#class ff

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was getting my associates degree I took a course on human sexuality. It was really fascinating and wonderful. One of our assignments was to write about the first time we ever masturbated which was very uncomfortable and silly at the same time.

Mine was extremely boring because there’s nothing exciting about a five year old realizing that climbing the fire pole feels really good.

I told a coworker at the time about the assignment and she laughed and told me about her daughter. They had these really old dining room chairs with carved legs. The chairs had smooth wood bulbs going up them that the kid loved to rub on.

Her mom didn’t want to dissuade her or make her ashamed but she also needed to establish that masturbation should always be private. So she talked to her daughter and explained that she could do that but must do it in her room alone.

The result of which was that everyone was aware the girl was going to masturbate when she dragged the chair into her room to be alone with it.

My friends was my favorite though, because his discovery was in stages. He liked it when his penis would get hard as a kid because it meant he could grab it and pretend to be flying a helicopter. His aha moment was when this happened once in the shower and the grabbing plus soap made him realize something else might be going on.

That was funny on its own, but nothing could match when in the most betrayed tone he said, “It was so much more fun then, before stuff came out at the end.”

[juliettejwnewinesa]

can u please do a fic with sieun x a reader who have big boobs and he can’t stop looking at them?😞

Title: Can’t Look Away Pairing: Yeon Si-eun x Fem!Reader (Y/N) Rating: 18+ Content: oral (f receiving), breast fixation, slight dom!Sieun, teasing, obsession, heavy eye contact, possessiveness, creampie, lots of focus on boobs, mutual pining explosion

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

It started with the tank top.

Y/N didn’t think twice when she tugged it on that morning — thin, barely-there cotton, no bra. They’d both been lounging around the apartment all weekend anyway. She wasn’t expecting company. But the second she walked out of her bedroom and caught sight of Si-eun on the couch, her stomach twisted.

He was looking at her like he’d never seen her before.

Or maybe like he’d been trying not to look for a very long time — and something inside him just finally snapped.

His jaw tightened. His eyes dropped for a half-second — too long. She watched his throat move as he swallowed, and then he looked away completely, like if he didn’t, he’d do something stupid.

She raised a brow. "Something wrong?"

“No,” he muttered quickly, far too quickly. “You’re—fine.”

But his hands were clenched into fists in his lap. His face was red.

She smirked. "Sure I am."

Y/N walked past him slowly, making a show of reaching up to stretch on her toes, pretending to grab something off the top shelf. Her tits shifted under the thin fabric — no bra, no shame. She could feel his stare burning a hole in her back.

“Are you—” His voice cracked. “Are you seriously not wearing a bra right now?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I’m home, aren’t I?”

Si-eun didn’t respond. His eyes were glued to her chest now, shamelessly. Like he was starving. Like he’d been dying to look for months and finally couldn’t pretend anymore.

“…You’re making it really hard to be respectful,” he said hoarsely.

Y/N turned, taking a step closer. Her tone was teasing, but her heart thudded loud in her chest. “I didn’t realize looking was so disrespectful.”

He let out a bitter laugh, leaning back into the couch like he was trying to escape. His thighs spread, and she couldn’t help but glance at the thick, very obvious bulge tenting his sweats.

“I’ve been trying not to look, Y/N. For so long. But you’re always—” He gestured weakly at her chest, breathing heavy. “You wear the tightest shit and just… bounce around the apartment like it’s nothing.”

“I don’t bounce.”

“Yes, the fuck you do.”

She grinned, heat pooling low in her belly. “So look.”

His eyes snapped up to her face, stunned.

“I’m serious,” she whispered. “If you want to stare, stare. I don’t mind.”

His mouth parted like he wanted to say something, but instead, he surged forward and grabbed her waist, pulling her down onto his lap. She gasped — and then his mouth was on her neck, his hands sliding under the hem of her shirt to cup her tits, thumbs brushing over her nipples.

“Oh my god,” he groaned against her skin. “They’re so soft. I’ve been losing my mind, Y/N.”

Her head fell back as he palmed them roughly, squeezing like he couldn’t believe they were real. His cock was hard under her, twitching against her ass with every grind of her hips.

"You have no idea how many times I jerked off thinking about these." His voice was ragged, almost angry. "No idea how many times I had to stop myself from staring when you wore those stupid little pajama tops."

“You could’ve had them any time,” she whispered.

That made him freeze. He pulled back to look at her.

"You’re serious."

“I’ve wanted you just as long, Si-eun.”

Something in his expression snapped. He yanked the tank top up and over her head in one swift motion, groaning low in his chest when her tits bounced free.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

He ducked down and latched onto her nipple with a low growl, sucking hard, tongue swirling in slow, messy circles. His other hand massaged the opposite breast — not gentle, not shy — like he needed to feel every inch. She gasped, rocking against him harder.

"You like that?" he muttered, lips wet, still attached to her skin.

“Yes,” she breathed, clinging to his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. If anything, he got rougher. His tongue flicked and dragged, his teeth grazing just enough to make her whine. When he pulled back to catch his breath, a trail of spit connected him to her nipple. His eyes were dark, almost feral.

"You look so good like this," he murmured, voice low. “All flushed and needy. Mine.”

She shivered. “Then take me.”

That was all he needed.

Si-eun flipped her onto the couch, yanked her shorts down in one go, and shoved her legs apart. His mouth was on her in seconds — licking, sucking, tongue moving in circles until she was shaking. And the entire time, his hand never left her chest. He was obsessed, thumb rubbing her nipple while his tongue worked below.

She came hard, crying out, legs trembling around his head.

Then he climbed up, finally yanking his sweats down, and her eyes widened — thick, flushed, already dripping with precum.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you like this?” he asked, lining up with her soaked entrance. “With your tits bouncing in my face?”

She nodded frantically. “Please.”

He slammed in all at once, groaning loudly. His hands immediately went to her chest, gripping, kneading, like he couldn't help it. She was soaking, clenching around him, overwhelmed.

He watched them the whole time he fucked her — wide-eyed, transfixed, like nothing else existed. Every time they bounced, he groaned louder, hips snapping harder.

“Look at them,” he panted. “Fuck, I’m gonna come—gonna come just from watching them—”

“Do it,” she begged. “Come inside me.”

He did. With a deep, choked moan, he buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside, grinding through it, still staring at her tits as they bounced with every pulse.

When he finally stilled, chest heaving, he collapsed onto her.

After a long beat of silence, he muttered into her neck, “I’m never gonna recover from this.”

Y/N laughed breathlessly, combing her fingers through his hair.

“And I’m never wearing a bra again.”

[1driedpersimmon]

Let it not be said that magic users are not physically strong 💪☺️

(In other words I’ve made Kaiien a summoner hehe)

[moeblob]

Shane but black mage but chicks.

[rulettebitch]

Masterlist

here is my masterlist darlings ( ˘ ³˘)

pink means smut!

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂

Robbie Turner

Uncharted Territory

Georgia Clark was changing bandages, gulping at the look of the rushed stitches between his chest. He was asleep, his face was twitching before waking up. His breath hitched, his cold blue eyes searched for something, or someone. One look was enough to tell how harsh war had treated him. TW! angst, hurt/confort, cecilia is dead, jealousy, making out, unprotected sex.

Chap 1 │ Chap 2 │ Chap 3 │ Chap 4 │ Chap 5 │ Chap 6

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂

Charles Xavier

The night you kissed me

Elora Cuana was born with a gift. She was, what someone would call, a mutant. No one had really noticed her gift, even if it was hard to keep a secret. People would say she had been blessed with beauty, and nothing more. From every side, every angle, she was ravishing to no avail. Her mutancy had been easy to deal with, not even she had noticed the oddness of her angelic features. There was no death count to her power, because she seemed to have no power. Until recently, only one man had neglected her advances. Charles Xavier could not reach her mind, and she could not reach his pants, or can she? TW! tease, m!masturbation, f!masturbation, f!oral sex, making out, unprotected sex.

A part of us

Once, you and Charles Xavier were everything to each other—now, he’s a ghost at your door, stirring old wounds. But Logan’s words, raw and real, confessed a truth you couldn’t ignore. Torn between betrayal and confession, who do you choose when your heart is split in two? Charles Xavier x Reader x Wolverine

Chap 1 │ Chap 2 │ Chap 3 │Chap 4 │ Chap 5 │ Chap 6 │Chap 7 │ Chap 8│ Chap 9 │Chap 10 │Chap 11 │Chap 12 │Chap 13 │Chap 14 │Chap 15 │Chap 16 │Chap 17 │Chap 18 │Chap 19 │Chap 20 │Chap 21 │Charles' Ending │ Logan's Ending

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂

Brian Jackson

Sore Loser

The bottle stopped spinning. You grinned at him from across the circle, mischief glinting in your eyes. Before he could overthink it—before he could ruin it—you leaned in, and your lips met. Who would imagine Brian Jackson to be such a fuckboy? TW! tease, first time, m!masturbation, f!oral sex, making out, unprotected sex.

Chap 1 │ Chap 2 │ Chap 3 │Chap 4 │ Chap 5 │ Chap 6

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂

Bruce Robertson

Bite me

Bruce Robertson does not give a shit about the weather. In fact, he thinks he’s better. Amanda Drummond has drunk a little bit too much. TW! dubious consent, mention of drugs, angst, in public, jealousy, making out, unprotected sex, asphyxiation.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂

Tom Lefroy

Out of touch

Tom Lefroy enters a brothel expecting indulgence, but instead finds himself utterly schooled. With sharp wit and a stolen kiss, you leave the arrogant charmer breathless, his confidence shaken, and his education—unexpectedly—expanded. TW! prostitution, in public, making out, mention of f!oral.

Chap 1 │ Chap 2 │ Chap 3 │Chap 4 │ Chap 5

[gundamfight]

[1009files]

Liebestraum No. 3

synopsis Eighteen year old Y/n, the daughter of two accomplished musicians, spends her summers surrounded by aspiring artists in her father’s prestigious program. Among them is Heeseung, a quiet, talented pianist who captivates Y/n with his reserved nature and mysterious charm. Amid the music, family expectations, and unspoken feelings, Y/n must navigate her growing affection for Heeseung and decide what she truly wants for her future—and her heart.

word count 2k+

contains fluff, summer love, rivals to lovers, teenagers in love, eventual smut (in the next chapters), comfort, heeseung x reader, slow burn

author’s note hi guys! this is my first post and first time writing something like this~ english is not my main language so there might be errors! i wish to make this a series with an eventual time skip to make things more interesting <3 i hope you like it^^

chapter 1

Your fingers softly brushed through the black and white tiles, like a ballerina spinning rapidly on her pointy shoes. They danced, at times increasing their speed, hungrier and expectant for the next one, until the running stopped.

Your right hand played a single-note melody, while the left one sustained a long, flowing chord. Your fingers were delicate now, more careful as if you were too scared to touch the piano, or it might break into million pieces.

“Incredible! Truly stunning, my dear!”

You didn’t notice your mother entering the studio with a satisfied look on her face, making you suddenly aware of your surroundings, while turning to look at her.

“Oh my, mom! I told you not to startle me when I practice!”

Your parents loved to brag about you with the rest of your family and friends. You knew you were good, but you were a perfectionist and always aimed for more.

“What can I say, you are indeed your father’s child…besides, dinner is ready and tomorrow is an important day~” she said with a sweet tone, still looking more serious, reminding you of your duties.

You know what was next, you wouldn’t have the room just for yourself. The blinds would finally be shut open, welcoming the light from the sun that would soon illuminate the big wooden piano in the center of the room. The pillows of the sofa and most books from the library would be scattered around and the little glass table in front of it would have pastries and beverages ready for everyone, while your father would begin to explain the summer program to his students.

You were used to this, it wasn’t really a big deal to you.

For almost three years your father had been welcoming his most privileged pupils to hold private lessons for them, preparing them to enter the prestigious conservatory in your city, which your eighteen year old self was expectant to attend.

Most students returned each summer, some aimed to enter the academy but still came for extra practice. This is actually how you met your current best friend, Jungwon.

His cheerful personality made it easy for you to get along with him. He was a bit of a prankster and sooner or later, you two found yourselves running around the tight colored alleys of the countryside, under the hot sun of the summer.

“Y/n wait!”

“Come on, Jungwon! Are you really scared of a little water??” You said, wetting him with a hose you found on a nearby garden.

“What are you saying?? I’m completely soaked! Your mom will kill us if we enter the house like this!”

Your eyes suddenly widened.

Oh my god. The music sheets.

Screw the water, you were supposed to keep them completely safe and now they were most likely wet and-

Jungwon started laughing at your shocked expression. Making his way to his backpack, he quickly took the precious dry and brand-new looking sheets out, holding them in his hand.

“You looking for these?” He smirked with an entertained look in his face.

“Give me those! Oh my God, Jungwon I almost died!”

“You’re such a drama queen!” He laughed, running away from you.

You two were actually pretty similar. Even though he was younger, there was a sparkle of responsibility in his behavior that often made you come to your senses. You could always count on him, that’s why most of the time you confessed your cheesy teenage stories and dreams to each other, whether it was an awkward situation or a romantic interest, like the big crush you had on Lee Heeseung.

Well, you still didn’t know yet.

Your first impression of Heeseung was that he was pretty shy. You were introverted yourself, but he wasn’t much of a talker—for some reason, that made you curious and at times, you would act bratty around him. You knew this wasn’t the best way to approach him, but you felt like that was the only way to get close to him…as if that made any sense.

Like you, he was considered pretty talented: the boy had a perfect pitch and he could play both the piano and the guitar. Despite his age, he was a bit taller than you and you couldn’t help but notice his big brown eyes scanning the studio, before entering each time.

Did he see me staring?—you’d think, quickly gazing away from him when his eyes met yours.

He was magnetic and you couldn’t resist, but you always wondered where your sudden curiosity for him came from.

What’s your deepest meaning for music, Lee Heeseung?

Can I share my secrets with you?

Why don’t you talk to me?

It wasn’t easy for him to break his shell either.

One night, you were all seated around the big table outside the house, a plastic cloth on it and half a watermelon cut into portions for everyone to eat. The air was humid and salty, as if the sea wasn’t so far from the porch. After a nice dinner, your parents left soon to sleep, so you were chatting under the starry night.

“I didn’t think you’d come back this year as well, Hoon. ” Jungwon asked, shuffling some cards between his fingers.

Sunghoon stretched on the chair with his arms behind his head. “Yeah well, my parents think my sister still needs some practice before she’ll get used to the conservatory,” he said, turning to look at you. “So i thought I’d come to say hi again...”

You instinctively blushed and looked down at your hands. There was always some sort of connection between you two. He was the child of two talented musicians, so him and his sister would often spend their summer at the studio.

“My parents always have a plan for everything…” he admitted, for a moment lost in his thoughts. You knew what he meant.

“Sounds like you’ve got your whole life mapped out…does it ever get old?” Jungwon sighed with a knowing look.

Despite your talent, sometimes you wondered if your passion really did come from a deep interest or rather you were supposed to like it, because that is how things went for you.

On the other side of the table, Heeseung was listening to the conversation while taking a bite out of his gelato. With him hanging around this time, those thoughts weren’t so rare. You turned your head to look at him. How was he always so calm about everything? Could he feel any emotion at all?

“Oh, Heeseung!“ Jungwon’s voice interrupted your thoughts. “I saw your recital last year!”

Liebestraum No. 3.

You remember Jungwon telling you about a performance that made him feel shivers all over his body. He was always the empathetic type, but he’s never had this kind of reaction for anything else before. He could almost feel everything around him transforming, Heeseeung’s figure in the middle of a moonlit garden. White lilies shimmering under the sky, the chilly air making them move at a slow pace.

“Seriously, how do you play like this without getting nervous?”

Not knowing how to take the compliment, Heeseung shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but smiled softly with a light flush on his cheeks.

So he wasn’t a robot?

You started to get annoyed at the idea that you never got to see his most vulnerable side. Sure, you could hear him playing in the studio sometimes, but it wasn’t the same thing.

A dry chuckle escaped your mouth.

“You make it sound so easy…” You murmur.

You didn’t want to be rude and knew that your comment was out of place. Immediately you shut your mouth.

“I-“ Your eyes widening.

Everybody’s attention was on you now, which you hated. Heeseung’s expression was once again unreadable.

“I’m going to bed.” You got up out of embarrassment and headed quickly to your room. Jungwon rushing behind you, but you ran faster up the stairs, until his voice calling you was long gone.

The sound of the waves filled up Heeseung’s ears. His pants were rolled up so the water on the shore wouldn’t wet them. Some clouds starting to prepare the sky for the rain. He liked the quiet, but often blamed himself for not stepping up at the right time. It wasn’t just his personality, Heeseung could be bold if he wanted to, he just preferred to observe from time to time.

Suddenly he heard your voice from afar. “Aren’t you coming to practice today? My dad has been looking for you everywhere…”

“I thought you didn’t want to see me?”

“Really? You barely ever spoke to me and that’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”

He took a step closer to you. His feet shifting the hot sand.

Standing in front of him you realized how tall he actually was. Some of his hair strands moved with the light wind and covered bits of his face. You felt your breath quicken as you tried to avoid his gaze.

He held out his hand to you.

“What?”

“Let’s try this again. Give me your hand please.” You freeze. “Uhm..”

“Come on…” He insisted. His eyebrows raising.

You reluctantly reached out, looking at him with squinted eyes, unsure of his intentions. He gently took your hand and kissed the back of it, leaning forward slightly.

You quickly got away from his hold.

“…Wh- What do you think you’re doing??”

His confidence suddenly gone as you noticed his ears getting red.

“I’m sorry. I-…I don’t know how to talk to you.” he admitted, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“You look…so dumb right now. ” you chuckled at his embarrassment, almost laughing.

“I know, I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable last night.” His eyes softening and looking more sincere.

You didn’t think he did. It was more like you acted out of jealousy and you only blamed yourself for that.

You cleared your throat, not wanting to remember what happened. “Uhm…do you want to get away from here? I’m sure my dad wouldn’t mind for today.” You lied, but Heeseung seemed chattier than usual so it was worth it. He was surprised at your statement but still nodded slowly. A big smile printed on his face.

It was almost evening and the sun was setting already. Everybody was getting ready for dinner, so you could feel the lights from inside the houses illuminating the streets of the village.

After walking for a while you reached a swing on a nearby park, Heeseung following you with an amused look on his face.

He was now standing in front of you. “What are you, ten?” a mocking tone in his voice.

You rolled your eyes and shot him a look. “You’re so boring…” You stuck out your tongue at him, a grin pulling at your lips. “Come on, push me.”

Heeseung chuckled, taking his hands out of his pockets.

“You’re older than me and yet, here you are, swinging your legs like a little kid…”

Besides his provocative comment, he stood behind you, pushing you from your back. He watched as the chilly wind brushed your hair away from your face, softly tickling his hands each time he touched you. He was as delicate as possible and found himself staring at the way your sundress perfectly hugged your lower waist. The ends of it moving back and forth with the swing and, as you got closer, he could almost taste the sweet strawberry scent of the lollipop you held in your hand.

Heeseung was intoxicated by you, and of course he blamed it all on his feverish teenage hormones. Things were still pretty awkward between you two, but right at that moment he felt bolder than usual. He pushed you again — once, then twice, and then a third time. You began to feel the swing slowing down, coming to a stop with a quiet creak. You glanced back at him, a confused frown tugging at your brows, only to freeze as his hand moved toward you.

Heeseung’s touch was careful at first, but it sent a jolt through you when his finger brushed down your exposed spine. You inhaled sharply, suddenly aware of the way your chest was rising and falling. He moved slowly, deliberately, his fingers tracing the line of your back with a tenderness you hadn’t expected. The cool rain, which had started to drizzle, landed softly on your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat that suddenly bloomed in your chest.

The touch lingered a little too long, his finger pressing gently into the curve of your lower back, making it hard to breathe. Everything around you seemed to blur, the sound of the rain mingling with the racing of your heartbeat. You couldn’t tell whether it was the rain or his touch that had made your skin shiver.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, he withdrew his hand, the sudden absence of his touch making you stand up, as though snapping yourself from a trance.

Turning around you noticed your drenched clothes. Your eyes widened as both of you realized how your parents would have eventually reacted if they saw you entering the house like this.

“We should head back.” You said.

Heeseung nodded at you with a soft smile, amused by your alerted reaction. Feeling the adrenaline rushing through his body, he started running and you followed him. You both were breathless, maybe because of your race, or maybe because of what had happened minutes before.

Reaching your house and not wanting to get caught, you exchanged a look with Jungwon who saw you from the window of the kitchen. His eyes widening. “What the…Get inside quickly!” He opened the porch door and let you in.

“Y/n you’re lucky nobody’s here! Where were you all day?? Go wash up before your mom comes back!”

You quickly ran upstairs, the sound of your wet footsteps echoing through the hallway, your heart still racing from the close call. You had barely made it inside before your mother could catch you drenched, and a wave of relief washed over you. You shut the bathroom door behind you, leaning against it for a moment to catch your breath. Heeseung’s touch, his hesitant smile, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

It had been too much, too fast, but you couldn’t deny the rush it left behind. You splashed your face with cold water, hoping to clear your head. You didn’t understand him yet, not fully. But somehow, you had a feeling you were about to.

to be continued…

[aug-guts]

My final project for my English literature class is to write a story and "present" it like the pilgrims in the Canterbury Tales and yall. Im deadass writing and am abt to read vld fanfic to my elective ela class first period on a Monday.

these nerds are so not ready for ts.

[markkiatocafe]

24/7 daydreaming abt calling jisung pretty boy

[vertigoartgore]

The Thing commission by cover artist/painter E.M. Gist (2022).

[ququb444hm]

ok satoru KNOWS he's pretty. and this is something you wouldn't deny if someone asked you if he was attractive bc he's satoru gojo like obv ?? but imagine the pure shock and devastating impact on his ego when you, the cute cafe worker at the place him and his friends frequently visit after class suddenly gathers up the courage to approach the group and asks—

"uhm hello! sorry, this is really weird, but could i have your number?"

geeking out of his mind, he tries to keep his composure so that he can respond to you without looking like an absolute idiot. "i'm really flattered sweets—"

but as it turns out, you were not talking to him, but to the cute girl behind him with the brown hair. "oh! i meant her..." you say as you sheepishly point to an already doubled over ieiri shoko who's laughing her ass off.

"just hollow purple yourself for that L"

[juliettejwnewinesa]

CAN U PLSSS DO A JEALOUS SIEUN FIC AND THE BOYS TEASING HIM ABOUT IT

Length: ~800 words POV: Third person Pairing: Park Si-eun x fem!Reader (uses "Y/N") Tone: Slow-burn tension, fluff, humor, jealousy, and a little smut at the end 💋 Setting: Canon-verse, post-season, the boys are all vibing

Title: Cold Shoulder, Warm Hands

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

It started with a laugh.

A stupid, high-pitched giggle that escaped Y/N's lips when Suho nudged her side with the end of a chopstick and made some dumb pun about fishcakes. Si-eun heard it from the kitchen, where he was refilling his water bottle. He wasn’t even part of the conversation. Wasn’t even looking at her.

But he heard the laugh. And he heard Suho's response: “Aw, that laugh is cute. You should do it more.”

Si-eun’s jaw twitched.

“Oi, lover boy,” Bumseok teased as he flopped onto the couch beside him later, elbow knocking his. “You’re glowering so hard I thought your soul left your body.”

Si-eun didn’t respond.

Suho was still talking to Y/N, way too close if you asked him. His hand lingered on the back of the chair she was sitting in, and she was smiling—no, laughing again—at whatever dumb story he was telling.

“Seriously,” Bumseok snorted. “You look like you're plotting Suho's murder.”

"I'm not jealous," Si-eun muttered.

"Never said that," Bumseok said innocently, and then leaned closer. “But if I did, you’d still be proving me right.”

It only got worse when Eunjang’s golden retriever, Ryu Seokdung, joined in.

“Y/N, wanna come with me to the convenience store? I need help picking chips.”

“She’s not your mom,” Si-eun muttered under his breath.

Ryu blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” Si-eun said stiffly, arms crossed.

Y/N blinked up from where she was squatting by the low table, rearranging snacks. “I don’t mind! Gimme a sec.”

Si-eun’s eyes narrowed.

Ryu grinned at him as he backed toward the door. “You coming too, Si-eun?”

Si-eun should’ve said no. He should’ve said he didn’t care. Instead, he stood without a word and followed them out like a silent bodyguard.

The teasing didn’t stop.

When they returned and Y/N offered Seokdung a bite of her snack first, Si-eun turned to stare blankly at the wall. When Suho sat beside her during the horror movie and she didn’t move, Si-eun stood up halfway through and pretended to go check his phone. When Bumseok caught him stealing a glance at her while she was curled up under a blanket, hair messy, face flushed from laughing too hard—

“Oh my god,” Bumseok whispered. “You’re so gone.”

“Shut. Up,” Si-eun hissed.

“You want her to sit on your lap, don’t you.”

“I will kill you.”

Si-eun wasn’t stupid. He knew she wasn’t flirting with them. Not really. Y/N was just nice. Too nice. She smiled easily, listened too well, and let her arm brush against Suho’s for too long without noticing.

But he noticed. Every single time.

The problem wasn’t her. The problem was him.

He had no claim. No right to feel possessive. Not unless she gave it to him. And she hadn’t. Not yet.

So he sat there and simmered. Silent. Cold. Jealous out of his goddamn mind.

It boiled over the night they all stayed late at the rooftop.

Everyone was tipsy on cheap beer and convenience store snacks. Y/N had her head on Suho’s shoulder, drowsy from laughing too hard. Ryu was sprawled beside them, already half asleep. Si-eun stood on the far end of the rooftop, hands in his pockets, staring at the skyline like it had offended him personally.

Bumseok sidled up beside him. “Bro. Come on.”

Si-eun ignored him.

“You know she only laughs like that with you,” Bumseok said. “The rest of us? We get the polite version.”

Si-eun’s jaw clenched. “She’s clearly not saving anything for me.”

“She doesn’t know she needs to.” Bumseok nudged him. “Make a move, man. Or else Suho’s gonna do it for you.”

That got his attention.

Si-eun turned sharply. “He wouldn’t.”

Bumseok just gave him a look. “He could.”

And that was enough.

Later, when everyone had left and Y/N lingered behind to help clean up, she found him still on the rooftop, alone.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

He didn’t turn around. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You barely said a word all night.”

He finally glanced over, eyes unreadable. “Maybe I didn’t have anything worth saying.”

Y/N frowned. “Did I do something?”

Silence.

And then—

“You were hanging on Suho the whole night.”

She blinked. “...I was?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Are you mad about that?”

His mouth twitched. “I don’t get mad.”

“You get moody.”

She stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “You’re jealous.”

He didn’t deny it.

Instead, Si-eun finally turned fully to face her, eyes dark. “I don’t like seeing other people touch what I want.”

Her breath caught. “What you want?”

He stepped closer, gaze intense. “You.”

The kiss was rough.

Not because he was angry—but because he’d been holding it back for weeks. His hands gripped her waist like he was afraid she’d vanish. Her fingers tangled in his shirt. When she gasped, he bit her bottom lip. When she whimpered, he deepened it.

When they broke apart, he didn’t move.

“Don’t let them touch you like that again,” he murmured against her mouth.

Y/N shivered. “Or what?”

“I’ll make sure they know who you belong to.”

They didn’t sleep that night.

She ended up pressed against his chest, her thighs trembling around his hips, his mouth buried against her throat as he groaned her name into the dark. And when she came, shaking under him, she whispered: “I’m yours.”

And that was all it took to undo him.

The next morning, Si-eun walked into the living room, looking half-wrecked but smug.

Y/N followed ten minutes later, limping slightly.

The boys didn’t miss a thing.

Suho: raises a brow “Sleep well?” Bumseok: snorts into his cereal Ryu: blinking “Why is Y/N walking funny?”

Y/N flushed bright red.

Si-eun didn’t say a word. Just leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and stared down Suho with the most smug, satisfied glare in the world.

Let them guess.

He didn’t need to say a thing. He had what he wanted.

And now they all knew.

[1driedpersimmon]

Some stormblood girls scribbles :) (and Sesamito) no spoilers please… I’m not very far

[drawbauchery]

part 19381203 of someone on the island realizing they might be in love or something

[rulettebitch]

The night you kissed me

Elora Cuana was born with a gift. She was, what someone would call, a mutant. No one had really noticed her gift, even if it was hard to keep a secret. People would say she had been blessed with beauty, and nothing more. From every side, every angle, she was ravishing to no avail. Her mutancy had been easy to deal with, not even she had noticed the oddness of her angelic features. There was no death count to her power, because she seemed to have no power. Until recently, only one man had neglected her advances. Charles Xavier could not reach her mind, and she could not reach his pants, or can she? (This is a One-shot. The OC is quite plane, you could self-insert if that's what you like) TW! tease, m!masturbation, f!masturbation, f!oral sex, making out, unprotected sex.

It was a rainy night—the kind that makes you want to stay in, cradling a cup of hot chocolate, with no desire to even glance at what might be happening outside. But Elora wasn’t one for staying in. Instead, she found herself at a bar, a Martini resting between her slender fingers. She absentmindedly twirled the olive in her drink, her impatience bubbling just beneath the surface as she waited for her evening’s entertainment to arrive.

Elora had a fondness for men, or rather, the pleasures they could offer. It didn’t matter their type or background—if they were handsome, they were hers for the night. But only for the night. She had little patience for relationships, even the purely physical ones. The romance, the waiting, the games—it all bored her to tears. The only part she truly enjoyed was the seduction: the sly comments, the playful banter, the electric tension that crackled between two people.

Her almond-shaped eyes scanned the room as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her golden, tousled locks, adorned with delicate twists, framed her face in a way that added an air of mystery to her already striking features. She kept herself partially hidden, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. For now, she waited, her gaze sharp and calculating, until the right target—her chosen victim—walked through the door.

Suddenly, the door of the bar swung open, and in walked a young man, drenched from the rain. His hair clung to his forehead in damp curls, and water dripped from his shoulders as he made his way to the bar. Without a word, the bartender slid a beer his way—clearly, he was a regular. Elora couldn’t believe she had never noticed him before. He was perfection, executed with effortless grace, and she was instantly intrigued. Her next victim had arrived.

With a subtle motion, she reached up and removed the clip holding her hair in place, letting it cascade down her shoulders in a golden wave. She waited, poised to move, her eyes tracking him as he settled into a secluded booth near the windows. It was the perfect spot for privacy, but it also made her approach more challenging. She would have to make it seem like a coincidence.

Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she made her way toward him, her movements deliberate yet casual. She pretended to stumble slightly as she reached his table, setting her drink down and feigning a search for something in her bag. Her curtain bangs fell forward, partially obscuring her face and adding to the air of mystery she so carefully cultivated. When she was certain his eyes were on her, she lifted her head, her glossy lips parting in feigned surprise as their gazes met. For a moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with tension—or at least, that’s what she told herself.

“Oh,” she said, feigning surprise, “I’m so sorry. I was so caught up in searching for something that I didn’t realize the seat was taken.”

“Don’t worry,” he replied with a gentle smile before turning his gaze back to the cityscape outside the window.

Elora was taken aback. Why wasn’t he captivated by her? It was the first time a man had looked at her for less than a second and then moved on. She sat in silence, unsure of what to do—this had never happened to her before. Clearing her throat, she tried to regain his attention. His fine features seemed tense, as if weighed down by distant thoughts.

“You’re still here?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

He raised his hand to his head, resting his thumb against his cheek and his index and middle fingers on his temple, as though deep in thought. Once again, he seemed oblivious to her charms. She grew impatient, her eyes tracing the sharp line of his jaw, which only emphasized how his attention was elsewhere.

“Yes, I—” she began, but he cut her off.

“Do we know each other?” he asked, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers as if trying to peer into her mind.

Finally, she thought, the classic line every flirtatious man used with a woman like her. But his interest seemed to stem from something else entirely.

“Not really,” she replied with a playful wink, “but we could.”

“Would you like to see a magic trick?” he asked, his hand still resting at his temple. “Eat the olive.”

“Why should I?” she teased, taking a slow sip of her Martini. “I haven’t finished my drink yet.”

He smirked, momentarily amused, though his expression hinted at something deeper. He seemed intrigued by his own inability to read her, as if she were an enigma. Despite her obvious beauty and charm, there was something about her that eluded him.

“Can you think of a number?” he asked, his tone shifting slightly, as if testing a theory.

“That has to be the strangest way a man’s ever asked for my phone number,” she laughed, though her curiosity about him only grew.

What a strange individual, she thought, though her words never reached his mind, no matter how hard he tried. His curly hair, his soft pink-stained lips—he was too beautiful to ignore, and she was determined to have him. He had noticed her interest the moment she sat down, her pupils dilated and a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Yet, for some reason, he couldn’t read her thoughts, and it intrigued him as much as it frustrated him.

“Do you give it away that easily?” he asked, his tone flirtatious but laced with curiosity.

Even if her usual charm wasn’t working as it should, she was still undeniably alluring, and he couldn’t help but notice. Still, he couldn’t shake the question: why couldn’t he read her mind?

“Only to handsome men, hun,” she replied, reaching for her drink and deliberately showcasing her graceful hands.

“They must be hard to find,” he teased, a smirk playing on his lips. “Is that why you came here?”

“Oh no,” Elora answered, her voice dripping with suggestion. “I already have someone in mind. I just haven’t gotten his name yet.”

“Charles Xavier,” he said smoothly. “Please, call me Charles.”

“Nice to meet you, Charles,” Elora purred, her fingers brushing lightly across his hand on the table. “You can call me whatever you desire.”

A faint blush spread across his freckled cheeks. Charles wasn’t used to such directness, and no one had ever made their intentions as clear as she did. Meanwhile, Elora was growing impatient. She loved the thrill of a slow, suspenseful flirtation, but his hesitation was starting to unnerve her. Was he playing hard to get, or was there something else holding him back?

“I must ask for your name, then,” he insisted, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his curiosity.

“Elora,” she answered, her lips curving into a sly smile.

“Well, Elora,” he said, his gaze lingering on hers for a moment longer than necessary. “That’s a beautiful name.”

For a brief moment, he felt ensnared by her seductive stare, and she could see the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. She smirked, confident. He was falling for her, slowly but surely. It was only a matter of time before he was hers.

“So, Charles,” she began, her voice sweet and inviting, “why did you come here? A bar in the middle of nowhere, in this pouring rain?”

“I felt… trapped,” he admitted, his tone honest. “I’ve been working on this thesis, and I couldn’t stay cooped up any longer. My head was about to explode.”

“So, you’re a professor?” she asked, pressing the olive to her lips with deliberate slowness. “That’s hot.”

“Not yet, I—” he started, but his words caught in his throat as he watched her plump lips close around the olive, her gaze never leaving his.

The tension between them was palpable, and Charles swallowed hard, his composure slipping for the first time. She had struck a nerve, and she knew it. The way she said “professor” sent a shiver down his spine, and for a moment, he was utterly captivated. Elora smiled to herself. She had him right where she wanted him.

“May I eat it now, professor?” she teased, her voice dripping with playful mischief.

“You may,” he replied, his tone rougher than before, betraying the tension simmering beneath his calm exterior.

“Really?” she prodded, noticing how his eyes lingered on her mouth. “You’ve been staring at it for a while now.”

“I’m feeling rather jealous, darling,” Charles admitted with a smirk, his gaze still fixed on her lips. “I think I’d like one in my beer too.”

Before he could say another word, Elora slid closer to him, their thighs now brushing as they sat side by side. Her arm grazed his skin, sending a subtle shiver through him. She plucked the olive from her drink, pressed it lightly to her lips in a mock kiss, and then held it out to him, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. She waited, curious to see how he would react. While he wasn’t falling under her spell as easily as most men did, there was something about him—something sharp, clever, and irresistibly flirtatious—that kept her intrigued.

“You’re too generous,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers as he took the olive between his teeth.

His lips glistened as he bit into it, and Elora couldn’t help but bite her own lip in response. She loved putting on a show, especially for men who challenged her. And Charles? He was proving to be the most intriguing challenge yet.

“I’d like to think so,” she replied with a sly smile, her voice low and inviting. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, and for the first time that night, she felt like she might not be the only one playing a game.

"Were you really searching for something when you came?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

"As a matter of fact, I was." She lied effortlessly.

His sharp blue eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Would you care to show me what you were so desperate to find?" His brow arched, skepticism carved into every syllable. "You're a terrible liar, you know."

"Am I?" She felt the warmth rise to her cheeks. "No one's ever cared enough to notice."

He tilted his head, studying her with unnerving precision. "I don’t blame them," he murmured, almost to himself. "Most people don’t like being seen for what they are. I, on the other hand, have a habit of looking too closely."

Something about her unsettled him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. For once, he didn’t have to fight the instinct to reach into someone’s mind—she was already an open book, yet entirely unreadable at the same time. He wondered, fleetingly, if Cerebro could find her. He wondered if he could make her forget.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting against her ear. "Would you like to come back to mine?"

She held his gaze, unflinching. Then, with a slow, knowing smile, she nodded. "I thought you’d never ask."

・・・・・・・・・

As Elora stepped out of the bar, the rain hit her like a sudden shock. It was one thing to admire it from inside, lost in the soft glow of the lights and the warmth of martinis, but feeling the cold droplets on her skin was a completely different experience—a cold shower she couldn’t avoid. She shivered by the side of the road, her silk dress now sticking to her body.

Charles stepped out shortly after, taking care of both of their tabs, as any gentleman would. He noticed her standing there, her dress clinging to her curves in the rain. He couldn’t help but smile, grateful for the chance to spend this moment with her. Without a second thought, he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

As he moved closer, his eyes caught the slit in the side of her dress, drawing his attention to the elegant curve of her hip.

"Have you been waiting long?" he asked, his smile warm and easy, as she stood there, caught in the dance of shadows and the rain’s soft glow. There was something magnetic about her, something undeniable in the way they simply fit together.

She turned to face him, and as his jacket settled over her shoulders, she caught a glimpse of his hair—wet and curly, just like when he’d entered the bar. He flipped it back with his veiny hands, and she couldn’t help but notice how effortless the gesture seemed. His blue eyes, wide and bright, met hers with a quiet amusement. It was the first time a man had looked at her like this—neither mesmerized nor overzealous, but rather respectfully intrigued.

Charles kept his distance, content to let the silence linger, allowing them both time to absorb the moment. The stillness between them felt comfortable, as if they were both weighing something unspoken.

A light, almost playful tension began to grow between them, not the kind of instant attraction she was used to, but something more thoughtful. It reminded her of university flings, the slow, cautious dance of getting to know someone who made you nervous in the best way. This was different—more meaningful, like the promise of something rare, something that could unfold in ways neither of them had expected.

They both felt it: a quiet curiosity, a puzzle they wanted to figure out, to see if their pieces could somehow fit together.

“Is it really far?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“It’s quite the stroll,” he replied, his voice casual. She wouldn’t remember, anyway. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up.”

His hand gently caressed her cheek, his fingers lingering as he admired her features. Charles had a way of studying the girls he spent time with, always savoring the details. He’d erase their memories afterward, keeping everything for himself—this moment would be no different. As soon as they reached Cerebro, he would make sure she forgot everything.

He led her to his car, an old Chevrolet he had kept tucked away in his garage for just such an occasion.

“This is beautiful!” she exclaimed as she slid into the passenger seat.

He smiled, accepting the compliment with a nod.

“How long have you had this for?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing as they headed toward his place.

“It’s been in the family for a while now.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you live with your family?” she probed, trying to gauge whether he was a rich guy or just another one of those losers. But no matter what, he was too charming for her to care too much.

“I don’t really live alone,” he admitted, the words carrying an odd weight. “It feels lonely.” He glanced at her, and for a brief moment, she wondered just how much more there was to this man. He had to be filthy rich. “But don’t worry,” he added, his smile soft but knowing. “No one will notice.”

She looked at him again, unable to pull her gaze away. He had been incredibly attractive back at the bar, but now, as he drove, he seemed even more captivating. His light skin, dusted with freckles, his sharp nose, and those pointy lips—everything about him seemed to draw her in more with every passing moment. She couldn’t help but notice the way his muscular arm gripped the steering wheel, the strength there hidden beneath his lean frame. He had a way of carrying himself that made him look almost delicate, yet she could sense the power beneath.

“Liking what you see?” he asked, a playful glint in his eye as he caught her staring.

“Have you ever had car sex?” Elora blurted out.

He blushed at her boldness, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. Charles was desperate to know what she was thinking. Normally, he could easily glimpse the thoughts of others, especially women, who often projected their desires so vividly. But with Elora, it was different. She was an enigma, and he was left to rely on instinct alone. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his curiosity mingling with a growing sense of intrigue.

“Come on,” she pressed, her voice tinged with playful impatience. “Don’t tell me you haven’t debuted this bad boy yet?”

“I haven’t,” he admitted, his voice low as he swallowed hard.

The admission hung in the air between them, charged with unspoken tension. Elora’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and she leaned in closer, her presence intoxicating. Charles felt a rare vulnerability, one he wasn’t used to, and it only made her more alluring. She was a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and for the first time in a long while, he found himself completely out of his depth—and utterly captivated.

“You know,” She admitted, almost becoming shy. “I’ve always wanted to be fucked in the trunk of a car, leaving the marks of my tits all over the windshield. Or recreating that scene from Titanic, when the carriage gets so hot and moist, Rose leaves a mark on her hand as she is going at it.” She bit her lip, as she laid her hand on his thigh. “What’s your thing, professor?”

He felt her gentle touch slowly caress the top of his thighs, almost playing when she carelessly stumbled near his growing heat. He focused on the road as best as he could. But her words, how she tentatively spoke to him. How she pronounced “professor”, it was so erotic and innocent at the same time. It made him imagine, instead of seeing it, for her fully naked body screaming at his car.

“I’m waiting for an answer,” she insisted, her voice playful yet challenging.

He paused for a moment, something unusual flickering in his expression. "Well, I—" It was the first time in years a woman had made him stumble on his words. "I’ve recently dreamed about enjoying myself somewhere bigger... more mechanically advanced than a car."

His tone was teasing, but there was a subtle hint of sincerity in his words, as if the car ride was only the beginning of something he hadn’t quite anticipated.

“Space sex?” She was entertained.

“All by myself.” He confessed.

“Why wouldn't you want to share those pleasures with someone else?” She asked, growing closer to his neck, as she whispered “I’m actually more turned on with your idea than mine.”

He stepped on the gas as she laid gentle kisses on his neck. She was still caressing his thighs with her fingertips. Leisurely making her way to his earlobe, biting tentatively his fragile skin. The little marks she left in his skin, where even more enjoyable as her playful whispers made him whimper in despair. It was so intense, and each time he tried to connect with her thoughts he became more puzzled. He wanted to bring her to the Cerebro, to see what was her oddity, he had guessed she was a mutant. One that he wasn’t connected with, one he could not access, it was driving him mad. Charles wanted to know what she thought about him, he could not take control of her wishes nor comply with them if she did not let him in. It felt so adamant, for her to whisper so many things she wanted him to do to her without seeing them. 

Like playing with a little flame that grew bigger, his distress augmented as she bit his earlobe, they were already close to his state and he was even closer to her lips than ever. Her caresses were within reach of his crotch, slowly but surely, she unbuttoned his jeans, and with the same playful fingertips she had caressed his thigh, she enjoyed teasing him with the little fabric that separated her skin from hers.

“Fuck it, let’s do it on the X-Jet.” He said, almost desperate, he pushed the brakes as they arrived at the entrance of the mansion. 

He embraced her face with his hands, taking possession of his dominant side with a heavy kiss. She answered quickly as she gently whispered how much she wanted him, parting her lips so he could gain access to her mouth much faster. So eager and hopeless, that's what she enjoyed in her men. His wet curls dropped tiny raindrops that had come stuck in his hair, gradually roaming her face. She whimpered as the cold water drops traveled her hot skin.

“Is X-Jet another name for another car?” She asked teasingly.

He smirked, separating himself from her addicting kisses. Charles stepped out of the car, quickly buttoning his trousers as he reached for her door. The rain hadn’t let up, and Elora, still holding his jacket, offered it back to him. He shook his head with a small smile, taking the jacket from her to drape it over both of them, pulling them closer together as they made their way to the porch. The rain continued to pour, but it only seemed to heighten the closeness between them, each step drawing them closer under the shelter of the jacket.

Still bothered by his pressing bulge, Charles urged her to the door as Elora kissed him again. He searched for the entrance keys as she grabbed the curls of his nape. He eagerly reached for the pockets of his trousers as she pulled him towards her. 

Quietly kissing under the rain, she began to lay gentle pecks in his mouth. Gradually changing the pace of his promiscuous intentions. He stopped searching in his pockets, as he focused only on her, trying to guess what she needed of him. Their lips became familiar in an unhurried and sloppy kiss, his hands traveled the length of her dress, moderately introducing his hand under the little section it had near to her hip. Charles grabbed with one hand her naked bottom, slowly putting her weight over him, with the other hand, he unlocked the door, then grabbed her waist and pushed her in the entrance. 

As she stepped inside, Charles teased her by putting a little distance between them, taking slow steps toward the stairway. Elora was immediately captivated by the grandeur of the entrance—everything was bathed in the warm glow of ivory wood. It screamed luxury in the most understated, almost academic way. She couldn’t help but admire the view, lost in the opulence, while he waited at the top of the stairs, watching her reaction with a smirk.

“Coming or not?” he teased, his voice light, yet expectant.

“Are you kidding?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with astonishment as she ran toward him, a playful grin stretching across her face. “So what’s with the X-Jet? Is that your room? What are you hiding?”

Though her gift didn’t seem to work on him, Charles found himself genuinely delighted by her excitement. Her energy was infectious, her teasing remarks both seductive and charming.

“I won’t spoil you,” he said, tilting his head just slightly to the side, allowing her to notice the chiseled line of his jaw. “Not in that way. Follow me.”

“I knew you were going to be fun when I saw you,” she said, trailing behind him, her smile never fading.

“Oh, really?” he asked, intrigued, as she led him toward an elevator. “What did you think of me when you first saw me?”

“That’s a secret I shall keep, professor.” Her voice dropped to a playful whisper, her tone turning mischievous as she giggled, cheeks flushing with a hint of pink.

“Please don’t,” he insisted softly, his voice a mix of restraint and desire.

The elevator arrived just as they approached, its doors opening with a soft chime. They stepped inside, and the stark white neon lights of the cabin cast everything in sharp contrast. Elora, bathed in the glow, looked even more captivating, her features highlighted in a way that made her impossible to ignore. Charles glanced at her from the corner of his eye, unsure whether to make a move yet, or if it would be better to wait until they reached the jet. The tension between them was thick, but he wasn’t sure if she was ready for anything more.

When the elevator stopped at the right level, he let her step out first, his eyes trailing the contours of her legs as she walked ahead. The sight of her, so effortlessly elegant, made it even harder to control the desire bubbling within him. With a quick flick of his hand, he brushed his long hair back, trying to regain some composure. He followed her, keeping pace by her side.

“I thought you were pretty handsome,” Elora admitted, her tone light, but genuine. “And I asked myself how I could have missed a familiar face all these years.”

“A familiar face?” Charles frowned, confusion flashing across his face.

“Aren’t you a regular?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled.

“It was my first time going to Sam’s,” he corrected her, his voice steady. “Why did you think that?”

“The waiter gave you a beer as you entered,” she said, her brow furrowing in thought. “You were at the door when she poured it.”

He chuckled softly, caught off guard by the way his telepathic abilities had been exposed. But this wasn’t just any stranger—it was the one person he couldn’t read, the one who had clouded his mind with thoughts of all the ways he could take her, a woman too captivating and charismatic to be erased from his memory. He had felt guilty erasing her memories once she left his mansion, but it had been necessary. It was too dangerous for her to know his location, even if she seemed blissfully unaware of who he really was.

“Is something funny?” she teased, her voice light but sharp.

“No, I—” He caught himself, stumbling over his words for the first time in a while. Then he recovered, offering her a smile. “Would you like a drink before we head in?”

They stood there, frozen for a moment, before Charles opened the door leading to the airship vehicles. Elora’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of the white wall that separated two sections, revealing a stunning collection of machines she had never imagined in her life.

“You actually meant a jet,” she said, stepping closer to one of the smaller vehicles, her fingers brushing over the cold iron of its sleek body. “You better serve me an intense whiskey so I can process this.”

He laughed, a rich sound that seemed to fill the space, before sending a telepathic message to one of the maids who was still awake. Elora’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she gazed at the vehicles, clearly in awe of the world she had just stepped into.

“Darling, I was talking about the big one,” he corrected her, his gaze shifting toward the sleek, imposing X-Jet.

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing in a mix of curiosity and something more dangerous. “Who the hell are you?” she asked, her voice low as she unbuttoned the first button of his shirt, her fingers grazing the fabric.

The sudden shift in proximity made his breath catch, destabilizing him. The small dimple that usually appeared when he smiled disappeared, his expression faltering as he struggled to maintain control. Her nearness, her boldness—it was a deadly kind of attraction, one so intense it threatened to shatter his focus. Yet, despite the risk, he couldn’t help but crave it, to lean into the chaos she brought. Charles parted his pink lips, awaiting for a kiss to land on them. But as fast as she had come close to him, she had separated herself from his presence. Now it was her who toyed with him. 

Elora moved toward the X-Jet, gesturing for him to follow her, a silent command that Charles obeyed without hesitation. He opened the entrance, watching her approach with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. A small service table was set near the jet, and he picked up both drinks, offering one to her as they climbed inside.

“I understand why you’d want to do that here,” she said, her tone playful, referencing the dream he had shared earlier.

“Oh, no,” he corrected with a smile, “I’m not talking about just doing it here.” He chuckled as she looked at him, clearly confused. “I meant, here—but there.”

He released the command to open the skydome, instructing the automatic driver to take them to the skies.

“You didn’t,” she gasped, laughing, clearly impressed.

“I did,” he grinned back, enjoying her reaction.

“I’m never forgetting this,” she said, her eyes softening as she gave him a sweet, almost appreciative look.

The air between them buzzed with something more than just the thrill of flight—it was the beginning of something neither of them could easily forget.

They both settled next to each other, securing themselves as the jet lifted into the air. The tension between them was palpable, and both of them giggled, the thrill of the moment hanging in the air as they anticipated what was to come. For a womanizer like Charles, it was almost absurd how flustered he felt from a single woman—this was so unlike him. Yet, the feeling was undeniable, and he couldn’t shake it.

As the jet ascended into the sky, he reached for her hand, his touch warm and steady, a silent acknowledgment of how this moment was shifting everything between them.

・・・・・・・・・

As the jet reached the desired altitude, Charles unbuckled his seatbelt, his gaze steady as he turned toward her, still seated in her place.

“Cat got your tongue, darling?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes, wondering if taking her up to the sky had been a little too much. “I can always take you back to the base if you feel uncomfortable.”

Elora flashed him a knowing smile. “Not in your wildest dreams, Charles,” she replied confidently. “But I would like to ask you a favor.”

Charles gave a nod, his curiosity piqued. He took a slow sip of his scotch, awaiting her request.

“Could you untie me, professor?” she said, her voice laced with a playful edge.

He chuckled softly, his lips curving with amusement. “You really don’t want to call me that,” he warned, his hands already moving to undo the straps of her seatbelt.

“Why not?” she teased, her eyes sparkling. “I can tell you like it.”

He had always enjoyed the power of making people wait, savoring the control it gave him. Even though Elora drove him to the edge of desperation, he still relished the game of teasing her. With deliberate slowness, he loosened the straps of her seatbelt, his hands gliding over the sides of her elbows and then her waist, each movement measured, giving her just enough to make her want more.

Charles offered his hand, an unspoken invitation to stand. As she took it, his proximity was almost too much for her. Her heartbeat quickened, derailed by the heat of his closeness. She could feel the weight of the moment, the unspoken tension building between them, but she wasn’t going to let it end here. She wanted him to show her—show her how badly he desired her, right there on the jet. Leaving inches in between them. As both of them waited for the other to give in, she shut her eyes close, as she deeply felt his breath in her lips. The sweet scent of his drink intertwined with his harsh perfume, it felt nauseating. She felt him smile towards her.

“You are so pretty.” He said.

She opened her eyes, looking at him as the height difference made her speechless. Elora was waiting for him to claim her. And he was too intrigued by her character to give in. They stood still, in the middle of the sky in the biggest jet anyone could’ve seen. A mechanical palace that had been constructed to fit his desires towards peace, and now, a place he had decided to use for his lustful desires towards her. Their eyes were locked, it felt quiet and completely passionate. 

“Where were you in your dream?” She asked.

Without a word, Charles guided her to seats closer to the windows, where the view of the city stretched out before them in all its glory. The night had settled heavily over the city, the darkness swallowing the streets below. But just at the edge of her sight, the colorful glow of illuminated LED lights from the skyscrapers broke through, painting the skyline in vibrant hues. New York City—alive and never sleeping.

As Elora became lost in the mesmerizing view, her gaze lingering on the lights, Charles’s presence beside her felt like a pull she couldn’t escape. Gently, almost tenderly, he brushed her flowy hair away from her nape, his fingers grazing her skin in a soft, deliberate touch. The simple act made her heart flutter, a warm shiver running down her spine, and for a moment, it felt like the city itself had faded into the background, leaving only the two of them. She whimpered at his contact, but his arms traced her waist, keeping her next to him. As he got closer to her jaw, she laid her head into his shoulders, letting herself enjoy his touch. 

“Tell me what you want, darling,” Charles murmured, his voice low and edged with frustration. Despite his usual control, he felt helpless, his powers rendered useless in the face of her allure. Every inch of him longed to know what she desired, to unravel the mystery she held, but his patience was beginning to wear thin. She had a way of getting under his skin, and right now, that was a feeling he couldn’t shake.

She bit her lip, and raised her arms to caress his face. He had started to tease her when she had given her back to him, leaving her wondering how he looked kissing her neck so gently.

“I want you, what do you need Charles?” She teased.

“I need you to sit at the control desk,” he said, his voice calm but commanding, as he gestured toward the desk in front of her. The air between them thickened with unspoken desire, his words laced with authority. He wanted to see how she’d respond, to see if she’d let him take the lead—or if she would surprise him once again.

Elora turned around to see his deep blue eyes, he stared at her with hunger. She obediently sat at the control desk, being careful to not touch any of the buttons. He got close to her, as she tied her hands between his messy strands of hair. Pushing him towards her, Charles touched her naked elbows as he flicked off the strips of her dress. 

“Let me guess,” He said as his hands held her dress, about to rip it away from her, “Black lingerie?”

She laughed. 

“Guessing is not your forte.”

He bit his lip, half-amused, half-frustrated. She certainly knew how to get under a man’s skin. Charles cursed himself again for his inability to read her thoughts. It was maddening, not knowing what she was thinking, what she truly wanted. He considered leaving her to stew in her own game, to tease her just as much as she was teasing him. But something about her—her confidence, her unpredictability—kept him rooted in place.

“You’re quite the enigma, aren’t you?” he said, his voice low and tinged with both admiration and irritation. “Most people aren’t so... elusive.”

Elora raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on her lips. “And most men aren’t so easily flustered,” she shot back, her tone dripping with playful mockery. “But here we are.”

Charles chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. She had him cornered, and she knew it. For once, he was the one being toyed with, and though it irked him, he couldn’t deny the thrill of it. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms as he studied her, his sharp mind racing to keep up with her game.

“Alright, Elora,” he said, his voice steady but with a hint of challenge. “Let’s see how long you can keep this up.”

She had grabbed his hand and drove it to her breast, biting her lip as he squeezed it carefully. “Does it feel like I’m wearing anything, professor?” 

He pressured her bust, enjoying the roundness of it, casually inciting her nipple with gentle caresses. He pressed his lips into hers, starved by the heat of her tong dancing with his. He started to deliberately remove her dress, by simply sliding it off from her body. The silk that had covered her figure had been very thin pressed to hide just enough to not drive him insane, but her naked skin not only was as perfect as he could’ve imagined, but was incredibly soft to his touch. Charles looked at her, slowly and deeply taking it all in. Silently hypnotized by the velvety feel of her skin, he started to kiss her clavicle, with gentle nibbles he reached her left breast. 

As she moaned, he took his mouth away from her hard nipple, exchanging his sucking by a gentle motion of circles around it. Charles went back to her mouth, in a desperate attempt for her to let him in her head. She clapped back, now having the opportunity to continue unbuttoning his shirt. He took it off as soon as she had finished her deed, as she now enjoyed lovingly touching his chest and even slightly squeezing his back. However it was still an unfair situation. She was completely undressed, and he was still wearing his pants.

“Let me guess, “ She gently reached the button of his pants, unbuttoning it too as she rediscovered his length covered by his boxers without looking at it, “white knickers.”

“That is really unfair,” he smiled, “you’ve seen them in the car.”

“You’re clearly jealous because I’m better than you at guessing.” She laughed back, caressing the tip of his member.

“You are so–,” He was cut off, as her hand stoked the lowest part of his shaft, sending pleasure waves all over his body. 

“Cat got your tongue, professor?” She snapped back at him. “I can stop if it’s too much to stand.”

Had she really just echoed the same words he had spoken to her moments ago? Charles couldn’t help but smile, a mix of admiration and disbelief. She was truly something else. He wasn’t angry with her—no, it was more of a frustration with himself. He couldn’t quite figure out how to make her feel what he was feeling at that moment. The longing, the pull—he could sense it in the way she moved, the way she looked at him—but he didn’t know how to make it real, to make her see the same depth of desire he was drowning in.

He felt almost powerless at her touch, but it was so sensual and erotically charged he had no time to express something else but his lascivious intentions. Taking her mouth in his, carelessly grinning and smiling as he enjoyed the sloppines of her mouth. 

“Now, darling,” Charles whispered, his voice low and purposeful, “I need you to be very careful.” His eyes locked onto hers, steady and intense. “Right behind you, there’s a red button. It depressurizes the jet and would send us flying over New York.” His gaze darkened slightly, as if to underline the gravity of his words. “Don’t push it.”

The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with a mix of power, danger, and a hint of something more. It was a test, an invitation, and a warning all in one.

Then, he buried himself between her legs, making her moan at the sudden pressure and surprise. With one of his hands he had parted both labias to access her cunt better, circling her clitoris with his tongue at the same time that he flickered her nipple. Elora was completely blinded by lust, as if a sex god had retired her from all human lust and had exchanged it by the most insatiable feeling of passionate want. He started sucking on her, making her genitalia become warm and exited by his presence, her fluids slowly released themselves. He savored the sweet nectar her cunt had released just for him. 

Carefully, he inserted his wet tongue inside of her. She tried her best not to move too much, staying still at his command. Feeling herself dripping from the moistness of his mouth, as he drew gentle paths inside of her. He lowered the hand that had been preoccupied with her nipple down to her clit, making her roll her hips in need for more. Her core felt even more heated and crowded, his tongue was working miracles as he teased her bud. She grinded over his mouth, almost losing control of her body. She grabbed his hair, pushing his nose against her sex, amplifying the intensity of his movements.

“What did you say about my tongue earlier?” He stopped suddenly to tease her.

“Charles, please continue.” She begged knowing she was close.

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

Charles became rough and harsh, as her moans pronounced his name, each time she was more loud. He inserted one of his fingers, feeling her clench all around him. It felt tight even if she was ready to take him. He could not even begin to wonder how her core would feel around his dick. Increasingly, moving one, two, even three fingers inside of her, faster and deeper. As she asked for more each time, Elora claimed she was closer and closer.

Her blushed cheeks had now covered her entire face with a red tint, her lips had become bloody from biting her lips due to the intensity, her face was distorted by the lust in the most provocative expression he had ever seen. Her sight was directed at his blue eyes. His deep cold eyes were the only thing she was able to see from that  position, as his nose caressed the contour of her vagina. She was holding all of her weight on the desk, enjoying herself in his mouth. Everything became slow and intense, her cunt palpitated all over his hand, and soaked his face in fluids as she released her orgasm in his mouth. 

Her heavy breathing became moderate, when Charles separated himself from her sex. Looking at her amazed by her allure. The sweat she had released, made her shine as the New York City skyline decorated the scene. He smiled pleasured by her reaction and her legs trembled from the leftover thrill she had received.

“Do you like the view?” She giggled, looking back at him.

“You look splendid, darling, you know that?” He licked his lips, tasting what had lasted from her release.

“I like to be reminded of it.” She said lightheartedly, “Now, professor, I’ve been a very lucky girl.”

“You have.”

“I know that wasn’t it,” She smirked, “when I asked you to share that dream I actually meant it, please take a seat.”

As Charles moved closer to the commander's chair, Elora tried to rise from the desk, but as she shifted her weight onto her still-trembling leg, she lost her balance and fell into his arms. His reflexes were quick, and he caught her just in time, pulling her close to him.

“Are you sure you want to continue?” he asked, his voice carrying a rare note of concern. His expression softened, a hint of worry in his eyes. “Was I too rough?”

Elora, slightly flustered, shook her head. “No, it’s fine, I—” Her words faltered, the vulnerability in her voice surprising him. It was the first time he’d heard her stumble, and it caught him off guard. “I haven’t felt anything so intense in a long time. I want to continue.”

Charles felt an unexpected warmth creep up his neck, his cheeks flushing a deep red, a feeling almost foreign to him. For a moment, he was like a teenager, butterflies swirling in his stomach. “Oh, well,” he chuckled softly, “let’s take a break then. We have the whole night to ourselves, darling.”

Elora nodded, still a little unsteady but determined. Charles smiled softly and handed her the shirt she had taken off earlier, offering it to her as a way to cover herself. She took it gratefully, slipping it on as he moved to sit at the commander's post.

He glanced back at her, his eyes filled with quiet intention. “Why don’t you sit here?” he suggested, his voice smooth and low, gesturing toward his lap. The invitation was clear—part of him curious to see how far she would push this moment, part of him eager to feel her closer, to explore the tension that had been building between them.

Elora’s eyes met his, a spark of something mischievous in them. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, but the connection between them was undeniable. With a knowing smile, she moved closer, letting herself fall into the space he had offered, snuggling herself in his chest covered by his shirt. They grew comfortable into each other's bodies, almost automatically connecting. He kissed her forehead without thinking too much, as her head rested on his shoulders. Both of them took gentle slips of the leftover scotch Charles had not yet finished, enjoying the landscape of the city in company.

I have sligthly edited this fic! It was posted a year ago on AO3!! Still mine!

[ariannabananasstuff]

MET A FELLOW AO3-ER IN THE WIND (aka my french class) FOR THE FIRST TIME TODAY. i’ve never had anyone know what it is or got the hints i dropped

(here’s how it played out if anyone was wondering, even if you weren’t your getting it)

me: (showing off the lupus, canis major and leo constellations i have on my computer case)

her: (talking about galaxys bc that’s her thing and asks about the other stuff on my case)

me: oh yeah this one (hang painting here pink sticky note) is a reference you probably won’t get, i don’t think you would have read it if you don’t like marauders

her: oh yeah is it from a book or-

me: *hesitates* -yeah it’s a book-

her: -or a fanfic?

awkward silence for a second

me: YEAH ITS A FIC

her: OMG WATTPAD OR AO3 USER?

me: AO3 BUT I DID HAVE A WATTPAD PHASE

her: OMG ME TOOOOO AO3 IS SO MUCH BETTER

(we then talk about if she’s writing anything and try’s to see if my other friend who was distracted by the work we had finished [she had no clue what we were talking about and we outed ourselves for reading fanfiction, she thought it was porn for a bit until we convinced her we didn’t read that])