes that he may be wrong: There's a good chance that the Gorn are really the injured party, responding to what they reasonably see as an alien invasion, and while that may be an arguable point, sorting it out further should be the purview of diplomats rather than warships. By contrast, SNW presents the Gorn as so irredeemably awful as to make Kirk's (chronologically later) epiphany at best misguided: The SNW Gorn are brutal conquerors who lay eggs in their captives (a gruesome rape metaphor, and in presentation obviously inspired by ALIENS) when they aren't killing each other for sport, and even Gorn newborns are monsters to be feared. Not a lot of nuance there, and no space at all for the kind of detente found in TOS episodes like "The Devil in the Dark."

[alpaca-clouds]

Schrödinger's Disability

"Stop using your autism/adhd as an excuse!" I cannot tell you how often I got to hear that. Because here is the thing: Most people do not perceive either of those two diagnosises as "real". Even if they know they are real. Even medical professionals do not quite... understand it. Even those working with neurodivergent people.

Of course, if someone is the kinda autistic person who has also some sort of mental impairment, people perceive it as a disability - but if it does not come along with that kinda stuff, a lot of people treat it, as if we make an active choice to do or not to do something.

I told this story yesterday: When I was a kid, the following thing would always happen. When we would have art class, some of my pencils would drop from the table. Most likely because of dyspraxia. Now, when that happened I was simply not able to stop what I was doing. Because my brain cannot handle "stopping one thing to do another thing even for just a moment" very well. And it could handle it even worse when I was a kid. But also, I do not have object permanence. So, if an object does not exist within my field of vision, I just... forget about it. So, I often would just forget to pick the pencil back up. And teachers would be: "Oh, this boy is too lazy to pick up his own things." Which was not at all what was happening.

Another thing that happened to me too often is a very typical autism thing: Someone tells me something. But they do not tell me this in plain words, but rather imply it. So... I very much just not understood it. So, for example, I got told on a Discord Server by one user: "I have muted this channel." Which I understood as: "They muted this channel (maybe because it is very active)". What they said was, though: "I do not wanna see this channel, stop tagging me in this."

And mind you, this happens at work and university, too. A good example is the good old question of: "When are you done with this?" Which I usually understand as: "When are you done with this?" But what they mean to say is: "Hurry up, I need this now."

Last semester I had this happen at university even. Basically I misunderstood the final assignment, because it was not spelled out. Thankfully the professor was less of an asshole about it, than most people. I explained it to him, he understood, still got a good grade. But that tends to be more the exception than the rule.

As I said, this is a thing that even medical professionals do not really get. Even therapists do again and again fail to just communicate with autistic people clearly. They do not think about us usually being unable to understand implied meanings. We only understand the literal meaning for a lot of stuff.

And again: This is especially harsh with people like me, who superficially seem to function well in society. Heck, I have been told by professionals that I could not have ADHD or autism, because I archived a master's degree at university. Because they cannot comprehend that both ADHD and autism are a spectrum. It is not something you "either have, or have not" but it is a wide spectrum of symptoms that are differently strong in different people.

In Germany this also shows harshly when it comes to disability benefits. Because autism on its own rarely ever qualifies for disability benefits at all. Mental disabilities that might be linked to autism do. But autism on its own? No. Same goes with ADHD. And this... is kinda silly, right? Because we have studies upon studies that people with autism and ADHD often cannot work fulltime - at least not permanently. And we also know that generally neurodivergent people are more likely to be fired for a plenthora of reasons. So, yeah, we should kinda be treated like disabled, right?

And the worst part? In the parts where you get legally discriminated because of disabilities? Yeah, we still get that. We cannot immigrate into all other contries. Like, I cannot immigrate into New Zealand, for example, even though I would like too, because New Zealand discriminates against people with autism when it comes to immigration.

So... yeah. No, this sucks.

Nobody would tell a blind person overlooking a visual sign: "Stop using your blindness as an excuse". But with autistic people? It is the norm.

[ptolomia]

hatred for flowers.

- she never knew she could despise flowers, that was until the began to bloom out of her esophagus that is.

- Scott Summers (Cyclops)/Reader Referenced Scott Summers/Jean Grey

Mentions of The Jean - Logan - Scott triangle.

- TW:// Gore / Death

- Hanahaki Disease / Unrequited Love

Pain, the only turn of phrase capable of describing the situation she has been put in. Siting in complete agony as blood pooled out of her mouth. Ironically, the only flowers she ever wanted to receive from him were bouquets, not these. Not the ones traveling up her throat as they pierce her organs. Certainly not the ones exiting her mouth covered in the rouge colored liquid we know to be blood.

Twisting and turning in complete misery, sobbing relentlessly, pain without end. Yet the most agonizing part, she could not let him go. Instead of shrinking, her feelings only grew. Instead of hating him, she grew to hate the flowers blooming within her.

She had begun to hate herself too. Why? You may ask, simple. She hates herself for falling, simply because of an emotion over which she has no control. She resents herself, she goes about her day, blaming herself for ever seeing Scott, when in fact she cannot hate herself for simply being human. She does so for she knows no other way of coping but this. She will resent herself for harbouring such ill borne desire for her oldest friends lover.

Her guilt only seems to grow as she dreams of holding his hand. She pretends her hands fit perfectly within each crevice; and oh god is she grief stricken. Knowing full well that it was made for someone else. He, was made for someone else. Her best friend no less.

She knows all too well that he is not hers, but she is his. She gazes into his eyes and sees the love of her life, whilst he looks into hers and sees his wife’s oldest friend. A friend so madly in love with him, she is willing to risk her own life, unbeknownst to him.

His density is palpable, he doesn’t quite pick up on the hints of affection that you’ve woven into your daily interactions. Even if he did, he chose to remain ignorant. He knows to himself that he is not, and will never be capable of loving anyone as immensely, truly, vastly, soul sickeningly, as he does Jean.

He does this for he is hers, so enamoured to that, he tolerates her blatant lust for another. He remains ignorant for he knows she deserves so much more than he. It does not affect him for he is so terribly in love, that he knows to himself, that he could not be attached to anyone else. He shies away from Jean, from the confrontation for, he fears that if he loses her he will never love again.

She dies out for him, for she would rather die loving him, than live in a world where she hadn’t. She will choose to die with her love, than live without it. She would rather die hating flowers, than live hating him, sick and twisted.

Her guilt had lead her to Professor Xavier’s room. She had rested her head atop his legs as she sat upon the carpeted floor beside his bed. She began confessing her sins, every horrid feeling she had bore. The news that her death was coming soon. Charles absorbed her pain, resting his calloused fingers upon her temple he was taken aback by her agony.

She began to speak again, “Professor, I don’t know what to do. I haven’t lived! How am I meant to die so soon? I’ll never be loved romantically, I’ll never learn to control my powers, I’ll never experience my first kiss, I won’t ever fall in love again. I won’t get a normal life.” Sobs shook her whole body. Charles’ soft voice had lulled her, “You’re a mutant, child, You aren’t normal at all, and that’s beautiful. These superficial things are not what defines a life. You have been loved, this entire academy is a testament to it. You have learned to control your powers, you’ve done more good than you will ever know, and that in itself is a life well lived.”

Allowing herself to wither alongside the flower petals upon the hospital, alone and scared. Not bothering to tell her friends, her fellow mutants, she refused to show weakness, to present her ill state to them.

White walls, shallow beeps, she was slowly being shaken awake. The defribulator shocking her lifeless body, attempting to wake her, failing as when they had gotten there she was long gone, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

A phone chimes, echoing throughout the hallway, slightly startling the young boy, “Hello, is this Scott Summers?” the woman had spoken through the phone. “Yes, this is he.” he chimes, “You’re listed as an emergency contact. We regret to inform you she passed tonight, you may come to ********* , to collect her and her things, I’m sorry for your loss.” she says regretfully, “Okay, thank you.” he says, his heart breaks into the same million pieces that her’s had, his voice cracks, what happened to her?

Pain, the only turn of phrase capable of describing the situation he has been put in, siting in complete agony as tears streamed down his face. He looked at her lifeless form. What had happened? Why hadn’t she informed the team that she was ill? Why hadn’t she informed Jean, she was her dearest friend.

He sat beside her for a few moments, waiting for the Doctor to brief him. “Good Evening Mr Summers, I’m Dr. Hunt.” Scott shook his hand briefly, His vision blurring. “Does she have any other family?” Dr. Hunt asked softly, “Sort of, they’re on their way.” Scott affirmed. “Well, she was diagnosed with late stage Hanahaki Disease. The illness is born out of unrequited love. Flowers will begin to bloom within the lungs of patients until breathing is rendered impossible. There is a surgery for it however she had came in so late that her chances of survival were too slim.” Dr. Hunt had finished, nodding curtly as he exited the room. Scott was mortified. Unrequited love? He thought to himself, She’d never told him nor Jean about any of her romantic interests.

The rest of the team began pouring in, sobs filling the airspace. The cold body filling them all with white hot rage. Scott gave a brief summary of what the doctor had told him, his lips quivering at the thought.

They were just as confused as Scott was. She fell in love? With who? They all thought.

For her dignity, however the professor masked his knowledge. He vividly remembered the way she shook in his lap as she confessed her feelings for Scott. The guilt on her face as she confessed her imminent death had imbedded itself into his psyche. However, he was a man of his word. Charles would take that secret to his grave. The same way she had.

[rallentando1011]

empathetic (emphasis on pathetic)

Hamato Donatello did not frequently feel fondness. Nor attraction. Nor much of anything, for that matter.

Feelings were like syrup: superficially sweet yet so easy to boil over, develop a sludgy, sticky mess of. Texturally, they were a resounding no.

And so he avoided them, ignored them at all costs, swept them under the rug then proceeded to incinerate said proverbial rug.

It worked like a charm, time and time and time again without fail.

Until it didn’t.

Somehow, this weird, warm, fuzzy sensation managed to infiltrate his nigh impenetrable defenses and make a muddle of things and his mind, i.e. he was struck by the L-word, i.e. he met you.

So quickly had the almighty fortress of his emotional front crumbled upon your arrival, so quickly had his resolve instinctively melted, so quickly had he caved.

It was terrifying.

He’d never quite seen the appeal in confiding in others. Sure, he had his brothers, father, April, but they were different, steadfast, reliable, family.

Letting new people into your life and mind and feelings was too vulnerable, too complicated, too messy.

Emotions: fickle, fleeting, forlorn, unlike the reliable cogs and circuits and familiarity of his lab and normal life. An anomaly in themselves.

It certainly was not intentional, letting you into his life, his lab, his affection; it was more of you simply waltzing in and staking claim and refusing not to occupy his thoughts at each and every waking hour.

The realization of the existence of his ill-fated infatuation dawned upon him nary a few months following your introduction as he recognized the textbook signs of it.

Feeling comfortable, at ease with you, longing to message and text and talk to you, experiencing restlessness nightly at the thought of you - he was certifiably done for.

If his fancies were unrequited, it may have been easier; just confess to the hopeless romanticism, get utterly rejected, accept the futility of love and how it was doomed from the start, go back to being your companion.

But no, you just had to complicate things further.

Your reciprocated affections, your incessant presence at his side, an accidental I love you or two - it was unbearable.

So he ditched it. Ditched you. Poured himself into his work and holed himself up in the lab.

Was it the coward’s way out: leaning into the easiest option without consideration for the alternative of not being an emotional recluse? Certainly.

Would that hinder him from doing so in the slightest?

Negatory.

He would rather get the situation dealt with earlier on than encourage the muck of emotions between you two to grow, fester, rot.

No chance he’d ever given for a relationship resulted in anything but failure, pain, anger - giving it another shot could only end in a repeat.

So maybe it was for the best that he pushed you away; better to focus on something sturdy, tangible, real rather than whatever blend of oxytocin and endorphins and serotonin and dopamine was convincing your mind that you loved him.

Those hormones, and consequently those feelings, would fade with time.

You’d get over it.

And he would too.

[selfishdoll]

NOW PLAYING…. SUPERMASSIVE BLACK HOLE

You're the queen of the superficial, And how long before you tell the truth?

sum: being a physical therapist assistant wasn’t easy work at all, and it didn’t help that one of your patients was beginning to plague your thoughts, in more ways than one.

PURE COINCIDENCE . camboy & martial artist! kashimo hajime x physical therapist assistant! reader

cw: strangers to lovers (lowkey), kashimo & reader are 19-21, kashimo is ooc of course, modern au (no cursed techniques but he’s still strong asf), sex work, pet names, teasing, degradation & praise, shy!reader, curvy reader, kashimo is an ass man, lowkey corruption kink, slightly public sex, kashimo is reckless & dumb, dumbification, manhandling, rough sex, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, choking, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, etc.

i spent so much time on this & was winging it fr so it didn’t come out how i liked 😭😭. & it got much longer then i wanted it to be. also please excuse any typos or errors, it’s late 🙏🏾

You always thought boxing, wrestling, and martial arts were such violent sports. You didn’t see the appeal of beating someone black and blue— or forcing them into submission. You weren’t a pacifist by any means but fighting was just something you didn’t get it. Especially, when it came to making money off it.

Truthfully, however— you didn’t need to see the point. Your only concern was massaging your patients and assuring they didn’t overextend themselves.

Which happened often.

Today would be a good day for you, a starting point actually. After two years of grueling work, several months of training, and being placed in a hospital you hated; you were finally sought out by a private practice— a gym for martial artists. From what you’ve heard they were good; winning tournaments back to back and putting on quite a show for the audience.

A name that frequently showed up was Kashimo Hajime, the proclaimed God of Lightning. A title earned given how fast he was, no one able to keep up with the amount of punches that he landed on his opponent. You were sure that was impressive in its own right, but you simply couldn’t get past the name.

It made you giggle each time you heard it.

Your eyes trailed away from the building infront of you and over to your phone hooked up to the stand in your car. You pressed your lips together, “Looks like I’m here..” You mumbled to yourself, feeling anxiety gather at the pit of your stomach. A new job always did that to you, imagining just about everything going wrong. From possibly falling or messing up a chart.

First day jitters always killed your motivation.

But, you took a small breath; eyes closed briefly as you sinked into your seat for a moment. It would be fine, this would be fine. You’re gonna do great. Such affirmations swarmed in your mind, pushing you away from delving down a deep hole of anxiety and insecurity. Once you felt your heart relax just a bit you grabbed your phone and tote bag, turning the car off and soon exiting it. Shutting the door behind you, you assured the doors were locked before approaching the large metal doors of the building. Pulling them open, your eyes scanned the large area. It looked like a relatively regular gym; punching bags hanging from the ceiling in a few places, weights, and treadmills. The most interesting thing was the boxing ring in the middle of the room.

“Hello, miss? Can I help you?” You jumped a little as the voice interrupted your train of thought, turning to face a woman who was seated behind the front desk. You flashed a false confident smile, approaching her while shifting through your bag. “H—hi, I’m [Full Name]. I’m here to start as a PTA.” Your hand finally clasped around what you needed, lifting a packet of papers from the confinements of your bag and passing them over to her awaiting hand.

Her eyes scanned the pages rather quickly, “Oh, you’ll be working with Ms. Makoto.” She mused, flashing you a small smile as she passed the papers back. “She always comes late, so for now; I’d suggest walking around to get a feel for your surroundings. Maybe even talk to your future patients.” She shrugged to which you nodded, a small thank you, escaping you.

You wish she hadn’t suggested the thing at all, given how nerve-racking it felt to you. However, you now felt obligated to do it, especially with the way she was smiling at you so sweetly. Damn her.

Situating the strap of your bag onto your shoulder correctly, you headed over towards the actual gym area; eyes on the swivel to assure you didn’t end up in anyone’s way. Like you hoped, however, the martial artists were far too focused on their training, paying you no mind as their fists slammed against some punch bag or they pumped their legs on the treadmill.

The atmosphere itself was nice, really. You didn’t mind it, maybe you would get used to it.

Once you were finished walking around the people lifting weights, your eyes traveled over to the boxing ring in the middle, noticing two forms entering it and several people surrounding it. Interest quickly invaded your mind, moving towards the crowd to get a better look. You luckily found your way to the front, staring up at the two men that were currently stretching.

One was unimpressionable; hair shaved short with tanned skin. He was shirtless showcasing his simple build. He wasn’t small but wasn’t big either, sculpted but not bulky? It was clear he wasn’t a seasoned fighter. But, as your eyes turned over to his opponent; the difference was all too clear.

Standing at an impressive six feet, cloaked in a tight black shirt and baggy white pants, bandages wrapped around his forearms. You watched as he cupped his hands together behind his back, stretching his arms and fuck, were they big. Or rather the man was big in general, enough so you pitied his opponent.

You watched as he rose his arms above his head this time, eyes zoning in on the way his shirt followed— revealing his toned stomach and the pretty blue trail that traveled down. Oh, how you wanted to see where it lead to.

“[Name]?”

“Huh!?” You gasped out of your daze, head snapping over to a woman that stood beside you. She had short black hair that illuminated her pale features perfectly, sharp dark eyes already staring at you. Her gloss stained lips curled once she had your attention, “I’m Makoto. I’m sorry for being late.”

You gave a nervous smile, “I—I don’t mind. I was just uh.. getting to know my surroundings.” The physical therapist nodded at you with a smile, eyes turning over to the ring as a small sigh escaped her.

“I’ve told Kashimo to stop entertaining these rookies.”

“Entertaining?”

Makoto nodded with a soft hum, crossing her arms over her chest. “They always want to fight him for some reason, riling him up until he finally agrees to a spar. It’s ridiculous,” She mused, tapping a finger against her skin. “It’s clear whose going to win.”

You pressed your lips together, eyes turning back to the ring. To your surprise, Kashimo was standing upright while his opponent was in a fighting stance. Cocky.. Was what ran through your mind, eyes darting between the two men.

The man with a shaved head blew air from his mouth, springing towards Kashimo in a single step. Your eyes widened as you watched the cyan-haired man step out of the other’s way, bawling his fists. The sound of skin to skin contact was the only thing you could register, astonished by the pure speed of his fists, opponent trapped under the flurry of his hits. Makoto was right, he didn’t stand a chance; falling to the ring the moment the god of lightning was finished with him. The match couldn’t have been longer than five seconds.

“Kashimo, It was only supposed to be a spar— not a knockout!” Makoto called, softly complaining about unnecessary concussions. You watched as Kashimo’s bored expression fixed onto the physical therapist, a small snarl on his face. Makoto hissed at this, fussing at him not to glare at her.

He didn’t entertain her yelling long, eyes traveling away from her and fixing onto you. You didn’t hold his gaze long, or rather— you couldn’t, given its intensity. You simply turned to face Makoto waiting for her to get over her yelling so you could get started.

. . .

A few hours of work passed, the only major concern being Kashimo’s opponent and assuring he had no fractures or concussions from the match. Much to Makoto’s relief, he didn’t. Other than that you were observing and looking over charts, noticing the inconsistencies in Kashimo’s. Makoto then explained to you the man ignored injuries and she quite literally has to corner him to get him into her office. The mental image made you laugh softly.

Soon enough your shift was over, being informed you did well and to come at the same time tomorrow. It delighted you to hear such a thing. Exiting the building, you approached your car while searching for your keys in your bag, humming softly to yourself. Finally finding them, you pull them out; attention however, shifting over to the gym doors when they opened.

To your surprise Kashimo stepped out, holding a large duffel bag in his left hand while his right? Reached for the end of his shirt, lifting it up and using it to wipe his face. All under your gaze.

You felt ashamed staring at him in such a way, especially since he was technically your patient.

“You need somethin’, Miss [Name]?” His voice was muffled against the damp fabric, pulling his shirt down to reveal his sharp eyes starting at you. You jumped in surprise, nearly dropping your keys. “Oh, oh, no! No..” You breathed out, shakily pressing the button on them to unlock your car. To your horror the man gave you a small smirk;

“Safe travels then.”

“Mhm! You too!” The words escaped you meekly and far louder then you wished. Snatching the driver’s side door open, you entered the vehicle, barely even slamming the door closed before you turned the engine over. You quickly pulled out of that parking lot, attempting to forget the scene that just happened.

. . .

A soft sigh escaped you as you sat on your bed, leaning back to lay down, arms laying across your stomach. The sky was painted black, stars twinkling overhead with the moon rested aimlessly. It was getting late and you needed to get some sleep for tomorrow. You weren’t sure how work would be but you wanted to mentally prepare for the worst. However, you just.. didn’t want to sleep yet?

It was weird, really. You didn’t feel tired despite how nervous you were today. You almost felt proud of yourself.

“Still need to get some sleep though..” You mumbled to yourself, rolling over to your stomach. Pressing your face into your plush blankets for a moment, you mulled over how to force yourself to sleep. Milk, melatonin maybe? You don’t know if you had either. You spared two more minutes of thought before an idea entered your mind.

Masturbation. You were a genius.

You reached blindly for your phone while turning onto your back again, scooting up farther onto your bed as you opened the dreaded X app. Ignoring tweets from friends and celebrities you went straight to the search bar typing in something random. You just needed to get off once, it normally worked for you.

Using one hand to scroll, the other went down to your lower half, happy you previously discarded your pants as your fingers brushed across your thinly covered pussy. Warming yourself up, your fingers pressed against your covered clit, slowly rubbing it; feeling the gentle pleasure travel up your spine.

Fifteen minutes passed of this and your agitated scrolling, frustration building as nothing in particular caught your eye. Each video was either too short or too boring for something to use, or even some too much. This wasn’t supposed to be difficult anyhow. Just a quick session and then sleep. Yet, here you were; boredly scrolling.

You nearly settled for your imagination rather then a video until something caught your eye. Your thumb hovered over the video, eyes zoning in on it. It was simple, a male by himself, showcasing his lower half but nothing else. You saw the imprint of his dick through his sweats, strong hand gliding across it; teasing himself.

Pursing your lips, you clicked on the video, getting into a comfortable position. You watched as he delicately pulled the strings on his pants, watching the band loosen. His hips rose, hooking a thumb under the waistband to slowly tug down— not far, but far enough his length slowly came into view; popping out when his sweats rested on his thighs.

You sucked in a breath, watching his veined hand clasp around his pretty cock. He was pale, tip a soft red with precum spilling from the slit. He was also.. well, big; lengthy and thick— particularly around the base. You attempted to imagine it inside you, pussy pulsing at the thought of it splitting you open.

His thumb rolled on the crown of his length, collecting some precum before smoothing it down his shaft. To your surprise you heard a soft groan, feeling your stomach tighten from the sound. Most men on this annoying app were quiet in their videos, something you couldn’t stand. And while he wasn’t loud, it was loud enough your hand went straight under your panties, beginning to roll tight circles on your clit.

You moved in sync to how he fisted himself, his soft sighs and grunts escaping your phone’s speaker; envious you couldn’t hear such things right into your ear. You bit your lip as your legs shook, two fingers traveling down your slick slit to plunge inside you. Your hips rose, grinding your clit into your palm as your eyes focused on the man. You gasped out, watching as his pace quickened, hips rising to meet the thrusts of his hands.

His voice became ragged, pants desperate as he chased his release. And you, your own. You were so close, watching this stranger fuck himself. A pretty sight you couldn’t look away from.

“Oh, fuck..” Was what he hissed, nearly making your eyes roll back. You were there, right there, so close, until— you noticed something. Your eyes had unfortunately wandered from his cock to his stomach peeking out under his shirt, spotting something.

A soft tuft of cyan colored hair.

Your eyes widened for a moment, feeling your pleasure come crashing down as flashes of Kashimo in the ring and outside the building entered your mound. The way it lined below his navel so perfectly, it was all too familiar. “There’s no way..” You thought to yourself, attempting to rationalize it in your head. Kashimo Hajime, martial artist known as the god of lightning just didn’t seem like the type to do such a thing.

But then again, you knew nothing about him, so who were you to declare it wasn’t like him?

Such thoughts killed your lust filled high, pulling your hand out of your panties and quickly clicking out of the app. You turned on your side, phone rested face down on your blankets. Your eyes pinched close, attempting to calm your racing thoughts and think of solutions to this.

It was all pure coincidence. Nothing more, nothing less. Maybe dying happy trails that particular color was some trend you didn’t hear about?

You seriously hoped it was.

. . .

Despite your many thoughts last night, you fell asleep shortly after that event. Though you did wake up and feel miserable, just imagining how nervous you’ll be facing Kashimo.

It’s probably not him.. right? You continued to try and convince yourself, closing your car door shut and beginning your trek over to the gym. Opening the doors and entering, you gave a brief smile to the receptionist that greeted you and made a beeline to Makoto’s office, reaching for the door.

Only for it to open, right in your face.

“[Name]! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were there!” The physical therapist hissed softly, watching as you soothed the pain on your forehead. You only gave a small smile, shaking your head. “It’s okay. I wasn’t paying attention anyway.” The brief pain knocked Kashimo right from your thoughts, something you deeply appreciated and nearly thanked the reckless older woman for.

Makoto looked you over for a moment before sighing softly, nodding. “Alright, well. Set your things down. It’s not a lot to do today, but that could change.”

You gave a brief smile and nodded, entering her office. It was simple, resembling a hospital room with shelves lining the walls and a long black bed off against the wall. You placed your bag beside her own, turning around to spot Makoto at the door, talking to someone.

Moving closer you quickly realized it was Kashimo. His expression just like yesterday, bored with a snarl pointed towards the older woman— who was currently nagging, just like yesterday. You swallowed a breath, flashes of the previous night entering your mind, far too quick and vivid to ignore. It didn’t help that in the midst of her words his eyes traveled to you, causing you to still; wishing to fall through the floor right then and there.

The corner of his mouth twitched, “Don’t you have someone to mentor instead of wasting your time, naggin’?” Hajime questioned, finally releasing you from his gaze to stare back at Makoto. The physical therapist’s voice rose in pitch, Hajime turning on his heel and walking off much to her annoyance..

And your relief. You hoped he was too busy training to acknowledge you today.

Two hours passed with you following Makoto around, writing down a few notes on people’s charts and even tapping some people. They were nice and encouraged you even when your hands shook a little or you stumbled over your words. You really did like this job so far.

It was the afternoon now, Makoto letting you go on a thirty minute break. You entered the lounge room of the gym, hand clasped around the black container of food you had grabbed from your bag. Approaching the microwave, you opened it open and slid the container inside— shutting the door and pressing a random time. You leaned against the counter, scrolling through your phone for a moment before an idea creeped into your mind.

Assuring no one else was in the room, you clicked onto the app you used last night, going to your previous search and beginning to scroll. It took about five minutes before you finally reached where you wanted; the video you watched last night. Taking your food from the microwave, you clicked onto the account of the video, waltzing over to a chair and sitting down.

You attempted to rationalize looking at porn — or rather a porn account at work. It’s not like you were actively watching the videos, or touching yourself; you were simply searching for something, anything that signified this wasn’t Kashimo’s account.

But, you weren’t given much. Firstly, the account’s icon and header was blank while the bio was empty too. Despite this, it had quite a few tweets and followers, highlighting this account was quite popular. You bit the inside of your cheek once again, looking around you for a moment before clicking on the media section of the page. You scrolled, leaning your cheek into your palm. Most of it was solo stuff, showcasing his lower half and never his face. Your heart thumped however; when you noticed the spiky, cyan colored hair that rested behind him in a certain video. You bit the inside of your cheek, jumping when the lounge room door opened.

To your horror, Kashimo entered— giving you a brief glance before walking over to the fridge in the room. His hand reached for something, snatching it from the fridge and rising to shut the door, moving over to the microwave. While opening the door and placing his food inside, you watched his other hand fish his phone from his sweats.

And that’s when a idea popped into your head. A very, very stupid one. Your face turned back to your phone screen, biting your lip. You were still trying to convince yourself this wasn’t him, this was just some random man you’ve never met before.

And so, if you were to like a tweet of his where— your name was completely visible, you were sure he wouldn’t react at all. Your plan seemed solid, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

Taking a shaky breath, your thumb pressed against the hollow heart of a random tweet, slowly placing your phone back onto the table. Maybe.. maybe you were imagining it but, you could have sworn you heard the soft buzz of a phone.

One that wasn’t yours.

Fear shot up your spine, head moving slowly to the side, eyes traveling to the only other person in the room.

Who was already staring at you, cradling his black cased phone.

Your eyes locked, watching as a grin pulled his features. It was him, oh it was definitely him. Your eyes widened as the realization set in, quickly turning forward to snatch your phone and food from the table, getting up on shaky legs and heading towards the door.

“Not hungry, [Name]?” His tone was mocking, far too teasing for you to ignore. You didn’t even spare him a glance as you quickly shook your head, snatching the door open and exiting the lounge.

The realization of the situation finally dawned on you as you sped over to Makoto’s office, nearly crushing your container of food in your hand.

You had found Kashimo Hajime’s twitter, his.. special twitter. And he knew, you knew it was him.

. . .

About three weeks had passed since that fateful day. You were, surprisingly— okay. The day after it happened Kashimo seemed normal, not ignoring you but focused on his training. You remained on edge for the rest of the week expecting something. Maybe a big blow out or a private conversation, but you got neither.

And if you weren’t sure if you were happy, or upset by that. Either way, three weeks went by with radio silence and you growing accustomed to your job.

It was about forty minutes until you would clock out, seated at Makoto’s desk and flipping through papers. Your eyes scanned the page, assuring each chart was up to date and nothing was out of order. Luckily no one has gotten injured majorly these last few weeks, but the necessary procedures had to be done.

You heard movement beside you, eyes drifting away from the stack for a moment to spot your boss grabbing her things and placing them into her bag. Noticing your stare, she turned with an apologetic smile— “Sorry, [Name]! My daughter needs to get picked up. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded at her with a smile, glancing at the clock. You would have been nervous to be left alone, but it was only thirty minutes. And once you clocked out anyone that stayed back for training were on their own.

The door closed behind Makoto as she exited the office, your head turning to focus back on the papers. You hummed softly to yourself, pressing your cheek into your palm as you scribbled something on a page, flipping to the next.

Several minutes passed with this continuous routine, eyes finally shifting away from the work over to your phone. Five minutes until your shift was over. With that, you stood, collecting the papers into a neat stack before placing it back into its manila folder; placing that into your tote bag. You glanced around the area, assuring you weren’t leaving anything behind before grabbing your bag, pulling it onto your shoulder. Turning on your heel, you approached the door and opened it; letting out a soft startled noise.

“Oh, I was expecting Makoto..” Kashimo spoke, leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in his usual attire; a black tight shirt with white sweatpants. His dark eyes traced over your form, tilting his head at you. You attempted to ignore the way his lips twitched a bit, as if holding something back.

You quickly cleared your throat, “Did you.. uh— need her for something? She left early is all.”

Kashimo hummed softly, “No..I think you’ll do.”

“What?”

“Think you could get the kink out my arm? I must have.. punched the bag wrong.” Kashimo claimed, smiling down at you. You withtook a breath, clenching the strap of your bag tightly. He was lying, and he knew he was lying too. Kashimo Hajime, punching the bag wrong? You could almost laugh at the thought.

And that smile? Oh— it was far from genuine, far from pure. Every alarm in your head rung, warning you to refuse and leave. Yet, you didn’t listen to a single one. Your body instead turned, waltzing over to the desk and setting your things down. “You can sit on the bed. I’ll take a look at your arm.”

The words barely escaped you before the deafening sound of the door closed behind him, a soft thanks, escaping him as he sat down. You felt his eyes on your every move, watching as you approached the sink and began to wash your hands— shakily, you might add. You spent extra time there, afraid to face the man.

Soon enough, however, you grabbed a paper towel from beside you; drying your hands and turning the faucet off. Tossing the soiled towel in the trash, you turned and walked over to him. “Wh—which arm?” You questioned softly, watching as he lifted his right one. You nibbled on your cheek, gently grabbing his bicep, thumbs pressing against the muscle carefully.

“If it starts to hurt, tell me..” You murmured softly, room back to being silent. This was stupid really; you making such a show of things. You knew he wasn’t hurt, shown in the way he reacted little with each squeeze you gave him; even pressing harder to see if he would react.

Like you suspected, Kashimo didn’t react at all.

“I wonder..” You blinked as his words interrupted your jumbled thoughts, blinking over to him. He was already staring at you, a small smirk pulling his lips. One that caused your stomach to drop. One that he wore in the lounge room that day. “—when you connected the dots, when you found out it was me.. did still watch me?”

You breathed softly, releasing his arm. “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.” You played at acting dumb, a useless facade he didn’t fall for at all. Instead, Kashimo chuckled softly, turning to glance away from you.

“Oh, don’t play dumb sweetheart. You know I’m asking if you fucked yourself to my videos.” His tone was harsh, eyes turning back to you; gaze intense. You swallowed heavily, watching him slowly lift himself off the bed. You stepped back, murmuring as he met your step, backing you against the cabinets. “Bet you wished it was my cock instead of your fingers; splitting you open, fucking you until your nothing but a crying mess.”

“Kashimo..” You spoke softly, rising your hands and placing them at his waist. You needed space, air— you felt like you would suffocate with his large form covering; with his smell swarming your senses. You gasped softly as his lips moved to your ear, cool breath tickling your skin. “Please..”

“Haven’t even touched you and you’re already beggin’ for me.” His words were mocking, a breathy chuckle escaping him shortly after. “Go on.. tell me what you want, [Name].”

You could nearly moan at the way your name fell from his lips, eyes pinched closed as your hands crumbled his shirt in a tight grip. You struggled for a moment to form words, eyes pinned to the floor to avoid his gaze. Unfortunately for you, this was one of the few times Kashimo was ever patient; hands seated perfectly on the porcelain cabinets, refusing to touch you until you answer his question.

Finally, after what seemed like moments you glanced up at him, rising to lock your lips with his own. You, please. Was what you whimpered into his mouth, feeling him react immediately. A hand rose to wrap around your neck, the other coming to the underside of your thigh. Kashimo’s clenched around your throat a little, driving his tongue into your mouth and marking it as his own. You whined softly at this, gripping his shirt so much the fear of ripping it entered your mind briefly. The heavy makeout continued only his hand dropped from your neck, grasping your either thigh and lifting you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him walk backwards until he sat on the bed.

Your pussy rested just above his crotch, feeling his hardening length through the fabric of your stockings and his sweats. Your arms wrapped around his neck, murmuring against his lips as you slowly ground against him. To your dismay; the man rose his hand, slamming his palm against your ass— the sting causing you to jump, pulling back as a whine escaped your throat. “Kashimo—!” You hissed softly, glaring at the man who grinned back at you.

His fingers soothed the path, rubbing slowly circles into your covered skin, gripping every once in a while. “I suggest you fix your face or you won’t be coming at all tonight.” Kashimo breathed, slapping the same cheek once again. You lurched forward, gripping him so harshly as a soft cry escaped you. “Gonna take my time with you.. explore every inch of you under these clothes,” He hummed softly, hand reaching under your black dress, running his fingers across your thinly covered ass.

“— and i’m not gonna rush just cause your slutty pussy is desperate for my attention.”

“Kashimo…” You whined softly, pleading with your eyes. The man only smiled at you, a sinister smile; highlighting how much he enjoyed toying with you.

“It’s Hajime, princess.” The martial artist corrected, leaning to place wet kisses against your cheeks and neck. You moaned softly, feeling his fingers curl under your dress, slowly pulling it up your body. You moved uncomfortably as the cool air hit your bare skin, feeling him reach behind you; fiddling with your bra for a moment. Once he had unclipped the undergarment he tossed it aside with your dress, pulling back to glance at your exposed chest. You grew nervous under his gaze, having half a mind to cover yourself. Only, he didn’t give you enough time to do so before his large hands grabbed the soft mounds, leaning down to suck a kiss on your collarbone.

His thumbs pressed against your slowly hardening nipple, nicking your skin with his canines. You breathed softly at this, hands rising to curl your fingers into his hair, gasping as you felt his kisses lower; soft lips grazing your areola before he opened his mouth— wrapping his lips around your nipple. The unfamiliar feeling caused you to gasp, eyes pinched closed as you felt him began to suck; gently grazing his teeth across your heated skin while his tongue slid across your pretty bud. Hajime’s other hand was busy playing with your unattended breast, groping and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

Your moans grew, rising your chest into his face more; chasing after the pleasure he was giving, searching for more. All he was doing was sucking your breasts and yet, your pussy was clenching around nothing— feeling as if you were an inch away from release. You gasped out as he gently clamped down on your nipple, rolling the tender bud to hear you squeal. The ministrations continued as a hand traveled down your body, tracing the stretch marks that lined your skin— rubbing across your rolls before his fingers collected your stockings; pulling them down your body with such force they began to rip.

“Ha—hajime, they’re ripping.” You whimpered softly, words ignored as he snatched the rest of the ruined fabric from your body, tossing it to the forming pile. Your breath hitched as his hand traveled between your legs, two fingers gliding across your covered slit, feeling the wet spot forming on your panties. A soft swear escaped you as he pushed down, pressing against your clit, slowing rolling circles against it.

The added pleasure caused you to lean your head back, eyes pinched close as the feeling consumed your body. This was wrong, more than wrong actually. He was a patient and this was your boss’s office, the bed used by several others when being checked on. Yet here the two of you were, dirtying it with your own selfish desires. You should be embarrassed, maybe even ashamed.

Maybe you would feel so after he was done with you.

A soft pop escaped him as he rose away from your chest, the pretty mounds now tainted with his saliva. His eyes carried down your form, enjoying the sight; your hips moving at an attempt to find more friction in his hand, biting your bottom lip to cover the soft, pretty breaths threatening to escape your throat. Hajime hated himself for waiting to touch you like this.. to make you his. His eyelids lowered as he leaned close, pressing hot kisses against your skin again. “Using my hand to get off, huh? How pathetic..”

In any other situation you would have been offended by his choice of words, but now? It only caused you to moan softly, hips moving fast against his hand— feeling Hajime’s lips move over to your throat. You gripped him as you felt yourself grow more and more aroused, a band forming that was ready to break. Your moans grew louder as you got closer, digging your fingers into his shoulders before your eyes widened; feeling him move his hand away from between your legs.

The band slowly faded, high slipping through your fingers. You nearly sobbed— his name exiting you in a soft whine as the man did nothing but grin down at you. Hajime’s hands traveled up your form, soon tenderly wrapping his fingers around your neck, leaning close.

“Quit whinin’..” He cooed, stamping a kiss against your skin. You gasped as you felt his hood tighten a bit, hand drifting right back between your legs, breaching your panties. Without much warning he curled two fingers inside you, feeling your wet walls clench his thick digits. You swore softly, feeling his fingers reach much deeper then your own could; stretching you out and working you open.

Your pussy began to squelch with each thrust of the digits inside you, thumb rising to push against your engorged clit; hand continuing to hold you steady by the throat. Hajime enjoyed the way your pretty broken moans escaped your throat, voice vibrating against his palm. He curled his fingers once more, watching the way you jumped, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Can’t believe I’m fucking you dumb just from my fingers..” The words came out in an astonished coo, cock twitching under the confinements of his sweats and pants. Oh he couldn’t wait.. wait to see the way you fell apart as he split you open with his length.

But he needed to be patient. Needed to warm you up properly before completely ruining you.

So the pace of his fingers quickened, sounds of your messy pussy surrounding the room; acting as background noise for the high-pitched moans that escaped you. Your hips met each thrust, gripping his wrist to ground yourself. Your thighs squeezed his forearm, head knocking back as you came all over his hand. The man’s fingers soon slowed to a complete stop, withdrawing them from your wetness.

You barely registered him sticking his fingers into his mouth, sucking your mess off them. Once they were clean he leaned forward, kissing you softly— allowing you to taste yourself. So dirty..

Your lips moved slow, his thumb tracing your throat as a soft praise pushed from his lips. Soon enough you felt his hips rise, pressing his clothed cock against your wetness, grinding slowly. Even if you were still sensitive from just a few moments ago, you wanted, no, needed him desperately. So much so it nearly physically hurt.

Hajime rose, switching your positions to slowly lay you out on the bed, pushing you up higher. You whined as he body left you for a second, the sound quickly dying down when you noticed him unclothing. First was his shirt, revealing his sculpted torso and that damned happy trail. The man smirked at you as he tossed his shirt to the side, reaching for his bottoms next. Pushing them down, you watched as his length was revealed. To have it right infront of you rather then on a screen, well.. your phone didn’t do him justice at all.

“‘S not gonna fit.” You mused softly, eyes snapping back to his face, nervous. Hajime almost felt prideful from your words if it wasn’t for your tone of voice. He leaned close, pressing a kiss to your chin. “I’ll make it fit.” He mumbled, pushing close against you, grabbing his cock with one hand while the other grasped your thigh. Rubbing the tip across your slit, he smoothed your juices down his shaft, biting the inside of his cheek. Slowly, he pushed inside you, watching the way your eyebrows twitched, how your legs began to close.

A pained sigh escaped you, Hajime smoothing his hand up and down your heated skin. “Taking me so well, baby.. Just relax.” He spoke softly, hissing when he felt your walls clench from the praise. Soon enough his hips stilled the moment he pushed all the way inside, grasping the underside of your thighs— eyes closed. It took everything not to fuck you into the bed right then and there, feeling the way you carefully moved to adjust yourself; but each clench caused his resolve to wither away more and more.

Moments passed before Hajime opened his eyes, glancing down at you and searching for any sign of pain. When he realized there was none, he experimentally pulled his hips back so only his tip was inside, pushing back in— watching in delight at the way your mouth fell open in a ring O.

Nothing else held the martial artist, soft ruts quickly changing into slams. His cock bullied it’s way inside you, filling you completely. Your legs shook in his hold, gripping the fabric underneath you as broken moans escaped you. Hajime was knocking the wind out of you; pushing your legs up higher so that your knees were touching your chest. The stretch was uncomfortable for a moment, something you would surely feel in the morning— but you didn’t care. The pleasure this man was giving you overshadowed it all.

Your walls clenched him with each drag of his hips, his dark eyes captivated by the way you hugged him so tightly. “Wanted me so fucking bad, didn’t you, princess?“ Hajime hissed, grinning as he watched your eyes attempt to focus on him. The man chuckled softly to himself, leaning over you, trapping you under his body. “Oh, you don’t have to answer sweetheart— I already know the truth.”

The man was drilling into you at this point, tip kissing your g-spot as shameless cries escaped you. Tears treaded down your warm cheeks, grasping his arms for stability. Your breaths were hurried, stomach clenching as you felt yourself get closer and closer. “H—haji.. Fuck, I’m so close!”

He relished under the nickname, slamming you into the bed as he planted hot kisses against your skin. “Go on, then. Make a mess on my cock, sweet girl.” With his permission you came, gushing around him; arousal dripping down his length to the floor. You trembled from the feeling, gasping once you realized he hadn’t stopped moving. So sensitive you were, crying out to him as you reached to grip his arm.

“I—I cant, Haji—!”

“You can..“ The man corrected, angling his hips to push deeper inside you. “Waited so long to fuck you like this, to watch you go dumb on my cock— ‘M not stopping until I repay you for those three weeks.”

And he wasn’t lying either. It was almost felt like hours passed with him putting you into different positions, driving you deeper and deeper into the bed to the point it began to creak. By now you could barely speak, could barely form a sound other then a jumbled babble of his name and a soft gasp.

In the midst of it all you were suddenly pushed against the wall, thighs wrapped around his form as he shoved himself into you; a spark of pain washing over you each time he brushed your cervix— pain that melted away rather quickly.

From the way his hips stuttered you knew he was close, his face pushed into your neck as he gripped your skin harshly. Skin on skin contact filled the room, desperate sounds of pleasure following until Hajime swore; spilling into you. The warmth alone pushed you over the edge, cumming for the upteenth time that night— walls milking his cock.

The man’s hips finally came to a halt, breathing heavily as he simply held you there up against the wall. After a few moments he walked backwards, sitting on the bed; the two of you groaning in sensitivity. He pulled your hot body against his own, cradling your lower back with his fingers tracing the dimples there.

The room was silent as the two of you caught your breath, simply enjoying holding the other.

Soon enough the man pulled back, continuing to smooth his hands across your skin. “You’ll probably have to call in sick tomorrow.” Hajime murmured, grinning at the soft chuckle that escaped you.

“Yeah.. you’re probably right.”

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (1)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Puppy, (see premise post or series)

Summary: An ultra-shy man named Grant arrives with various friends to your family-owned motel. He opens up slowly over the months...and grows a fantastic beard. 🤭

While this part has no mature situations, this series will be 18+ only. MINORS DNI. This is mostly pure setup for the smut in every future chapter. Your media consumption is your responsibility; please choose for yourself if these matters trigger you. If so, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this work is not it! WC ~2k

He first arrives with only his friend—two fit fellas, one white, one black. They pay in cash, share a double room. The most information you get is Tom Smith, the more open of the two, joking that you’ll have to excuse Grant’s shyness.

Grant doesn’t seem to respond to his own name.

He’s a beefy blond, and your impression is the man doesn’t need to have a lot going on up top to get by in life. You do try not to judge, though. Your job is more about keen observation and recognizing the needs of your guests.

These two guests need privacy. They aren’t unfriendly, but they are not chatty. They go as quickly as they came. One night. The room is slept in, but they were clean enough.

The next time they show up they need three rooms, but you only have two available. Tom and Grant bunk up again, and a couple are with them who do not come into the office. The woman has beautiful auburn hair that she covers with a ball cap, and her very tall beau—whose hand she holds—shields himself in far more clothing than necessary this time of year.

They all sleep (you assume) during the day and only socialize at night when the other guests aren’t around.

Not that the party is loud; they simply seem more at ease when it’s harder to see. They stay three or four days, leaving rather suddenly early one night after paying for the time already.

Sporadically, this continues.

Once it’s only the couple. She is very reserved and he is very awkward, but again nice enough. They stay for nearly two weeks, enjoying hikes in the area, always holding hands. The woman relaxes significantly. It’s quite lovely to see.

Mister and Misses Durham, you know them as. They don’t always respond by name either.

Another visit makes five guests with the addition of a beautiful young woman. Her hair is cropped and bleach blond, and she is by far the most at ease.

It’s this visit that you realize they are just staying in their rooms during the day not sleeping, and you find the karaoke machine to take to Tom’s room.

He’s thrilled, thank goodness, because you don’t normally offer up activities to those who don’t ask about them, but Tom bangs on the doors of the other two (you think) couples so they can join him.

You’re about to leave when he asks you to do a duet with him.

Grant throws out that Tom enjoys Marvin Gaye. It’s the most you’ve heard him say, ever.

“I do,” Tom agrees, “but I don’t mess with the master.”

So you have the idea to sing Marvin Gaye—the song—with Tom as Charlie Puth and you as Meghan Trainor.

It’s quite a lot of fun, belting as best you can, finding Grant’s intense gaze on you for the lyrics:  I’m like a stray without a home… I’m like a dog without a bone…

Just as quickly, however, you have to go back to the front desk. Duty calls and all.

You make sure they know the machine is all theirs for as long as they want. Their rooms are too far down the line of the building to hear if they do enjoy it for long, but you get no complaints about noise. You hope for the best.

Later that night, Grant comes by the office, carrying the machine with a smirk on his face and the most genuine appreciation on his lips. He has a lovely deep voice you never knew about.

He just talks to you.

It’s all superficial conversation about the area, the weather, what activities you like on your days off, but even that seems a struggle for him.

Tom was not kidding. His friend is extremely shy. He has trouble thinking up casual questions. He can’t look you in the eye until responding, and he doesn’t give more than a few words in answer to anything.

You laugh--you have to—when Grant asks if he can walk you to your door, which…is ludicrous because you live in the house a whopping fifty meters past the main motel. Your family has owned and run this place for three generations. You’ve walked that path your whole life.

“I like walking,” he shrugs, though from the sheer muscles on him, he does way more than just walk. “I was gonna do a lap or two anyway.”

“Well, I have to wait for Clark to show up, but—“ you look him up and down “—okay.”

Grant is so sweet but so stiff. He holds himself with purpose when actively thinking, but you catch him having these distant moments. He withers like a violet, a shell that’s too small for his big body. He seems lost and lonely.

You’re glad to do whatever keeps him company. Your goal for the night is to make Grant smile as much as humanly possible, but that’s difficult when he won’t let you know anything about him.

Twenty minutes later, Clark, a local stoner kid who hardly looks up from his phone, waltzes in, stepping around Grant like a wall that’s always been there and throwing a “hey, man” out with zero regard for a response. Classic Clark. That’s why he’s on night shifts.

So you grab your bag and let Grant hold the door open for you.

Maybe you’ve been watching the Durhams too much when they come around, but you feel a compulsion to hold his hand. You don’t, obviously, because you only just heard this guy speak for the first time today. It would also be incredibly awkward to hold Grant’s hand in the dead silence that follows on your way up the gravel path.

You’re so consumed by figuring out what to say next that you don’t notice till the beast is right there.

An elk walks right in front of you, taller than Grant. From this angle the animal blocks the entire view of your house it’s so big, and you jump back, slamming into your startled escort’s chest.

You both freeze as it moves slowly at a diagonal to the other side of woods, bringing it and its gigantic horns closer still.

It squawks like some sort of awful banshee and stamps huge hoofs. You throw your weight backward and spin to flee, clambering over Grant’s body.

Why you’re so scared, who knows; you should be used to the wildlife, but no creature has ever done this before.

The most shocking thing, however, is how strongly Grant tries to hold you immobile.

The harsh grip on your waist and the way he hisses through his teeth for you to stop should be your hint, but instead you cling to him harder, asking quietly if the animal is gone.

“Uh…” Grant tenses against you. “It’s…it’s just—“ he shudders when you wriggle “—yes, gone,” he bites out, pushing you away by the hips.

He takes a second to breathe, buries his hands in his pockets, and leans forward, gathering himself.

It was scary. That could have turned nasty very quickly. You were lucky Grant was there and calm…except he was sorta the reason you were distracted in the first place.

Finally composed, he sighs and motions forward. “Let’s get you home.”

Two months later, Grant’s initial five o’clock shadow has come in nicely.

You’ve learned the routine of their check-in. There’s only one room available, unfortunately, but if they stay more than two days, there should be another open.

Tom shrugs and offers a playful, “we’ll see. We go where the wind takes us.” He smooths his palm over a fresh fade at his nape and the sharp angles of his goatee.

“And you, I see, have stopped in for a cut with Terrence in town. He loves the three slices like that.” That's how the barber marks his work. Terrence's shop is very popular.

“It’s a good signature. Wish I could'a convinced this big lug to get a trim.” Tom elbows his friend who stares at his feet.

Grant runs his fingers through his golden locks and swallows. “Yeah, well, maybe next time.”

Without realizing what you’re doing, you stand on the rungs of your stool behind the counter and reach for his lusciously full beard.

“Don’t you dare get rid of this,” you chide, fingertips grazing the skin of his cheek beneath the course yet soft hairs.

You should apologize. You should let go and sit back down. You should professionally hand them their key and be done with it, but instead, you linger, watching his blue eyes darken with a primal devastation.

He’s prey caught in a cage.

You release Grant’s face with an awkward laugh and a shake of your head.

Tom makes his own, very knowing face, and winks.

“You should do that more. Touch him. He could use it.”

Grant clears his throat harshly and blushes, mumbling something about which room number you said they had and that he’ll bring the other bags from the car. He leaves. Tom takes the keys with another wink and a sassy tap on the hardwood.

“Thank ya, ma’am. We appreciate it.”

It’s about twenty minutes later when your pen rolls off the edge of the counter, you find a small duffle left where Grant stood.

“He was joking. It was a joke,” Grant blurts when he finds you standing there to give it back.

You just smile and say Tom isn’t wrong.

“So, if you ever just want a hug…” you mutter, taking a chance to scratch at his bearded chin again. “Not like you’re gonna hurt me.”

He looks back inside, as if seeking permission or checking to make sure his friend is still in the bathroom, singing in the shower.

Grant can’t seem to meet you halfway, but he does inch forward, struggling to word a simple ‘yes.’

The tentative embrace starts with only the top of his chest touching you, bent so his butt is out, no pressure on his hands at your shoulders, so you push a little more and a little more. You get close enough he needs to wrap his arms around you instead. He has to stand straight so his chin doesn’t poke your forehead. He whimpers slightly when your own arms encircle his tiny waist.

A few breaths later, he relaxes into a lovely full-body hug, his rough fingertips on your bare skin where your shirt bunched up. You’re both being human, no more, no less, tangled in simple comfort.

Grant tucks his face into your collarbone suddenly and squeezes, not so hard that it hurts but not gently either. The move tickles you with his beard, your hands pawing up his back as you giggle, and he whines like wounded prey.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothe. “I can be here, if you want, to hold. It’s okay.”

That has the opposite effect you intended, knocking him out of some soft reverie and launching him back a foot, a necessary but unwelcome distance.

Grant looks guilty, needy, and resigned as he thanks you for returning the bag and sees you out the door.

dividers by cafekitsune and firefly-graphics

A/N: This will be the shortest (probably) of all the parts, and yeah, we get into some smuttier moments pretty quickly... Stay tuned!

[Next Part: Sweet Baby]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes