#discipline for better or for worse

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

Sometimes art can be separated from the creator sometimes it can't no there is no coherent division it depends on the vibes alone

[the-nysh]

Turns out that in the last episode of season 2, just in the first minute while Bang is fighting Garou, after kicking in the chind with his knee, he grabs his ear to spin him in the air...

I just noticed that re-watching the fight, but Bang seriously was there to discipline his reckless student since the beginning.

It was the same 'discipline' choreography in the manga:

But Bang came in so fierce (without effectively using his words) that unfortunately Garou misinterpreted it as Bang out to kill him. :')) And endured through it with all he had for his own survival.

[goldensunset]

bearer of the curse <—- has a new unopened game that requires both ample free time and the right mental state at once to begin playing; doesn’t know when that will be

[coffeebooh]

was watching the jl cartoon episode in which the jl meets the justice lords, which is basically the jl that turned morally corrupted due to wally’s death and now i have so many ideas for what would have happened in a worst-case scenario of the team wanting revenge and going on a reach rampage kill, basically becoming the justice lords too

[clawsup]

tbh if tumblr does replace twitter I’m fascinated to see how that would effect the blaseball fan base?

[lockandkeyhyena]

That’s very cool for you and I’m glad your parents aren’t as harsh but a lot of people have stricter parents about that so. That’s Why

Thats. so weird. no offense lol. even if my parents didnt like me swearing i wouldnt be scared or anything to do it. they’d probably just explain why its wrong in certain situations and i’d be like ooooh that makes sense.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Puppy Love.

Pairing: Yandere!Yuuji x Reader x Yandere!Yuuta

Word Count: 2.6k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Puppy!Yuuta, Puppy!Yuuji, Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Somnophilia, Biting, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, and Obsessive Behavior.

You heard Yuuji, first.

 He’d always been the louder of the pair, not that it was a very steep competition. You hadn’t had him for very long, but—well, it was less that he came out of his shell quickly and more that he’d never had a shell at all. It only taken a day or so for him to get used to the idea of living with you and Yuuta full-time, a week for him to start acting like he’d always been a part of your little family, and another month before he started pawing at your bedroom door at night and whining when you reminded him that you preferred to sleep alone (meaning: without multiple two-hundred pound hybrids draped across you). He was energetic, overly friendly, even if you wouldn’t go so far as to call him disobedient or difficult. You figured having a more, for lack of better phrasing, dog-like hybrid in the house would be good for Yuuta, bring out his more instinctive side. In reality, the added stress of an overly hyper roommate had only worked to make him just a little more anxious than he already was, but you still thought it was good for him. If nothing else, Yuuji gave Yuuta something to focus on that wasn’t you, and Yuuta could use more distractions.

But Yuuji, though—He was what you should’ve been focusing on, at the moment. Through the haze of exhaustion, you could hear the door creaking open, the muffled sound of padded feet on carpeting and the tiny, almost inaudible vocalizations Yuuji never seemed to realize anyone else could hear. Soon enough, you felt the foot of the mattress dip as he clambered onto your bed. Any other night, you would’ve forced yourself to sit up and tell him to leave, would’ve called on the dozens of books and hundreds of blogposts you’d read about hybrid obedience training and found the strength to ‘reinforce boundaries despite personal feelings’, but you were tired beyond the point of discipline, and Yuuji didn’t mean any harm. One night of letting him curl up next to you wouldn’t hurt, even if you did make a mental note to show Yuuta some extra affection in the morning – just to keep the scales balanced. For all their many differences, they were both prone to crying favoritism.

You never stirred, but you settled deeper into place, curling into yourself as Yuuji remained at your feet. You might’ve fallen asleep entirely, if Yuuji hadn’t spoken.

His voice was quiet, low, audibly trepidatious. It reminded you of Yuuta’s nervous, stuttering inclination, although not quite as unsteady. “Are you sure it’s alright to…?”

“I am.” You weren’t sure who you expected to answer, but the sound of Yuuta’s voice almost startled you awake. It was normal for Yuuji to bend the rules. Yuuta was supposed to know better. “She’s asleep, right? Just don’t wake her up.”

Yuuji didn’t respond, but you felt the sheets draped over your shift, a warm hand curl around your calf. For as little reassurance as Yuuta had provided, it seemed to be enough for Yuuji.

It was half curiosity and half fatigue that kept you quiet as Yuuji moved around you. Whatever they might’ve been up to, nothing could’ve seemed worse than having to wake up and sacrifice much-needed sleep for the sake of scolding your (usually angelic) pets. At worst, you’d wait until you could catch them in the act or, better yet, grit your teeth and bare it until they left. Anything not to have to deal with this for another eight hours.

You rolled onto your side, twisting your leg out of Yuuji’s hand and letting out a soft groan as you curled into yourself. It wasn’t a subtle position, let alone an inviting one, but Yuuji only whimpered, only edged closer to you. This time, when he touched you, it was to take up your shoulder – his hold gentle and breathing heavy as he nudged you onto your back. Whatever he was doing, he seemed determined to see it through. It might’ve been more admirable, if you hadn’t been so confused.

You felt your sheets pull away from you next, then another hand on your ankle, Yuuji’s rough claws pressing lightly into your skin as his loose grip flexed. You felt him draw your legs apart, and with the corner of your mouth already quirking downward, you started to open your eyes, to sit up and—

Suddenly, you felt something wet and warm press into your cunt, and you stopped moving entirely.

Whatever lingering exhaustion you might’ve felt was swiftly replaced with cold, pointed terror. This time, you forced yourself to hold still, it wasn’t out of confusion or curiosity, but an abrupt and paralyzing fear.

It wasn’t a feeling Yuuji seemed to share. His tongue was already moving across the length of your slit, his drool already soaking into the silk of your panties. He was making those noises, again; deep and throaty, closer to the sounds a prowling animal would make than anything remotely similar to human speech. Both of his hands found their way to your ass, claws biting into the plush flesh as he buried his face in your pussy. He was just as rough with his mouth – his pointed canines ghosting over the inside of your thighs and catching on the material of your panties, his broad togue laving over your covered entrance as if he could taste you through the fabric. It was only when he bowed his head, when the bridge of his flat nose ground against your clit that you started to wonder if he actually could, but forced yourself not to linger on the idea for very long. Thinking about what he was doing, assigning a motive to his actions – that would only make this worse. Thinking at all would only make this worse.

You bit down on the side of your tongue with as much force as you could afford to use, willing yourself to hold still, to not react – a wounded animal, playing dead as to not attract the attention of a predator. You felt Yuuji’s hands shift, calloused fingertips pressing into your thighs, then—

“Stop.”

Yuuta. Wonderful, miraculous, well-behaved Yuuta. You would’ve sighed, if you weren’t holding yourself so stiff. You could hear him moving closer, too – his footsteps feather-light compared to Yuuji’s. You braced yourself to break up a fight (there’d been a few when Yuuji first came home with you, when you first realized that Yuuta had never learned to share), but rather than barking, growling, any of the sounds that came with two animals trying to tear each other apart, there was only rustling fabric, another shift in gravity as Yuuta positioned himself by your side. “Y-you’re doing it wrong,” he stammered, and something deep inside of you seemed to curl up and die. “You have to take her clothes off first. Otherwise, she won’t feel anything.”

It was almost strange, hearing him take charge. In any other context, you might’ve been proud.

Yuuji whined, but obliged. His nails scraped against your hips as he balled his fist around the fabric and tore, making no effort to spare the delicate fabric. The remaining scraps were discarded with just as little care, and before you could fully wrap your mind around what was happening, he was back to lapping at your cunt. With the only barrier between you gone, it felt less like he was trying to eat you out and more like he was trying to eat you alive – his tongue too thick and too long, his hands too big and too prone to groping at whatever was underneath him, the boundless energy you were so used to finding either infinitely adorable or impossibly exasperating sudden not quite as harmless than you’d always considered it to be.

The next time he found your clit, you couldn’t stifle your reactions – little, half-choked whimpers and moans escaping despite your pursed lips. Your hips twitched, and for the first time, you felt Yuuji draw back willingly. He was such a sweet dog. Even with your eyes clenched shut, you could picture him tilting his head to the side, his ears flopping in the same direction and his big, dark eyes going full puppy-dog. Usually, you’d melt at the sight, give him whatever he was asking for and comfort him the best you could, but you didn’t have much comfort to spare, and Yuuta was already answering on your behalf.

“That means she likes it,” he explained, his voice a little quieter, a little more airy than it’d been before. “Keep going, she’ll make more.”

There was a short lapse, passed in silence. For a second, you let yourself believe he’d come to his senses, that he might stop, but it was only for a second. His response was enough to dash any remaining hope you might’ve had. “…will she get louder?”

“Mhm.” And then, with the slightest note of pride, “She does for me, at least.”

And just like that, Yuuji’s head dipped, his mouth latching onto your pussy with a renewed concentration. You willed yourself not to move, not to think, not to do anything that would mean having to open your eyes and acknowledge what was happening, but it was impossible not to feel the heat of his mouth against your cunt, not to let the sounds of saliva and arousal against tongues and skin seep into the back of your mind and tint the pleasure slowly starting to pool at the pit of your stomach with a vicious, sickeningly sweet, nectar-like quality. It wasn’t long before your own pitiful noises were just as difficult to suppress, before your hips were jutting upward involuntarily to meet Yuuji’s mouth, before you could feel a mix of drool and slick and every other ungodly thing pooling on your sheets beneath you. Yuuta shifted beside you, edging close enough for his thigh to press against your arm. “You’re—You’re making a mess, she’ll be mad if—”

His voice cut out abruptly, drowned out by a sudden, bubbling moan from Yuuji. Yuuta tried to catch his attention again to the same result until, finally, there was a low growl. Yuuji yelped has his face was shoved further into the space between your thighs – Yuuta pushing down on the back of his head, as little as you wanted to picture your sweet Yuuta doing something like that – but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his lapping only seemed to get faster, more reckless, more wild. You didn’t want to, no part of you wanted to cum because of your pet’s mouth, but you could feel the pressure mounting, the heat building, the walls of your pussy convulsing around his tongue as you reached your climax.

There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from crying out as you came, any hope you might’ve had of making it through this without letting either Yuuji or Yuuta know how much of it you’d been conscious for immediately abandoned. You tried to make good use of your adrenaline, to shove Yuuji away and run, but he’d always been strong, even for a hybrid, and he didn’t even have to pull away to pin your hips to the mattress and nurse you through your orgasm, his tongue now fucking into you unabashedly. He only stopped when the last of your aftershocks had died out, when it was all you could do to lie limp and mutter all the little ‘no’, ‘stop’, ‘please’s that you’d pictured yourself screaming only seconds ago. Even then, the separation wasn’t made by choice – no, it was Yuuta who finally, finally dragged him off of you. Even through the darkness of your bedroom, you could see his fingers knotted in Yuuji’s untamable hair, his knuckles white and his grip steadfast. By the time he let go, Yuuji’s back was straight and he’d gone surprisingly quiet – his dark eyes glassy and fixed on yours. By the time you could force yourself to look to Yuuta, he wasn’t much better. He was focused on you, too, but he didn’t look quite as dazed, quite as mindless. His lips were parted, but his eyes were narrowed, and he was wearing the expression he’d worn when you first brought Yuuji home, all displaced resentment and palpable betrayal. If you hadn’t known him so well, you might’ve called it anger.

Yuuji broke the silence. He whined sharply, slumping forward and kneading down where his hands were still planted on your hips. You opened your mouth, ready to tell him to get down, to get out, but Yuuta cut in before you had the chance to spit anything out. “Turn her over. It’ll be easier if she’s on her stomach.”

Yuuji didn’t hesitate. You felt his hands on your midriff, and then, you were on your chest, Yuuji’s form hunched over you as he ground something stiff and hot and leaking against your ass. You tried to push yourself up, to get away, but you were barely able to get your knees underneath you before Yuuji’s arms were around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck and his pointed teeth bared against the side of your throat. He didn’t growl, didn’t bite, but you went still regardless. You didn’t think Yuuji would hurt you, but you never would've thought he would do this, either.

Whatever aggression he might’ve felt faded quickly – as soon as he started rutting against your ass. You could feel him panting against your throat, his breath humid and stifling, and his chest pressing into your back. He was too close. He was too much. When he spoke, it was almost deafening, even if you knew it couldn’t be much more than a mumble. “Hurts so bad,” he muttered, as his cock ground uselessly against your ass, your thighs. “Been hurtin’ so bad since you took me home. I was so happy when Yuuta told me you could help, and—and, that you wouldn’t mind, and—”

His voice cut out abruptly as the blunt head of his cock caught on your entrance and, with a cracked whine, thrust into you. There was no time to adjust, to block out – just a sudden heat inside of you and the immediate, overwhelming fullness of his cock battering the walls of your pussy. “Off,” you half cried, half screamed – your voice a jagged, shaking mess. “Get down, stop, get—”

But Yuuji wasn’t listening. His tongue lapped clumsily at your neck as he fucked into in slow, languid thrusts – his hips slamming into your ass with enough force to bruise. You went limp, sobbing openly into your sheets, but Yuuji was strong enough to hold you up on his own, to not have to care what state you were in underneath him. So caught up in your own misery, you didn’t notice Yuuta moving until he was in front of you, until his hand had worked its way underneath your chin and tilted your head back far enough for your tear-clouded gaze to find his. His expression was that same mix of resentment and pity and bitter, bitter anger. Still, when your eyes met his, the corner of his lips quirked up, some of the harsher lines around his eyes fading into nothing.

“I wouldn’t be this rough with you.” His tone was flat, softened. He ran his thumb over your cheek, leaning down just far enough for his lips to brush against the top of your head. “I would be a good mate. You don’t need anyone else.”

Again, he leaned in, slotting his lips against yours with a feather-light sort of gentleness. At the same time, you heard Yuuji moan, felt his teeth sink into your shoulder, and started to wish you couldn’t feel anything at all.

[callsign-datura]

quit talking.

frustrated simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader warnings: smut, obviously. mentions of putting a muzzle on you, not dealing with feelings, unprotected sex, bro is def a tits man (he sucks on em), oral sex (f recieving), light choking, creampieee a/n: 1k? how the hell?? thank you! :)

If there's one thing you know how to do, it's piss Ghost off. It's not really fun to you, it's more of a competitive thing. He's been in this line of work for much longer than you have, but you've been in it for long enough that you should be treated like a valuable ally than an untrained soldier, or a rookie. But for Ghost, that nickname has stuck. "C'mon, rookie, get your head straight."

"Eyes up here, rookie."

"Are you listenin', rookie?"

Your blood boils every time the word slips from his mouth. Every time he does it, you keep yourself from snapping at him. You put a smile on and follow his directions.

But sometimes it isn't so easy.

He orders you around, and tells you what to do; like a lieutenant should. Yet for some reason, you feel your chest tighten when he gives you an order. You know damn well it's a personal issue. Probably some feelings you haven't dealt with yet that you aren't ready to deal with. But you butt heads. You can tell that your defiance pisses him off and the flicker in his eyes makes something in your heart surge; something you tell yourself is satisfaction. Recently, it's been worse... maybe it was the mission last month where you were stuck in a closet together and he couldn't keep his hands to himself, or the fact he acted like it didn't even happen after. Probably both.

---------------------- "Rookie."

That damn nickname again. You snap quickly, against your better judgment; but he can't blame you. It's been a hard day of biting your tongue. "How long have I been on this team, sir?" "Not long enough to be givin' me so much attitude." He snaps back just as quickly, and usually it'd be enough to extinguish that fire, but today, it's not.

"It's been two years." "Two years of you talking' like you've known us for ten. Sorry to burst your bubble," he barks, turning his body to you as you recognize that look in his eye that you shouldn't be messing with him today. "You haven't. I'll keep callin' you 'rookie' until you get that in your head." His arms hang at his sides, his fists idly clenching and releasing as he steps towards you. "You got a problem with that?" Your eyebrows knit together and you tilted your head back as he gets close, his upper body curling to lean over yours and stare you down. Cold, brown eyes staring into yours; something that would normally give you chills. But not today. "Yes, actually, I do. I'm not a rookie anymore, I've been working with you long enough to the point I should have earned the respect I deserve." The words are slipping out. You realize how stupid it sounds and how you should have just been quiet and stopped fighting, but it feels good to get it off your chest. So you keep talking. "I'm a valuable asset to the team. I'm a good medic, a good ground unit, I'm damn good with a knife and I have good survival skills. I think those are grounds for respect from my lieutenant. Everyone else treats me well, but you." He rolls his eyes so strongly that you think it probably hurts. "You wanna know why they treat you well, rookie?" He retorts, his voice low and husky and raspy. His face is inches from yours and your senses are flooded with him; it's almost enough to get you to forget about why you were fighting in the first place. "It's 'cause everyone else knows that bein' nice to you and lettin' you act like a proper twat is better than tryin' to discipline you. You act like a child and they let you because you're too damn stubborn to get through to." The words piss you off again, and you open your mouth to respond, yet nothing comes out. "Don't." He warns. "This is ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? I just want to be respected." "Nobody gives you shit anymore, rookie, but me. It sounds like you're mad that I'm the only person who gives you shit and doesn't let you get off easy."

"Because it's bullshit-" "I only give you shit when you're actin' like this." The glimmer in his eyes changes, and it becomes something you can't entirely put your finger on. "I only give you shit when you're yowlin' about 'not being respected' when you know damn well you are, you're just angry that I'm mean to you." "'Cause you are!"

"I am because I know that's the only way you listen." He says, his voice returning to something stable. "It's like you hate me."

Oh. His eyes flare again, this time with recognition. "That's what this is about? You think I hate you?"

"Well, sometimes..." Your voice lowers and you avoid eye contact with him, trying to focus on anything but the monster of a man in your proximity. "Sometimes it feels like it."

"Really? And that's why you're constantly puttin' up such a fight with me? 'Cause you think I hate you?" His voice turns... amused. Jesus Christ, he's enjoying this. "Yes, and--" You try to retort, but you can't think of anything. Your mind blanks. "And..." Embarrassment burns hot on your cheeks and you shut your eyes. He chuckles quietly. "That's fucked, sweetheart. You're not gonna believe me, even if I talk till I'm blue,"

"As if I could see." You snap, looking away. "...N' even if I talk, you'll interrupt me." He chuckles again. His voice tenses a little as if he's irritated. He grabs your hand and starts leading you somewhere and you start talking again. "I don't know where you get off on being rude like that." He laughs, in disbelief. "I could ask you the same thing." "You haven't said anything to me about that mission," you begin. Your voice is shaky. These are untrod waters, but you want an answer. "Not a damn thing. Not a text, hell, you barely look me in the eyes." "Mm." He responds, his voice higher-pitched, once again with recognition. "So it's that, too." He glances back at you, and you barely even realize where he's leading you until he pushes open the door to his quarters and pushes you inside, stepping in too, and shutting the door behind him. "You're mad about that? That we haven't talked about that?" You open your mouth, but the surprise doesn't let you say anything. So you nod, looking around the room. It's bland. Very... Ghost. "I haven't said anythin' to you about it 'cause even thinkin' about it makes it difficult for me to see you in a professional light." He pauses. "It shouldn't have happened. If anyone finds out, it'd be me taking advantage of you,"

"That wasn't what happened, though. I was asking you--" "Quit." He snaps, his hand coming up to cup your chin and hold your jaw, urging you to stay quiet. "Quit interruptin' me, fuck. You talk a lot, you know that?" His other hand goes to the zipper of your jacket, pulling at it and unzipping it. Your eyes flicker down to watch his hand, and you stay quiet.

He chuckles again and shakes his head, his eyes wide with disbelief and amusement... some mix of the two. "Now you're quiet. When you're gettin' what you want. Dunno what I expected." He lets go of your jaw and pulls your jacket off, tossing it to the side and turning both of you, backing you up against the door.

"I don't hate you... Quite the opposite." He murmurs, his voice softening. You watch as his thumb hooks into the bottom of his mask, pulling it over his nose as he leans in and puts his other hand on your waist. He goes for your neck, and you tilt your head instinctively. More than happy to obey. "It's jus' the fact that this is entirely unethical. No matter how we put it... it's unethical." He kisses the flesh of your neck, lips dancing along the softness there, testing for any sweet spots. He nips when he feels you tremble. "...Now that isn't to say I didn't enjoy it... 'cause I did. I dream about it, pet," his voice shakes and his grip on you tightens. "Fuckin' dream about it."

The vulnerability at this moment makes your body heat up. Warmth is building in your lower stomach, and a soft noise leaves your lips as you tilt your head back against the door. Your back arches as his breath ghosts your neck.

"Dream about you... n' this body, n' your voice, and your whimpers. I look at you, and I remember." He starts kissing your neck again. They're rough, and his breath is hot. You tremble again as his lips travel down, stopping at your collar as he reaches and slips the strap of your undershirt off your shoulder, and kisses the span of flesh that's been uncovered. Tongue darting out, following the contour of your collarbone, teasingly; leaving tingles in its wake that send heat straight to your cunt. "Makes it so goddamn hard to treat you like you're my teammate and not a person who haunts my dreams."

Another noise leaves your lips, and his hands slide up your sides, bringing the fabric of your undershirt with it. You lift your arms to let him, and you lock eyes for a moment. His are sparkling with lust, and he chuckles before his hands travel up your back to unclasp your bra. He pulls it from your body and drops it to the side, and his lips are on your flesh again. He nips at certain spots, nibbling gently and sucking deep marks into the flesh. His kisses go from your collarbone to your breast, and his lips close around your nipple. Your body tenses and goosebumps prickle over the flesh of your chest, and you tilt your head back again, legs pressing together as his hands rub up and down your sides soothingly. His tongue laves over it, sending tingles of pleasure through you as your eyes flutter shut and he grunts against you. His teeth nip at it gently before he releases it, switching sides. His hands slip down your sides and move to your pants, undoing the button of your jeans and tugging them and your panties down around your legs, detaching from your nipple to do so.

His gaze is immediately dragged to your cunt, and he hums low in his throat before he looks up at you. "C'mon, dove. Give me a taste, mm?" He asks, teasingly; but meaning the question entirely. Your expression twists in embarrassment, but your desire for him overrides any hesitation. And you nod. One of his hands cups the underside of your leg, lifting it up and to the side as he litters kisses along the inside of it. Having him so close to you makes your entire body shudder and a moan leaves your lips, your hand coming down to cup his head as you watch him. It's a lewd sight, but the view makes you tingle. He bites down lightly and a whine leaves your lips as you lightly swat his head. He chuckles in response and looks up at you, pulling away from your thigh to litter kisses over your cunt. You're wet enough to the point he can fucking see it; and your face flushes a bit more in embarrassment and you tilt your head back. You shudder, tilting your hips forward and chasing a bit more friction... and he delivers. His tongue darts out, dragging up between your labia to catch your clit. Your body shudders and you give a sharp whine. The feeling is electric, and you already feel something building in your stomach, yet you try to suppress it in turn for just feeling the sensation. His other hand comes up and his thumb pulls at the flesh, lightly spreading you out for his convenience, his lips closing around your clit as he grunts and the vibration of it turns into straight heat and makes you twitch. He sucks gently and you mewl, your hips shifting away from the unfamiliar sensation, forcing him to detach before he pulls you back in and clicks his tongue.

"Come on now, pet. You wanted this, didn't you? Stay still." You whine in affirmation, looking down once again and gasping as he buries his face into you once more. He dips his tongue into you, and his eyes roll briefly as he grunts at the taste of you; something that he'd get addicted to easily. Hell, he's already addicted to you; why not? He pushes his tongue into you for a moment, groaning again. His grip on the underside of your thigh tightens and he brings it upward a bit more, resting it over his shoulder as his hand slips up your tummy, giving the pudge there a little squeeze before he switches his attention to your clit, lapping his tongue over it slowly and gently. Each swipe sends heat into you, your walls clamping around on nothing, moans leaving your lips as he keeps his head buried into you. The sensations are mounting and he laps his tongue a bit faster to elicit more reactions from you.

Your hips buck into the sensation and a squeal leaves your lips. His hand slips back to cup your hip, pulling you further into him as he laps at your clit again and again. The hand keeping your labia spread shifts downward, and you jolt as he presses his middle and pointer finger against your hole, circling the flesh to gather your slick. The movement of his tongue stalls for a moment until he pushes his fingers into you, and he laps again, but much faster this time, grunting out in satisfaction at the way your walls flutter around his fingers and suck them in more. Moans leave your lips and your body tenses up, a cry leaving the moan before you shift down a little to push into his fingers. He curls them, feeling along your inner walls slowly and gently to find that spot that'll make you quiver, and he does; your hips buck again and you cry once more, the pleasure overloading your senses and rendering you to a whimpering mess. He laps away at your clit again, eating like a man starved; curling those two fingers on your g-spot and rubbing his fingertips against it slowly, gently.

The sensation causes the cord in your tummy to tighten. It doesn't take more of his assault to throw you over the edge; he continues, with an increased fervor upon feeling you tense around his fingers and hearing your noises take on a desperate edge. He pulls you closer, grunting into your pussy as you cry out and ball your hands into fists, grinding a little into the friction as your vision goes white and you sob his name. You continue, riding out your orgasm and whimpering his name quietly. His movements stop after your noises quiet, and he withdraws his fingers and pulls back to look up at you, making sure you're looking at him before he pulls his fingers apart; showing you the string of your fluid that connects them between breaking. He chuckles a bit and stands up as he looks you over. Your eyes flutter shut and you whimper softly, tilting your head back. Your body relaxes, but not for long as you hear a zipper being undone. Your eyes open just as he turns you around and pins you against the wall. One hand against the wall between your waist and your arm, his lips on the back of your shoulder as his other hand comes to your waist, pulling back you back against him. You give a surprised noise and he chuckles. "What? D'you think we were done?" You don't respond, and he hums. "Good. 'Cause we aren't." He pushes against you as you arch your back, your eyes widening as you feel his cock pressing against your cunt; a whine leaving your lips before he pulls his hand from your hip to wrap around the base of him, adjusting himself to rest the tip of his cock against your hole, watching as you flutter around him. He chuckles softly at the sight, and puts his hand on your lower stomach, slowly guiding his hips forward. His cock slips into you with ease, and you feel a faint stinging pain from the stretch, but the full feeling his cock gives you distracts you from the pain. It's familiar, almost; like your body remembers how he fit inside you. Your slick coats his cock, making the fit a bit more easy. He groans softly into your ear, the feeling of you around him more than heavenly. "Fuck. S'fuckin tight. Mm... like you were made for me, hm?"

He grunts quietly as he feels you pulse around him, and he tilts his hips slightly, cupping your lower tummy as he grinds into you testingly. A whine leaves your lips, but you don't stop him. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you feel some sort of sense of relief at finally being filled; by him. His breath fans over your shoulder as he grinds into you slowly, rolling his hips into yours; pulling out a bit before pushing forward and rubbing his hips into yours. He continues like this, one hand sliding up your front and wrapping around your throat, a gentle hold that keeps your head still. Your eyes keep shut, eager moans leaving your lips as you push back into him. For a few moments he continues this movement, just reveling in the feeling of your cunt around him before he begins thrusting. Slowly, at the same pace, raking his cock in and out of you, sending shocks of pleasure through you as you tighten a bit around him, eliciting groans from him. His movements speed up and the hand on your lower stomach slips downward, his middle and ring finger rubbing circles over your clit. You lurch a little and give a little cry, still feeling a bit overstimulated from the previous activities.

That sensation leaves almost immediately as he thrusts into you quickly, the sounds of your bodies together filling the room amongst his groans and your squeals. You lift one of your legs, tilting your head against the wall and his grip on your throat tightens as he starts rutting into you; the feeling of you is getting to him as much as the feeling of him is getting to you. Your moans increase in pitch, and your mind is scrambled by the pleasure. Your walls quiver as he continues, bullying into your cunt. He's chasing his high, and the circles he draws on your clit also increase in pace. The cord in your stomach draws taut, signalling your incoming orgasm; you can tell by his pace that he's close too. "Fuck-- Gonna cum." He warns into your shoulder, yet his pace doesn't falter.

You whimper and your chest tightens at the thought of him pulling out; wasting his cum like that. "Inside," you babble out quickly, hands balling into fists against the wall. "Please, inside." You stutter over your words as he continues thrusting into you, but he understands you immediately.

You don't have to say it twice. After a moment, he bucks into you up to the hilt, and a shaky groan leaves his throat as he cums; hot, thick ropes that flood your cunt with his spend. The sensation, mixed with the feeling of him rolling his fingers over your clit is enough to make you cum as well, and you cry out, walls quivering on his cock before tensing, milking him. Your body trembles and he pulls his hands away, holding you close to him, hums of affection leaving his throat as he thrusts into you a few more times before his movements stall. There's a bit of content silence before his voice breaks it. "Still think I hate you?" You pause, then you murmur in response shakily, "Mnh-mnh. Thank you..." "You're welcome, pet. But next time you need my cock, say it instead of being a brat." "Then the next time you dream about me, tell me." "...deal."

[rileyslibrary]

pretty pretty please 🩶

imagine ghost is forced to speak at a school’s career fair because he’s out on medical, and reader gets sent with him to chaperone. (i.e. make sure he doesn’t scare any kids to 💀. and also maybe to feed him some slightly manipulative praises so he stays in a good mood lmao)

———————————————————————

You’re both standing in the principal’s office. The school was kind enough to offer you a private room since kids are a little rowdy today, and Ghost isn’t very fond of tiny hands tagging at his uniform and asking him “how many people he has killed”.

You’re holding two balaclavas; one is black, while the other is a deep shade of army green.

“It’s either this one or that one.” You say while raising both to his eye level.

He pushes your hands down and points to his skull mask. “No.” He states. “I’ll stick with the one I’m wearing.”

You frustratedly shake the balaclavas to your sides. “Come on, Lieutenant,” you plead, “you’ll scare the kids.”

“Have you seen kids these days?” he asks, raising his hands. “These fuckers are not afraid of anything!”

“Oh god,” You wince and toss the balaclavas on the principal’s desk. You shake your index finger at his face like a teacher disciplining a misbehaving student. “Don’t you dare to swear in front of them!”

“Have you heard, kids—”

“—these days.” You cut him off with a flick of the wrist. “Yes, but there’s no need to reinforce bad behaviour.”

He lets out a long exhale and places his hands on his waist. He begins pacing around the principal’s office, swearing under his breath. You’re trying to figure out whether he needs to let it all out before his big speech or if he’s cursing the moment he has agreed to do this.

He pauses in front of a painting hanging next to a window overlooking the school’s playground. He slouches and places one hand on his lower back, rubbing his injury.

You approach him from behind and gently grasp his forearm.

“Hey,” you whisper, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replies sternly. “Never mind.”

“Are you in pain? Please talk to me.”

“I’m not in pain!” He protests. “In fact, I wasn’t in pain to begin with, when the medics decided that I was,” he makes air quotes with his fingers, “temporarily unfit for duty.”

You place a palm on his lower back and begin rubbing it. He relaxes at your touch and puts one hand on the wall to support his weight.

“You talk about not reinforcing bad behaviour,” he murmurs, “but I’m not the best role model either.”

“Bullshit!” You scowl.

“Seriously,” he insists, “I highly doubt I’d be here talking to kids about their future if I hadn’t been injured.”

He’s correct, but he doesn’t need to know that, especially now, as you wait to enter a classroom full of kids. Any other team member would be far more qualified for this role. Gaz is such a cool guy that most kids would deem him a god. Price feels like the father you wish you had when he talks, and Soap can adapt to anyone he speaks to. Even you would be a better fit for this year’s career fair. But, Ghost? No, not at all.

“Come on, Simon,” you say as you continue rubbing his back. “It’s less about ‘being a role model’ and more about relating to them.”

“How am I supposed to relate to them?” He wonders, “My childhood was nothing like theirs.”

“How do you know?”

He looks at you and motions towards the window. “Look at them,” he says, “they’re full of life.”

“Not all of them are like that, Ghost; some are putting on a show.” You explain, and he turns to look at you again. “They look all jolly, but they might struggle at home or school. Worse, they can’t admit what’s happening behind closed doors because they’re either ordered to remain silent or not understand it themselves.”

He huffs and shakes his head. “Now I can relate to that.” He murmurs.

“See? You need to spot these kids and indirectly talk to them.”

“Spot?” He asks. “How do I spot them?”

“You mean to tell me you’re trained to spot targets from miles away but can’t see when a child suffers in silence?” You ask back. “Plus, it takes one to know one.”

He nods. “And what should I communicate to these kids?” He asks. “How do I help them?”

“By showing them that there’s something better waiting for them out there.”

“Don’t be naive, Y/N. How is what we do better than what they’re going through right now?”

“It’s not about the military, Simon.” You elaborate. “It’s about giving them another chance. They deserve to know there are options other than turning into their drug-addicted mother or alcoholic father.” You lean forward so he can meet your gaze. “Someone gave you a second chance, right?”

He closes his eyes and ponders your words. You tilt your head at him, trying to predict what he’ll say next so you can respond quickly.

But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he straightens up and takes a deep breath. “You know,” he begins, “I gave one of those speeches to a school a few years ago.”

“Oh!” You cheer and pat him on the back twice. “Did you, now?”

“Lysychansk, Ukraine.” He recalls, “I was being held hostage with a bunch of kids.”

“Tell me more about it,” you say, sitting on the principal’s desk and playing with a pink highlighter. He begins narrating his story, and you can tell he’s becoming more confident as he realises he’s spoken to children before, albeit in a very different context, but who cares? What matters is that he is becoming more at ease with his “previous experience.”

You, in turn, try to give him your full attention, but now that his doubts have subsided, your primary concern is that mask of his. He needs to take it off.

“See? You’re far more experienced than any of us!” you shout. “And in that setting? My god! None of us would have been able to do such a thing!”

He chuckles and looks proudly out the window at the children playing in the school’s playground. He seems to be looking forward to it now.

“Hey, um, sir?”

He shifts his focus to you.

“Your mask, sir; It’s dirty,” you say as you point to his cheek.

He puts his hands on his mask. “Where?” He yells.

“It’s right….” You get up from the desk and take a step closer to him, inspecting his mask. You raise the marker and draw a bright pink line across his cheek, “...there.”

He immediately places his hand on his cheek, looks at the highlighter in your hand, and then back at you.

“You... motherfucker...” he murmurs.

You move away from him and stand behind the desk.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you go out with that mask on; the parents will be furious.” You point to the balaclavas on the principal’s desk. “You do, however, have two other options! Take your pick, and I’ll see you in class in 5 minutes!” And with that, you rush out of the principal’s office and into the school’s corridor.

You enter the classroom and greet the kids with a smile, trying to hide your nervousness. Walking towards the back where the parents are seated, your mind starts racing; Is he trying to choose a mask, or is he cleaning up your mess? What if he’s so furious that he doesn’t show up, leaving you to give the speech? Worse, what if he enters the classroom and takes his anger out on you?

But, the door opens, and Ghost walks in. Your eyes widen, and your jaw drops. He’s not wearing any mask. Not the black one, not the green one, not the skull—with the pink streak—mask on. Nothing.

You observe him moving around; despite his lack of disguise, he maintains his composure. He greets everyone in the room, smiles, waves back at the kids and stands next to the teacher. You let out a relieved exhale through pierced lips. This is going well, thank god.

As the teacher introduces Ghost to the class, you turn to give him a thumbs up, and his eyes lock with yours. There’s a faint smirk playing on his lips, and your heart skips a beat as he silently mouths something in your direction: “You’ll pay for this.”

———————————————————————

A/N: YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS, ANON! I was forcing myself to take a break from writing, only to be slapped by an inspiration wave. Hope you liked it, though; I had fun making it.

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Mafia Ringleader x GN Reader

What? I'm sick of these classic Mafia husbands trope yet we all know damn well that part of us is digging real deep into it. So allow me to hand you one of my Mafia OCs.

One of the nation's biggest threats has yet to be your lover, wagging his imaginary tail as he rested his face on your lap. We are so desensitized to how immoral a mafia is due to the romanticization of it to the point you just straight up ignore all his crimes!

Because of his work, the two of you can't really have a private date somewhere out there. Sure the bodyguards are not in sight but you know better than to think that they are not lurking around to keep you both safe from his rivals.

"Won't you gimme a smooch'aroo?" "... In front of your men?" "*Pouts* Pretty please?"

You love it when he throws all cold facades away and shifts himself into a touch-starved puppy! Who would have known this guy just sent one of his enemies their men's heads as a lingering threat to not exert themselves~

While your lover is not involved in the human trafficking side, it doesn't justify his actions for being the largest drug dealer in this nation. Whatever type you are looking for, junkies, he has it all stored for you, with a price of course.

But if you are a junkie reader then he'd be quite worried. You see, he may be dealing drugs but that doesn't mean he's doing drugs. He likes nicotine but would rather not indulge himself in yet another addiction okay? And that goes the same way to you! Please stop it.

And may I tell you that Kaspar enjoys ranting to you about how his day(s) has been, how he wants you to comfort him as you praise him for surviving yet another day? Empty plates are not filled with him just sitting around and he has to fight every day to not remind himself of the old days?

"Oh yes, have my beloved eaten? You are not going through another silly diet, right? Trust me, food is meant to be enjoyed and not over-calculated!"

There are also times he'd rant non-stop about this certain lawyer that he's working with. Of how one of the nation's biggest threats, has been reduced into an errand boy for his spouse! Can you believe that, babe?

Overall Rating? 9/10. Where did the 1 one go to? Your dead friend that insulted you and his punishments. Ehe.

Look, he has a problem with people who dare to look down on him and you, he has grown up in a rather unfortunate background in which he fights teeth and nails to break free so how DARE someone patronize him or you?

Yeah, it sounds romantic but not so cute when it's your literal bestie. He spares no mercy in how he deals with them too, the only mercy he's offering is one chance and nothing more.

Another dark side of him would be his... punishment. Ehe. Due to his upbringing as a ringleader, he is used to disciplining his men, rough. Sure he doesn't give you the same punishment as he does to his men but that doesn't mean it saves you from how unpleasant it is.

The worst punishment that wrenches his heart would be making you skip breakfast, lunch, and dinner! He doesn't have the heart to but he has to! (Honestly, in your opinion, there is literally worse punishment than this, not gonna name it.)

Yeah he is a Beelzebub at heart (Gluttony)

[hyewka]

soobin + hybrid pls :33

⭑ warnings; hybrid!au, sub!soobin, blowjob, breeding, impregnation kink (this is filth good god), big dick soob, dubious consent somno

⭑ send in a small prompt with the format of (member) + (nsfw prompt) and ill write you a small drabble!

owning soobin as your eccentric bunny hybrid who goes around humping literally everything you own, his favorite being your poor couch. you'd have to stop the poor thing from unknowingly going at it on your leg in pure daylight or when guests are over, thankfully after a while he learnt to control that part of himself, saving you from anymore future awkward encounters in public. you've searched and looked all over the internet for anything to help tone it down just a little bit but every pill that promises to get rid of it completely only does so for an hour or two before your bunny starts it again like the horn dog he is.

using your mouth on soobin was a home remedy that surprisingly worked for longer than a few hours and you're beyond surprised, he loves it. 'not gonna play with you like this again if you continue ruining my couch bun, know that right?' he nods and nods and he doesn't stop, his tongue out panting so dumbly as you squeeze the base of his bunny dick, satisfied with his obedience. so that marks the day you dump out all the useless vitamins and pills, emptying your bathroom vanity.

of course, all this really does is get him obsessed with you sucking off his dick, retaliating by ruining your couch even more. does he like the feeling of you punishing him? does he know that you're weak to his eyes and you always give in the week of denying his begging and pleading? yeah, you needed to practice some self discipline--your knees would thank you.

when week two comes around, and soobins sulking around everyday, trying his best to get you to give in, because he's so so addicted to the warmth of your mouth the moment you had got on your knees for him but you're really strict this time and he feels like he could cry. it gets even worse when he feels a fire in his tummy in the middle of the night, heating up rather quickly, and he groans. heat period, now of all days.

he really is cursed but bunny!soob is unhinged, he can't stand being hornier than usual so what does he do? he goes to your room, tries to think over his options but fuck it, he goes in, climbs in your bed, as careful as he can, he tries to make it quick, just a little bit of your warmth and your scent and god, he clumsily pulls down your panties in one go, dick standing up tall, rubbing against your cheeks and he's already sent to overdrive. you're murmuring, moving a little bit. when he looks over to check your face you're not opening your eyes, he sighs. he'd definitely get punished for life for this so he swears he won't cum at all and if he feels that he would, he's running straight to the bathroom.

unfortunately bun soobin isn't known for having self control, so when he's done prepping, rubbing your core and collecting at your arousal, he doesn't let your body get used to his cock, bottoming out, stretching you out to unimaginable degrees. if you pretend to be sleeping before, you aren't now.

"s-soobin, shit, d-do you wanna--get punished?"

he ignores all your threats to taking away his little blowjob privilege because this is a hundred times better, this is heaven. bunny soobin who really doesn't stop, he can't, he physically can't, his thrusts are erratic yet it felt like his stuffing cock was hitting your womb each time. you feel so full already, you weren't ready for what comes next. soobin promised to himself he won't cum, he can't or you'd kill him, but he's too far gone, his eyes rolling back as he feels his high coming rather quick. "wanna fuck a baby into you, please let me-- 'm cumming, cumming!"

he can't hear your protests-- it's all background white noise, he's just fucking into you, sopping sounds coming from your pussy as he mewls, your ass feels like it's bruised with how hard he slams into you, bunny's just sooo so obsessed with your cunt. and when he eventually cums, and you then later, he doesn't stop. you're past overstimulation with how much he filled you up, and yet he still keeps going and going, switching positions with him hovering over you with your legs pressed to your chest like all you were was a breeding bitch for him to spill his load in. all hybrid!bunny soobin does the night is plan to fill you up with his seed, cute scut twitching every time he jizzes lol >_<

[gammasnippets]

Drive T

SNSD Kim Taeyeon x Male Reader

12,260 words (Co-edited by @capslocked and @sparkynsfws)

Wimbledon—one of the most prestigious tennis tournaments in the world, known for its rich history and iconic traditions. It's the highlight of the tennis season, where the best players from around the globe compete for the coveted title on the hallowed grass courts of the All England Club. This is where names are made, and where legends are born. From casual fans to hardcore tennis enthusiasts, everyone is eager to witness the thrilling matches and the breathtaking displays of skill the players unleash on the courts. And with only a few months to prepare, you do your best to be in your best physical and mental condition for the coming tournament.

That is… If you're one of the qualifying players.

Something suddenly hits your head, snapping you out of your daydreaming. It was a tennis ball, rolling down your face. It's not even a hard hit, but it sure is enough to knock you back to reality. You then scan the tennis court looking for the culprit. Not far from you stands a woman, one hand on her racket and the other on her hip, and she doesn't look pleased.

"Hey! Quit your daydreaming, will you?" says the woman, sounding annoyed.

"That was uncalled for, you know?" you retort as you rub the point of impact, a spark of irritation in your voice.

"I just finished warming up here and the next thing I know, you're in your own world!" she snaps back, clearly unapologetic for her errant shot.

"Well, if only you didn't arrive late, we could've started our practice session on time," you reply, trying to maintain your composure.

The woman doesn't seem to like your response and walks towards you, her face slowly turning red.

"So it's my fault that you scheduled our practice session at such an inconvenient time?"

"What? You told me that you're only available today and that you really wanted to practice," you protest, feeling both confused and frustrated.

"At fucking midnight?" she exclaims, raising her voice.

"Well, it's only an hour after…"

"11 PM, 12 AM… Whatever! It's late in the evening, you dumbass!"

She kinda has a point. Despite the great discount you received for renting the tennis court at nighttime, you begin to realize that scheduling a session close to midnight wasn't the wisest decision.And she has every right to be angry about the inconvenience.

You take a step back, realizing that this argument is getting out of hand.

"Alright, alright… I'm sorry, Taeyeon-noona. I should've checked with you first."

To your relief, her anger softens slightly, and she sighs.

"Well, we're way past that now. Might as well make use of the time while we're here."

"Thanks for understanding…"

"Just don't you ever do this again," she says as she points her racket at you, her tone still sharp. "Or I'll make sure to hit you harder next time."

"Okay. I get it," you reply, feeling intimidated by her fiery demeanor.

You were always intimidated by Taeyeon's fiery demeanor. As your former teacher and tennis club advisor, she's known to be as strict and disciplined. You can't forget the torture she put you through, but that didn't sway you from leaving the sport you're passionate about. And for better, or more likely worse, you and Taeyeon are still in touch after all these years. Maybe you could've found a better partner, but you've never been more comfortable with anyone else other than her.

You and Taeyeon proceed to continue your practice session on the tennis court. Both of you are determined to make the most of the remaining time and improve your skills, ignoring the tension that still lingers in the air. The court fills with the sound of powerful swings, focused footwork, and the occasional grunt of exertion as you both push yourselves to the limit. Well-deserved breaks are taken to catch your breath, sip some water, and exchange a few friendly jokes amidst the intensity.

After a few rounds of intense practice, the two of you decide to take a much longer break.

"Fuck… I need a break," you pant, collapsing onto a nearby bench.

"Jeez. You're tired already?" Taeyeon teases you, as desperate for air as you are.

"You're the one to talk," you retorted, throwing the tease back at her.

"Well, you're the one who keeps on making me run all over the court!" she grumbles as she retires beside you, pouting her lips.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," you reply, smirking.

"Yet I still won," she boasts, a smug grin spreading across her face.

"I only let you win, you know?" you shrug nonchalantly.

Taeyeon laughs out loud at your cocky remark.

"As if! You always trip when you're returning my drop shots."

"Hey… It only happened once."

"More like twice!"

You raise your hands in mock surrender.

"Okay… It happened twice. Happy now?"

"You bet," she continues to laugh. "God, that was funny."

Taeyeon can't help but giggle at your mistakes during the game. As much as you find her laughter infectious, her teasing you might have hit a nerve. You want to retaliate by telling her how equally awful she was at returning her serves. But maybe she deserves this after the earlier exchange.

"So, wanna do a few more rounds?" you propose to Taeyeon, eager to win against her.

"Already? Can't we relax a bit more?" she asks, her body still slumped against the bench.

"Come on. We still have a lot of time left," you urge her, giving her a good nudge with your elbow.

"Exactly! Can't we use the time to rest longer?" she complains, faking an exhausted expression.

You sneer at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Noona, please. Don't be such a baby. You're too old for that," you tell her.

She then lets out a loud gasp. You obviously hit a nerve.

"Hey! I'm not old, you fuck!" she exclaims, raising her voice.

You chuckle. "Yeah, but you're definitely older than me."

"I'm only 34!" she yells, her cheeks turning slightly red.

"You can even pass as my aunt," you joke, unable to resist pushing her buttons even further.

In a hurry, she ejects herself from the bench, ready to argue back.

"Listen here, you little shit. You can joke all you want, but I can kick your ass right here, right now."

Seems like your teasing had the wrong effect on Taeyeon. As if a fuse inside her was lit, she's ready to fight you with words, fists, and probably anything else she can get her hands on.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," you apologize, trying to appease her.

But Taeyeon's not having it, and she's still fuming.

"That's not gonna cut it, you asshole," she continues to rant. "Y'know what? Let's make this interesting."

You don't know what's going through her head, but whatever it is, you don't like it.

"What? Interesting, how?"

"Since you think I'm such a weak old lady, even though I've beaten you many times…"

"We're almost even," you interject, but she's quick to cut you off.

"Shut up! You're not helping your case," she barks, glaring at you.

You shut your mouth and let her finish.

"Anyway, I bet I can beat you in a singles match," she declares, her tone serious.

The proposition sounds appealing to you, but it does feel like you're being manipulated.

"You can't be serious, right?"

"Do I look like I'm not?"

You scan her face carefully. Her expression doesn't waver and looks dead serious. You begin to regret messing with her earlier, and you're unsure what to say next.

"Well?" she asks again, expecting a clear answer.

You can't help but let out a deep sigh.

"Okay… What's on the line, then?"

"The loser has to follow the winner's every command."

You're a little taken aback by the wager, not because it's particularly absurd, but rather that you can't believe how quickly she's able to come up with this kind of proposition.

"That… That's quite a bold bet," you say, feeling a bit intimidated by the conditions.

"Are you backing out already? I thought you're a better player than that."

"No, I'm not! I'm just… Surprised," you stutter, unsure if you're able to take the challenge.

"Don't be such a chicken," she taunts you, a devilish smirk forming on her lips.

The teaser now becomes teased, and her expression is the one that you would never want to see. She's ready to fight you, and not just with her words. You can sense her desire for victory emanating out of her, and that scares the hell out of you.

Suddenly, immense pressure is crushing you down, and you begin to doubt yourself. Taeyeon's always been a formidable player, even with her age and size. If it weren't for her teaching you, you wouldn't have learned all the tricks that you've used to win many matches. You start to regret your decision to play with her, and you have no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat.

"Alright… You've got a deal," you agree, taking the challenge.

She gives a smug grin.

"That's what I wanted to hear," she chuckles. "Well, we've got plenty of time. Shall we have a nice game?"

"I guess so…"

The two of you prepare for the match, putting your rackets and other equipment away. As you're preparing, a thought pops into your mind, and you have a burning question to ask Taeyeon.

"You do realize that a singles match is longer than doubles, right?"

"Well, we can adjust the rules. This isn't an official match, after all."

"Alright. So how do you want to do this? Best out of three sets?"

"Sounds fair enough."

With the agreement, you and Taeyeon prepare to take the court once again. Both of you are determined to win and get the advantage over the other.

You set off the game with your first serve, hitting a fastball to the far corner of the service box. Taeyeon returns with a strong swing, hitting a high-speed shot that you're unable to defend. She takes the first point.

"Shit," you curse under your breath, as the scoreboard shows 15-0.

You try not to lose your focus as you return to the baseline and prepare for the next serve.

You decide to be more careful, not wanting to repeat the same mistake. Your next serve is a lot slower and hits the back of the service box. Taeyeon's return is weaker, allowing you to defend easily. With the advantage, you go on the offense and score a point.

"Yes!" you celebrate, pumping your fist.

"Hey. Not bad," Taeyeon concedes, not wanting to praise you.

"You can't expect me to let you have the advantage all the time," you brag, not letting her dampen your spirit.

"Try me."

Those two words somehow have a strange effect on you, and your confidence quickly wavers.

You try to be a little bit more aggressive on your next serve, and she's forced to make a mistake, throwing the ball off bounds. The score is now tied at 15-30.

The two of you continue your game, fighting tooth and nail to get the advantage. You give your best and so does her. Neither of you are willing to let the other gain any sort of upper hand.

The score eventually reads 40-30, with Taeyeon holding the lead. A single point would end the set and give her a huge advantage.

The volleys between you and Taeyeon are fast and aggressive, but with a strong swing, she manages to catch you off guard, scoring the winning point. She wins the first set.

She cheers at her victory, a wide grin spread across her face.

"Not bad. Didn't think I'd get the first point, huh?"

"Yeah, but the first set doesn't matter," you retort, not wanting to get discouraged.

"Is that so, hotshot? You can try."

You grit your teeth, and you're not sure whether Taeyeon's taunt was meant to annoy you, but her words had its desired effect. You're now ready to prove her wrong and win the second set.

She starts off the second set, preparing for her next serve.

"Let's see if you can return this one," she challenges you with a sly smile on her face.

"Bring it," you reply, your focus unwavering.

Taeyeon lets out a fast serve, aiming for the corner of the service box. Luckily for you, you manage to read her serve and position yourself perfectly to return it with a strong forehand. A few quick exchanges later, you score with a cross-court shot to start the second set with a point in your favor.

It's now your turn to serve. You perform a tricky flat serve, hoping to catch Taeyeon off guard. She anticipates your serve, returning it with a well-placed backhand slice that lands just over the net. In your hesitation to reach the ball, you mistakenly returned it too high and Taeyeon seizes the opportunity, smashing with a powerful overhead shot. The score is now tied at 15-15 in the second set.

You didn't let this setback discourage you. Instead, you double down on your serve, determined to not repeat the same mistake. Taeyeon is also focused and prepared to return your next serve.

With a swift motion, you throw another fast serve, and Taeyeon returns it with a powerful forehand, forcing you to make a mistake. But you managed to return the ball at an awkward angle, giving her a difficult ball to return. You seize the opportunity and score the next point.

The tension between you and Taeyeon is at an all-time high as the second set moves closer to its conclusion. Each point is fought fiercely, and there are a lot of close calls. Neither of you is willing to concede even a single point.

With both of you on the verge of exhaustion, the match is now coming down to the wire.

The score is now 15-40. You need a single point to win the second set.

You have the opportunity to serve. Taeyeon prepares herself, ready to receive your next serve.

"Here goes," you mutter, trying to psych yourself up. With a powerful serve, you launch the ball over the net. You watch anxiously as the ball flies toward the opposite side of the court. She reacts quickly, running towards the ball and returning with a strong forehand. You are forced to return the ball with a lob.

In the air, the ball curves towards the left, landing just outside the lines. You can only hope that Taeyeon isn't able to return it. But with her usual finesse, she returns the ball with a backhand lob, landing just in front of you. It's your turn to seal the deal with a powerful backhand of your own that hits the corner of the court, earning you the final point of the second set.

You try to keep your composure despite the win, but deep down you're ecstatic.

"Nice job," she compliments you.

You only give her a nod in return.

"So, shall we start the last set?"

"Yeah. Let's."

The chill of the midnight air dissipates as the final set begins. With both of you equally fired up and determined to win, you prepare for the final round.

This is it. The last set of the match. There's no time to lose.

You take the serve, performing a tricky jump serve that she struggles to defend. With a powerful swing, you hit a fastball that she's unable to return. You take the first point.

Taeyeon's serving next. With a fast serve, she catches you off guard and you're unable to defend her serve. The score is now 15-15 in the final set.

The pressure is mounting on you as the set progresses. You want to win. You both do. But there's something in her that drains you of your will. You're not sure if she's just playing a good mind game, or if she really has the upper hand.

The turn to serve goes back to you. You're determined not to let Taeyeon get a free pass. With a slow flat serve, you try to catch her off guard. She returns it with a well-timed forehand. You quickly move towards the ball and return it with a sharp topspin that lands just inside the line. She's unable to return the ball and you score a point.

The score is now 30-15 in your favor. The momentum is shifting in your direction. But it feels as though it isn't.

Taeyeon's serving next, and she looks determined to break the momentum. She hits a fast serve, hoping to catch you off guard. You return it with a powerful forehand. But her next shot is even faster, hitting a topspin that forces you to return it with a weak lob.

At that point, she brandishes her trademark move.

She rushes towards the ball, winding up for a smash. You prepare yourself to counter her attack… Only for Taeyeon to swing her racket sideways as it falls down, hitting the ball with a strong topspin. In a rush, you chase after the ball, but it bounces erratically, almost at a 90-degree angle. Before you can do anything, the ball lands outside the line.

“Drive T” is what she calls it. Not only does she swings her arms in a T shape, but the topspin she generates causes the ball to draw a cross, or rather a small letter T, as it bounces uncontrollably on the court. It’s a move that is very hard to predict, both to the players and spectators alike. You’ve seen her used that technique on many occasions, both to intimidate her opponents and to finish the game quickly. It is her dangerous weapon.

And she just used it against you.

Your jaw hangs open in shock. You can't believe she did that.

"Now that's a topspin!" Taeyeon boasts, laughing.

As much as you want to respond to her, you're not sure if you can. As "friendly" as this game is, you can't help but feel a creeping sense of dread at how serious this is turning out.

The score is now tied 30-30. The tension is getting even higher, and your mind is racing. You want to win. You need to win.

You take a deep breath as you prepare for your next serve. As calm as you can be, you send the ball towards her with a powerful serve that sails all the way to the other end of the net. But with her quick reflexes, Taeyeon effortlessly returns the serve with a perfectly executed backhand. You send it back with a swift backhand of your own, making her chase the ball towards the sideline. She manages to get to the ball just in time, and with a flick of her wrist, she sends a sharp topspin towards your corner.

Your heart races as you anticipate the spin and speed of the approaching ball, adjusting your movement to counter her shot with a controlled forehand. However, as you send the ball back, she has positioned herself near the net, swinging it downwards with incredible power and speed. You already put all your strength in returning the previous shot that you have no more time left to react accordingly, making the ball slip past you and land out of your reach.

Taeyeon grunts with satisfaction as her shot gives her a crucial point, bringing the score to 40-30 in her favor.

You curse under your breath, realizing that you may have bit off more than you can chew. But you have no option to back down now. All that's left is to turn the tables and win.

You take another deep breath as you wait for her to make her next move.

Your eyes remain locked on Taeyeon as she prepares to serve, her intense focus indicating that she's not going to make this easy for you. What happens next is like a blur as the ball immediately zooms towards you the moment she tosses it into the air, not even letting it wait for gravity to pull it down. With her on match point, she has all the reasons to end this game as quickly as possible.

You quickly run to intercept the ball, swatting it with a powerful forehand. She stays on her toes, moving swiftly to return your shot with a skillful backhand slice that barely clears the net. The distance is quite the challenge, but it's something you can still manage. You make a sprint towards the net, just in time to hit it back with a drop shot that catches Taeyeon off guard. With her nimble feet, she manages to reach the ball, though she has to dive in for the last few inches just to keep the rally going. And with a desperate lob, she sends the ball soaring high into the air, giving you enough time to deliver a crushing overhead smash that lands just inside the baseline, completely out of Taeyeon's reach.

As the ball connects with the court, a sense of triumph washes over you, pumping your fist in the air. You managed to buy yourself some room to breathe in this fiery match and gain a much-needed point, leveling the score at 40-40. Taeyeon recovers herself from her dive, letting out a sigh as she recovers her breathing. You're exhausted yourself, struggling to catch your breath after the intense rally. But there's no time to rest. You lock eyes with her, both of your eyes burning with determination to win over the other. The next serve could very well be the turning point of the entire match.

Once again, it's your turn to serve. Everything is suddenly hazy as if the world around you blurs into a complete mess of colors. All that's clear in your eyes are the ball in your hands, the lines on the court, and the woman in front of you. It could be the adrenaline. It could be the fear of losing. It could be anything. But none of that matters. Send the ball her way, swing it back if she dares to return it, repeat.

The next few rounds are nothing but intense back-and-forth as you and Taeyeon fight for every point. The ball flies across the court in a flurry of precise shots and strategic placement. You're tired as hell, and maybe, so is she. But neither of you can afford to let up even for a moment, not even an inch, as the score remains neck and neck.

After a few deuces and grueling rallies, the tension on the court reaches its peak. She has managed to bring the score to what could potentially be the final point of the entire match. You're both sweating profusely, your bodies glistening under the harsh stadium lights. The cold air that should be a reprieve feels suffocating against your heated skin. She could be on her last legs, but you're kind of on the same page.

You prepare yourself as Taeyeon prepares her to serve, her eyes locked on yours like a hawk, unwavering and intense. Her serve is swift, darting through the air with deadly accuracy. You react quickly, heading forward to meet the ball with a powerful forehand return. She then easily steps into position, returning the ball with a soft backhand shot. You match her shot with a well-executed slice, aiming to throw her off balance. But she still manages to reach the ball with a quick flick of her wrist, sending it sailing over the net with surprising speed and precision.

As the ball hurtles towards you, you summon every ounce of your pent-up aggression to smack the ball back with an explosive topspin shot, making the ball draw a sharp curve towards the sideline. This is all you have left. You can feel your strength draining as you shout your heart out with that final, desperate shot.

Unfortunately… Your tough opponent, Taeyeon, is right there, ready and waiting.

In a matter of seconds, the distance between her and the ball closes as she lunges forward, her body contorting with the grace and agility of a seasoned athlete. And as she swings her racket in a cross through the air, you know that she isn't just going to return the ball - she's sealing the deal with her Drive T. She hits the ball with such power that it spins wildly as soon as it's airborne. You watch it making its landing not far from you and with your heart pounding, you scramble to retrieve it. But with the ball's unpredictable spin, it bounces away from you instead of it landing in your control.

And as the ball bounces down to a stop, Taeyeon wins the match, winning 2 sets to 1.

"Yay! I won!"

She screams in joy and hops up and down with excitement as if all her exhaustion has instantly evaporated. Meanwhile, you collapse to the ground, completely outplayed and spent. As she celebrates her victory, she notices that you've been anchored to the ground. She makes her way towards you, skipping lightly in joy.

Trying not to feel bitter about your defeat, you raise your hand, giving her a thumbs up and a genuine smile. She responds in kind, before extending her hand to help you up.

"Well, looks like you took the match. That was nice," you say as you sit up, catching your breath as you try to compose yourself after the intense match.

"Thanks. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a moment to recover. My legs feel like they're burning, though."

"Oh. Same here… But I'm good."

"Damn. How do you even do that?"

"I told you many times to work on your legs! I always tell you to do more than just jog," she scolds you as if losing to her wasn't enough.

"Alright, alright," you reply, rolling your eyes. "I'll start next week."

"Well you better be," she chuckles, tapping her racket lightly against your shoulder.

You chuckle amidst the exhaustion, the frustration you felt at losing to Taeyeon fading away.

"So, is that your dare for me?" you ask her.

"Hmmm?"

"You won, right?"

"Oh! Right! The bet!" Taeyeon's eyes then widened in realization.

You shake your head lightly, amused by her sudden forgetfulness.

"And you still deny that you're old—ow!"

She smacks you again with her racket, albeit harder this time.

"What did I just say about calling me old?"

"Okay, okay! Jeez, what a killjoy," you mutter, rubbing your shoulder.

"What was that?" she taunts, preparing to hit you again.

"Nothing! I said nothing," you quickly respond, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Good!" she exclaims, giggling.

"Now, what do you want me to do?" you repeat, trying not to provoke her.

Her attitude changes quickly.

"You're actually gonna go through with it?"

"I mean, you won, so…"

"Are you sure?"

"Come on, just tell me what you want me to do," you urge her.

She pauses for a moment, contemplating the terms of her victory.

"Well, since I beat you pretty badly…"

"That was close," you protest, only to earn a glare from her.

"It wasn't. Now shut up and listen."

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod.

"Y'know what? You look like a tired mess right there. Let's head over to the bench and I'll think of a good prize."

"But my body's still—"

She lets out a loud, exasperated sigh.

"Alright. Get up, you lousy ass," she extends her hand, offering to pull you up.

You take it and let her lead the way to the benches. It's not that far, but the short walk to the benches is enough to make your knees wobble and legs ache. The two of you collapse onto the bench, finally able to relax and rest for a bit.

"Jeez, I didn't think the match was gonna be that hard. You did really well," she says, giving you a soft pat on the shoulder.

"Well… I was against you, after all. Of course, it'll be hard," you respond, your tone slightly annoyed.

"Hey! Don't get me wrong. It's still a nice game."

"I guess. Thanks," you say, shrugging.

A moment of silence ensues, and the two of you sit quietly, basking in the cool air. Despite feeling sore, a little break is all you need to recharge after the intense game. You then look at Taeyeon, and she doesn't seem to show any signs of exhaustion, despite sweating profusely and having her breath ragged after the match.

"Say, how come you don't look as tired as I am?" you ask her, breaking the silence.

"Well, for starters, I've got a lot more years of experience than you," she quips, grinning smugly.

You roll your eyes and sigh, too tired to give a smart retort.

"But seriously, though. You should take better care of your body. You're still young," she says, her tone sounding more like a concerned mother than a friend.

"You've been saying that for a while now," you grumble.

"Well, that's because I was your teacher! Jeez! Don't be so stubborn," she protests, giving your shoulder a light shove.

"I'm not being stubborn. I'm just tired," you then let out another deep breath. "You took all the air out of me"

"Exactly. And that's why I'm telling you to take care of your body better," she says, her tone firm.

"Okay, fine," you concede.

"Now, shall we move on?"

"Sure. Let's talk about my dare," you say, eager to finally know what she wants.

"Right. Are you sure you're in on this?"

"I'm sure. Yeah," you assure her.

"100%? No take-backs, okay?"

"If it's not anything too extreme."

"Don't worry. It's nothing like that."

You look at her, and she smirks at you. Something tells you that you'll regret this, but curiosity gets the better of you.

"Fine. Shoot it."

"Pull down your shorts."

Your jaw hangs open. You expected her to ask for a silly dare, like a funny photo or something along those lines. But this? You didn't expect this at all.

"H-huh? W-what did you just say?" you stammer, your cheeks burning red.

"Come on. It's not gonna kill you."

"But… That's—"

"Just a little fun, really."

You're speechless, your eyes wide as you process the words.

"I… I don't think I can do that."

"Hey. The deal was the loser has to do everything the winner asks, right? You lost. So, do it."

You swallow the lump in your throat and sigh. There's no getting around this.

"Okay… Fine," you reluctantly agree, slowly sliding down your shorts.

The fabric brushes against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Your heart beats fast, your palms sweating profusely as you slowly reveal more and more of your bare thighs. Your boxers are the only thing separating your modesty from the woman sitting beside you, and you can't deny her the sight of your growing erection.

Taeyeon's lips curl into a satisfied grin, and she bites her lower lip as she sees the tent forming between your legs.

"You're really turned on by this, huh?" she says, teasing you.

"It… It's not like that, I swear."

"Sure, whatever you say," she giggles.

"So… Is this it? Did I pass the dare?" you ask, trying to change the subject.

"Well, technically… But now I'm interested in something else," she replies, her voice dropping an octave.

"And? What would that be?"

"Let's just say I want to see what's underneath those boxers."

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, and you instinctively cross your legs.

"Noona… There could be people watching us," you tell her, scanning the entire area.

"It's 3 AM. Do you think those guards will even bother walking around at this hour? No one's gonna see," she reasons.

"But…"

"The deal?"

"Okay, fine. I'll do it."

Slowly, you take a deep breath and reach down for your boxers.

"Ugh… What am I doing?" you mumble, cursing at yourself.

You grab the hem and pull down the fabric grazing against your shaft. Your erection springs up, freed from the confines of your underwear.

"Wow. Now that's quite a view," Taeyeon chuckles, ogling your exposed member.

You turn away, too embarrassed to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry. This is so embarrassing," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey. Don't be. Especially when you have this…" she bites her lip, her eyes fixated on your dick. "Big thing right there."

Your cheeks burn a bright red, and you feel like you could explode.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Of course not! Come on, you can't tell me it's not hot."

You stay silent, unable to answer.

"Alright. Lemme suck that," she says, leaning in closer to you.

"W-what? Y-you can't be serious!"

"Hey. No take-backs."

"But this is—"

"Listen. You clearly look like you're not in on this."

"I… I didn't say that…"

"So? What's with the hesitation?"

"I-it's just that… This is kind of sudden," you reply, unable to think straight.

"Then let me ease you into it," she says, grabbing your dick with her hand.

Your breath hitches, the sudden contact of her soft hand against your sensitive shaft taking you by surprise. She slowly moves her hand up and down, gently massaging your dick. You can't help but let out a low moan as her fingers run across the tip, sending shivers down your spine.

"How does that feel?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I-I don't know…" you manage to say, your mind in a daze.

She smirks at your reaction, totally getting turned on by your response.

"You did your best so… I'll give you a consolation prize."

"H-huh? What do you mean?"

Before you can say anything, she leans in, her face just inches away from your cock.

"Wait… You can't be serious. You're going to—"

"Let me give you a little treat. You can tell me to stop after, but I hope you won't,” she says, her warm breath brushing against your shaft. “It'll be a shame, really,"

You're speechless, your mouth hanging open as you stare at her in disbelief.

"Well, here I go," she announces, leaning forward and enveloping your cock with her lips.

The sudden warmth sends a shock through your body, and you let out a moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. She starts sucking on the tip, and her tongue swirls around the head, lapping up the beads of precum. You can't believe it, but it feels so good. Your breathing quickens as she continues to suck, taking your dick deeper into her mouth. She moans against your cock, and you can feel her voice vibrating through your shaft.

"Oh, fuck…" you curse, the pleasure driving you insane.

She then grabs the base of your shaft with her hand and starts stroking you in sync with her mouth. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can't help but grab a fistful of her hair, gripping it tightly. She picks up the pace, her hand moving faster as her head bobs up and down. Her eyes lock with yours, and she's clearly enjoying this. You can see the lust in her eyes, and it's all too much for you.

The pressure builds up, your mind goes blank, and all you can think about is the intense pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense up, and before you know it, your body starts shaking uncontrollably. You can feel your balls tightening, and the urge to cum is overwhelming.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

With one final thrust, you unload your seed into her mouth. Taeyeon suddenly looks surprised as you unleash a torrent of cum, filling her mouth. She then pulls out, coughing, the excess dripping down her chin.

"Sorry! I didn't know if you were ready," you apologize, worried that you might have forced her.

She continues to cough, and she wipes the excess cum off her face, taking a moment to catch her breath.

"It's okay. I was kinda taken by surprise, but it's fine," she manages to say, giving you a reassuring smile.

"I'm so sorry. I just couldn't hold it any longer," you apologize again, embarrassed by what happened.

"I told you it's okay," she tells you.

"Well… If you say so."

"And besides… It's not every day that I get to do it with a virgin," she winks as she lets out a soft laugh.

"Hey! I'm no virgin!" you protest, trying to defend your ego.

"Is that so?" she teases, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"I… I've experienced this before," you mutter.

"Sure, and that's why I got a mouthful," she chuckles, licking her lips.

"I was… I was holding out!" you retort.

"But of course," she laughs. "Just admit that you're a total virgin."

You're left speechless, unable to defend yourself. She just grins at you, clearly amused by your reaction. You want to say something, but she has you beat.

"Alright… Off to the next one!" she then exclaims, looking rather excited.

"Next one?"

"You didn't think I was just gonna leave you like this, did you? We're just getting started," she winks, giving your dick a squeeze.

"Wait, what?"

"That was just the warm-up. I have a lot of other things planned for us."

"Like what?"

"Let's just say this is gonna be the night of your life. And by the time the sun rises, you'll be thanking me,"

"I'm not so sure about this…"

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing," she reassures you, flashing you a devious smile.

She lets go of your dick. You feel relieved that her tight grip is no longer on your throbbing cock, but also a bit disappointed at the loss of her warm touch. She then takes off her clothes, exposing her voluptuous body. Her breasts are barely covered by an orange lace bra, and her hips are accentuated by a matching thong. You gulp as you take in the sight, and you can feel your dick getting even harder.

"What's wrong? Getting nervous?" she asks, giggling.

"Uh, yeah. This is really sudden. I'm not sure what's going on," you admit, unable to look away from her gorgeous body.

"Come on, it's nothing you can't handle. Just enjoy it," she says, grabbing your hand and placing it on her waist.

You can't deny the electricity that runs through your body the moment her skin makes contact with yours. Her body is so soft and warm, and it feels so good to touch her. It's intoxicating at the least, and you can't help but be swept up by the moment.

"Now, I'll let you have a taste of my body. You better make the most of it," she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear.

You let out a soft moan, the sensation driving you wild.

"So? What are you waiting for?"

"I…"

"It's okay. You can touch me," she assures you, guiding your hands towards her breasts.

"But, Noona…"

"Touch me more."

You hesitate for a moment, but she urges you on, and you give in.

Your fingers trace the outline of her bra, feeling her erect nipples through the fabric. As if by instinct, you gently squeeze her breasts, eliciting a moan from her.

"Mmmh… That's it. More," she purrs, arching her back.

Your heart races as her breasts push against your palms, her nipples rubbing against the thin material of her bra. The friction feels incredible, and the pleasure drives you crazy. You're not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you don't want it to end.

"You're so cute. You look like you're enjoying this," she teases, smiling.

Guilty as charged.

"Just relax. I'll take care of everything."

She then presses her lips against yours, her tongue pushing past your lips. Your tongues dance, and you savor her sweet taste. She then nibbles on your lower lip, and you can't help but moan.

"Nggh! Noona, wait," you breathe out, pulling away from her.

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

"I… I think this is too fast."

She giggles. "Awh. Poor thing."

She then cups your face with her hand and kisses you again, a much slower, passionate kiss this time. You feel her smile against your lips, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It feels so good, so addicting. Yet you don't want to admit it.

"Taeyeon-noona, I…"

"Do you want to take it slow?"

You only gave her a nod.

"There. Just tell me what you want."

She then reaches back and unhooks her bra, tossing it to the side. Her bare breasts glisten under the dim lighting, and you can't help but stare in awe.

"There. I hope this evens us out," she smirks. You can see her cheeks blushing as she puts her magnificent assets on full display.

"Y-you don't have to, y'know? I'm fine with—"

Before you can utter another word, she pulls you towards her, pressing your face against her plump, supple breasts. Muffled, you try to push back, but she holds you firmly against her, not letting go. The warmth of her skin and the softness of her breasts overwhelm your senses, slowly melting your hesitations away.

Before you know it, you feel your hands explore the rest of her exposed body, gliding across everything you can reach.

She can't help but laugh and moan simultaneously as you explore her body.

"Getting braver, aren’t we?"

You choose not to answer and instead let your actions speak for you.

Taeyeon's skin feels so soft and smooth, and it's a wonder to touch. You can't help but want to touch her even more, to explore every inch of her. You suck on her erect nipples, and her breath hitches, letting out a soft moan.

"That's it. Take it all in," she whispers, running her fingers through your hair.

Your heart races as her scent fills your nose, and it's driving you crazy. You can't help but want more, and you feel yourself getting lost in the moment.

"Taeyeon-noona…"

"Shhhh… Don't say a word. Just enjoy it," she replies, her voice low and seductive.

Obliging, you continue to taste her, relishing in the sweet, salty taste of her skin. Your hands travel across her body, touching every inch of her. She bites her lip and arches her back as you trace the curve of her spine, and her breathing quickens as you explore her thighs.

"Oh, fuck…" she breathes out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands then find their way to her butt, and you squeeze her cheeks, feeling the soft, firm flesh in your hands. She looks at you with lustful eyes, and you can see the desire written all over her face.

"Oh, my… You're getting good at this," she purrs, smiling seductively.

You blush slightly, her compliment clearly lifting your confidence. You shoot a smile back at her, fueled with confidence and hunger for more. She smirks at your newfound boldness, welcoming your hunger with equal enthusiasm.

Your lips lock with hers for another round of torrid passion, the heat between your bodies intensifying with each passing second. Your tongues dance in a fiery tango, exploring every crevice and making each other elicit a fervent moan. Neither of you is backing down, eager to win over the other as if your earlier spar wasn't enough.

"Noona, you're… Amazing," you manage to gasp between heated kisses, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

She smirks. "You're no slouch either."

"But, you… I…"

"Mhhh… Don't stop now," Taeyeon whispers, her voice dripping with need.

"But let me just…" you struggle to remove your shirt despite the urgency of the moment.

With her expert guidance, you quickly shed your shirt and throw it aside, giving your partner an unobstructed view of your bare chest.

"There we go. Better?"

"Yeah. You were on top of me so I had trouble taking it off." you jest, a playful smirk spreading across your face.

She then chuckles, hitting you playfully on the shoulder.

"And you blame me for that?"

"Why not? You keep on pushing me down."

"Jeez… I'm not that heavy, you know?"

"I know, I know. You're just so aggressive," you tease, running your fingers through her skin.

Taeyeon coos at your touch, her body pulsating with desire.

"Hmmm? Is that your way of flirting with me?"

You shrug. "Well… It's worth a shot."

She replies with a soft chuckle.

"Consider it a successful shot," she breathes, her voice laced with lust.

You blush, feeling a surge of pride at having successfully aroused Taeyeon.

"Well… Thank you."

"Then let's get back to it, shall we?" She purrs, her hands eagerly tracing the contours of your chest all the way to your abdomen. You shiver at her touch, goosebumps appearing on your skin.

She then looks at you with an inviting gaze, and her lips curl into a sly grin. You can't help but stare in awe, mesmerized by her beauty.

"W-what? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, silly," she giggles. "I want you to touch me, too."

"Oh. Right."

"I can't be the only one enjoying this, y'know?"

"My bad, noona."

You resume your passionate makeout session. The two of you moan against each other's lips, exploring each other's bodies. The two of you are so lost in the moment that the world around you begins to fade, and all that matters is the heat, the electricity, the passion.

"Fuck. You taste so good," Taeyeon moans, her voice dripping with lust.

"Mmmh… You do too. Fuck," you reply, the heat and desire growing within you.

"But seriously…"

"Hmmm?"

"Learn to get a hint," she giggles.

"Heh. Sorry," you mumble, trying to regain control. "I was kinda lost."

"Understandable," she snickers. "It's your first time, after all."

"H-hey. You're making me sound like a virgin."

"Well… You kinda are."

"Come on now…"

Taeyeon can't help but chuckle at your response, amused by your reaction.

"Fine. Let's not talk about that."

"I'm not that innocent, you know," you retort, pouting.

"Really, now?"

"Y-yeah. Really."

"So you wouldn't mind if we take things further… Right?"

You gulp, suddenly aware of what she means.

"Well… I guess?"

"Good."

She then reaches down and slowly pulls down her panties. You just realize how wet she is as you stare in awe. She then grabs your hand and leads it to her core. You hesitate for a moment, but she guides you, urging you to take things further.

"It's okay. You can touch me."

You gently cup her mound, feeling the slickness of her wet folds. Her pussy is hot, and her juices flow freely. She shudders as your fingers brush against her sensitive bud, and her body tenses up.

"Yes… That's it!" she moans, biting her lip.

"Is this it? Are you sure?"

"Mhmm… Just go ahead."

Your fingers explore her core, and you find her swollen clit. You rub her bundle of nerves in a circular motion, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

"Oh, fuck! That feels so good."

"Are you sure? Am I doing it right?"

"Yes! Just keep going," she moans, her voice barely above a whisper.

You increase the pace, applying a bit more pressure. She writhes under your touch, her body trembling with pleasure.

"F-fuck… Y-yes!" she moans, her voice shaking.

The heat is building within you, and you can't hold back any longer. You decide to switch positions, with Taeyeon now resting her body on the bench. At this view, she looks so small, so inviting. You proceed to kiss her thighs as your hand continues its assault.

"Mmmh! Oh shit! Yes! Keep going!"

You then kiss her core, licking her wet folds. She shrieks, her voice ringing in your ears. She grabs a fistful of your hair, holding on for dear life. You then lick her clit, eliciting a loud moan from her. She can't hold on much longer, her body writhing in ecstasy.

"Fuck! You're so good! I'm… I'm close!"

You can't help but be proud, and you redouble your efforts, sucking on her clit. She arches her back, and she screams, her orgasm tearing through her body.

"I'm gonna cum! Shit! I'm gonna fucking—aghh!"

You watch as her body spasms, and her legs quiver. She rides out her orgasm, her body trembling with each wave of pleasure. She finally collapses, panting, her body slick with sweat.

"Holy shit. That was… Amazing," she breathes, her voice shaky.

"Did… Did I do good?"

"Of course, you did. Not bad for a first-timer."

"Well… Thanks."

"Now, let me return the favor," she says, a smirk spreading across her face.

"What do you mean?"

"It's your turn now," she says, licking her lips.

"B-but I already—"

She interrupts, putting a finger against your lips.

"I know you have some left in you" Her hands move down towards your privates, massaging every bit of it. "And besides…"

She then leans over and whispers to your ear, her voice seductive.

"I'm still not satisfied."

As if on cue, you can feel your member throbbing in response, as if beckoning her to touch you even more.

"Looks like someone's ready for more," she giggles.

"Hey… I'm just sensitive," you protest, looking at her with your best puppy-dog eyes.

Taeyeon lets out a laugh, seemingly caught off-guard by your adorable attempt at innocence.

"Oh, cut that out. That doesn't suit you in the slightest," she playfully retorts.

"I just thought I'd give it a try," you reply, looking disappointed.

"Don't you ever do that again, alright?"

"Why not?"

She then pulls you closer. You can see the sheer desire in her eyes burning through her gaze. She seems to want more from you than just a casual encounter.

"I don't want cute and innocent from you."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to be as fierce as you were earlier," she whispers, her tone low and seductive.

"As you wish, Miss Winner," you say, a cheeky grin spreading across your face.

"Show me what you got," she says, her tone challenging.

Without a moment's hesitation, you crash your lips against hers for yet another round, kissing her passionately. She reciprocates, and her hands grip your body, her nails digging into your skin. It hurts, but the pain is drowned out by the intense pleasure.

You break the kiss and attack her neck, nibbling on her soft flesh. She moans, and her hands wrap around your back, pulling you closer. You continue your assault, and she writhes underneath you, her breathing ragged.

"Ooh, shit! Yes! That's it!" she gasps, her voice cracking.

You continue your trail down her body, planting soft kisses along her collarbone. She whimpers, and her hands run through your hair, encouraging you to keep going. You then move further south, planting a soft kiss on her chest, right between her breasts.

"Yes… Yes! Please, keep going," she whispers, her voice breathy and needy.

You then plant another kiss on her left breast, followed by a soft bite on her nipple, making her whimper.

"Ahh shit!" she groans, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No… Please don't," she pleads, her voice dripping with need.

"Well then," you say, kissing her other breast, biting her nipple.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Like that?"

"Yes! I like that!"

"What about this?"

You move further south, trailing kisses down her belly. She moans as your lips caress her skin, her body writhing with pleasure. You then reach her thighs, and you give them a soft kiss.

"Yes! Oh, god!" she moans, her body trembling.

You then spread her legs apart, exposing her pink pussy, glistening with her juices.

"Oh, fuck. Look at you," you marvel, staring at her womanhood.

"I know. It's fucking amazing," she says, a satisfied smile on her face.

You then move closer, and your tongue finds her slit. You slowly drag your tongue along her wet folds, eliciting a moan from her. She throws her head back, her eyes closed, as she relishes in the sensation.

"Shit! There it goes again! That fucking tongue!"

"Do you want me to stop?"

She opens her eyes, staring right at you.

"No! Don't you fucking dare!"

"Alright," you chuckle, continuing your assault.

You lap at her wet folds, lapping up her juices. You savor her sweet, musky taste, and it makes you feel drunk.

"Ooh, shit! That's the spot," she gasps, her hands gripping the back of your head.

You continue your assault, licking her clit and teasing her wet entrance. Her body trembles and her moans get louder.

"Ooh, fuck! I'm getting close," she pants, her voice shaky.

You intensify your assault, sucking on her clit while inserting two fingers inside her.

"Are you gonna cum?" you ask, staring right into her eyes.

"I'm… I'm close," she whimpers, her voice barely audible.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes… Yes! I want to cum!" she gasps, her hips bucking.

As her screams go a few pitches higher, you let go of her. Taeyeon is left hanging, her body shaking with frustration.

"Huh? W-what the fuck?"

"I don't want you to cum yet," you explain.

"But I was so close, you fuck! You could've—"

You withdraw fully from assaulting her core, only to show her your own erection standing at full attention.

"I could've just let you cum…"

You position your shaft against her pussy, brushing her entrance.

"But I want to do it…"

You rub your shaft against her wet slit, making her groan.

"When I'm inside you."

"Oh f-fuck," she bites her lip, anticipating your next move.

"This is what you wanted all along, right?"

You press your tip against her entrance, and her eyes widen.

"Yes. You finally get—ooh!"

You continue to tease her, rubbing your cock against her entrance.

"Then, shall I?"

"Yes. I want you to—agh fuck!"

"Tell me how much you want it."

"I… I want it! I want you to fuck me!"

You continue to tease her, pushing the tip of your cock into her, making her moan.

"I don't think you're sincere, noona," you tease, pushing your cock further into her.

"Fuck you! Stop teasing me and start fucking me, you asshole!" she cries out in desperation.

"Then tell it to me like you mean it," you tell her, tapping her entrance with your length.

Her hips then shake as if begging for something. Her breathing is heavy, and her eyes are filled with lust and need.

"Please… I need it," she whimpers, her voice shaking and full of need.

"Then say it, Taeyeon."

She grits her teeth, and her eyes glaring at you, filled with both anger and frustration.

"Fuck me, alright? Fuck me like you mean it! I want you to fill me up and make me cum! Make me scream! Make me fucking lose my mind! I need it! I need your fucking dick inside me! Right. Fucking. Now!"

Without warning, you push your cock into her, eliciting a cry of both pain and pleasure from her.

"You mean like this?"

"Ah! Ahh fuck!"

You slam your cock into her, and she moans, her body shuddering.

"Enjoying this, aren't you, noona?"

"Fuck… I'm really gonna cum!"

Her back arches and her hands grip the bench. You continue to fuck her, and her moans get louder. You can feel her pussy tightening around your cock, and her body trembles.

"Shit! Shit! I'm cumming—ahh!"

Taeyeon screams, her body quaking in pleasure as her orgasm rocks through her body. Excess fluids gush from her core, coating your shaft and dribbling onto the bench, until it creates a small puddle underneath. You can't help but smile as you watch her, her expression filled with pure ecstasy.

She then falls limp, her body relaxing as her orgasm subsides. She looks at you, a satisfied smile on her face.

"How was it, noona? Was it good?"

"That was… Incredible," she manages to say, her voice still shaky.

"I'm glad I was able to satisfy you," you chuckle, pulling her into an embrace.

"Yeah… You did good for a newbie," she smirks, chuckling.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. But you still have a lot to—ooh!"

You slam your cock into her, catching her by surprise.

"You say that but…"

You thrust in and out, and her eyes widen.

"Looks like you're losing your mind…"

"Oh fuck."

"To a virgin," you slam your cock deep inside her, her body shaking.

"Ahh! This fucking cock! Ahh!"

"So, tell me… What was that you said again?"

You pound her relentlessly, and her moans get louder. Her body shakes, and her breathing is ragged. For a stick-up mentor and tennis partner, she sure is enjoying her role reversal.

"I… I can't… Fuck! Oh, shit!"

"Pretty please?" you ask, slowing down the pace of your thrusts.

"N-no! No! Please don't slow down!" she pleads, her voice trembling.

"Then say it."

"Oh fuck you—ahh! I can't take it anymore!"

"I can do this all day."

"Agh! You asshole!"

You slam into her, and she screams, her body convulsing.

"Fuck! Not that spot!"

"Say it, Taeyeon. Say it."

With her face painted red in anger and embarrassment, she gives in.

"F-fine. Fine! You… I love your fucking cock! Your fucking virgin cock!" she screams at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing through the court.

"That's it. Let everyone hear you."

"Oh, fuck. I fucking love you," she moans, her voice dripping with need.

Her last few words catch you off-guard, but the sight of her drunk-hazed face and her pleasured moans make you forget it almost immediately.

"Then I'm yours."

You slam into her once more, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. With arms around your back, she pulls you in as she incoherently screams into your ear. Taeyeon has finally lost her mind, and you love to see it.

"Oh fuhg… It'sh sho gud!"

"What is good, huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock… Your cock ish sho gud," she whimpers, her body spasming.

"And how does my cock feel inside you?"

"Sho big… It'sh filling my pusshy sho mush!"

"And whose is it?"

"Yoursh! All yours! My pusshy ish yoursh!"

"I can't quite hear you, noona."

"Your pusshy! It'sh all yoursh!"

"Good. Keep telling me. I love to hear it."

"Aahhh… Y-your cock… Fuck me more!"

You fuck her senseless, and her body writhes in pleasure. She continues to babble nonsense, her mind gone blank from the pleasure. You continue to slam into her, her tight cunt sucking in your shaft. You can feel her walls clenching, her pussy desperate to milk your cock.

"Taeyeon-noona, fuck… You feel so good."

"Aah! More! Give me more!"

"You want more? How about this?"

You then pick her up and fuck her as she's suspended in the air. Her eyes widen, and her mouth is agape.

"Oh fuhk… No. No!

She screams, and her legs wrap around your waist. You hold onto her tight, and your pace quickens.

"Oh, shit! You're sho deep!"

"You like that, huh?"

"Ahh… Y-yesh… More… Harder!"

"As you wish, noona."

You increase your pace, slamming into her faster and harder. With her light, small frame, you can go deeper than before, as if it's nothing. Or maybe all that rigorous training is finally paying off.

"Oh fuck! Fuck!"

"You like that, huh?"

"Y-yesh… I like it…"

"Good. Now, let me give you a reward."

You thrust faster and deeper, and her moans get louder. And as you do, you can feel your balls churn, the pressure building within them.

"Oh, fuck. Taeyeon-noona, I'm going to cum soon," you warn her, feeling the sensation rising.

"Yesh… Ghiv me your cum!"

"Are you sure? Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Yesh! Let me have it!"

"Alright then."

You amp up the pace as you reach your climax, and your thrusts get harder and faster. Her body is shaking, and her voice cracks as she moans uncontrollably.

"Oh fuhk! Here it cumsh!"

You slam into her one last time, burying your cock deep inside her. With a loud moan, you erupt, unloading a torrent of hot, thick cum. She screams, her voice ringing through the court, as your load fills her up, flooding her womb with seed. She clenches her eyes shut, and her hands grip your shoulders, holding on for dear life.

"Shit, noona… I can't stop!"

"Jush giv it all to me!"

You keep pouring into her, not stopping for a moment. Her body shakes, and her pussy tightens, squeezing out every last drop. You feel like you're being squeezed dry. Painful, yes, but you can't help but moan at the overwhelming pleasure.

"Oh fuck… I think I'm done…" you finally gasp, your thrusts slowing down.

"Ahh… So mush cum…" she sighs, her voice breathy and sultry.

You pull out of her, and her eyes are unfocused. A deluge of white ooze seeps out of her pink hole, a mixture of your fluids and hers. You can't believe the amount you have ejected, and neither can Taeyeon, as it creates a larger puddle on the ground.

"Holy shit," she gasps, her glazed eyes widening with disbelief.

"Fuck… I think I went overboard," you tell her, watching your semen flow out of her.

"You let out… So much…" she breathes, her weak body barely holding her upright.

"Well, I couldn't control myself. Not with you."

"Hahh… Thanks," she smiles, a hint of pride in her tone.

You both catch your breaths, the smell of sex hanging heavily in the air. Your body tells you that you've exhausted your reserves, and maybe so did Taeyeon's. But the sight and sound of your previous actions still linger in your head and your desire for more remains.

"Say… Noona…"

"Yeah."

Your shaft slowly stands back up, throbbing at her entrance and eager to continue. She lets out a soft gasp as she notices your eagerness. You can see the hesitation in her eyes, fueling your hunger even more.

"Can we?"

"You're restless today, aren't you?" she giggles.

"Can't help it," you grin, rubbing your length against her slit.

"Fuck… That feels so good," she moans, closing her eyes.

"So? Can we?"

"Hmmm… Alright. I guess one more time wouldn't hurt."

"Thank you," you tell her, a big grin forming on your face.

"So, what do you want to—whoa!"

Before she could finish, you swiftly lowered her to the ground and spread her legs apart. You position yourself in front of her, your shaft poised and ready. She looks at your erection, her face flushing a shade of red.

"Fuck… Here we go again," she sighs, anticipation in her eyes.

You then guide your shaft into her, and she whimpers, her pussy swallowing you whole.

"Urgh! You're so fucking tight, noona!"

"More like you're too fucking big," she grunts, her walls straining to accommodate your girth.

"And you're loving it," you reply, smiling sheepishly.

"Mhmm…" she nods, biting her lip.

"That's what I like to hear," you smirk, and without warning, start thrusting.

"Ahh! Oh shit! Fuck me harder!"

You comply, slamming your cock into her at a rapid pace. Her voice echoes through the court, a melody that fills you with immense satisfaction. The sound of her skin slapping against yours only adds to the pleasure, and you find yourself thrusting even harder.

"Fuck… Yes… Harder! Fucking pound my pussy!"

You slam into her faster, harder, and deeper. Her body writhes with pleasure, her hips bucking and her legs quivering. She can't help but wrap her arms around you, her hands digging into your skin. Her legs also have you locked in, the intensity of her hold surprising.

"Shit, Taeyeon-noona… You're so good," you groan, relishing the tightness of her pussy.

"Yes! Fuck! Right there! Keep fucking me like that!" she cries, her voice cracking.

"Here? Like this?"

You hit a spot inside her, and her body jolts.

"Aghh! Yes! There! Right fucking there!"

"You like that?"

"Yes! Fuck! I fucking love it!"

You continue to slam into her, wild like a beast in heat, hitting the same spot over and over again. She can't stop screaming, her voice cracking and her body shuddering with pleasure. and her pussy clenches around you, tightening even more. You can't help but let out a groan, the sensation driving you mad. You feel her orgasm coming, and you're not far behind.

"Shit… Noona, I'm gonna cum again!"

"Me too… Me too!"

"Hrgh! Here it goes! Take it all!"

"Yes! Cum with me! Cum inside me! Fill me up with your fucking cum!"

You feel the pressure rising, and you can't hold it any longer. You ram your cock deep into her, and with one last thrust, you let out a primal roar, releasing a torrent of hot cum into her. She screams, her voice ringing through the court as your thick load fills her up once again.

She cums right after, her pussy convulsing around your cock, unleashing a flood of her own juices. As if a dam had been burst, her fluids flowed freely, gushing out of her pussy and coating your cock. It's as if you're drowning, the intensity is overwhelming.

"Oh fukh! There'sh sho mush!"

"Taeyeon… You're so… Tight!" you gasp, your cock trapped by her pussy.

Not that you can, nor that you could. Your hips continue to buck, the pleasure almost unbearable. It's as if her cunt is trying to squeeze every last drop out of you, and it's succeeding. You keep pouring into her, filling her womb up to the brim.

"Ahh! It'sh not shtopping! Your cum ish sho mush!"

As your thrusts come to a halt, you slam your cock one last time, burying yourself deep inside her. Excess fluid squirts out of her, adding to the already impressive puddle underneath you. You can feel her pussy milking your shaft, squeezing out the last drop of cum.

After what seems like an eternity, your orgasm subsides, and you slowly pull out of her, your cock still oozing with cum. She sighs, and a copious amount of white liquid drips from her entrance. A mixture of both your cum and hers. After your earlier outburst, you can't believe how much you manage to let out, and neither could she.

"Fughk… Sho mush…" she pants, her eyes glassy.

"Noona… That was intense," you tell her, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuhk. Yes… I feel sho dihzzy."

You can't help but chuckle at her expression, her face flushed with exhaustion.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah… I guesh," she mumbles, a sleepy smile spreading across her face.

You then carry her as you sit on the bench, her exhausted body resting against yours. With her remaining strength, she slowly wraps her arms around your back, pulling herself closer. You reciprocate, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"Ow, ow!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"You're hugging me too hard!"

"Oh. Sorry. I went overboard, noona."

"Heh. Don't be," she laughs, nuzzling against you.

The two of you spend some time recovering from your intense session, the cool breeze a nice reprieve from the sweltering. She then looks up at you, her eyes full of desire.

"What? Do you want more?" you ask.

"No, I'm tired… Just hold me, okay?"

"If you say so," you chuckle, giving her a soft peck on the forehead.

She giggles, snuggling against you.

"We were kinda loud, weren't we?"

"Maybe."

"Do you think someone saw us?"

"I hope not," you chuckle, rubbing her shoulders.

"I do!"

From somewhere on the bleachers, a man's voice suddenly blurts out, emerges, the sound of his shoes echoing through the court. Your heart sinks as the two of you search for the source, finding a man sitting on the bleachers.

"Oh shit. There was someone," you gasp, your face flushing with embarrassment.

"Sorry for not telling you two," the stranger, wearing what might me a janitor's uniform, apologizes, looking rather bashful.

"How long were you there?" Taeyeon asks, yelling, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

"I heard screaming and moaning, so I went to check it out. And there I saw the two of you going at it."

"And you didn't stop us?" she retorts.

"Why would I? You lovebirds seem to be enjoying it," the stranger says, his tone nonchalant.

You and Taeyeon then exchanged glances, your faces blushing red.

"And besides…"

The two of you look back at the stranger.

"Security here doesn't give a shit during these hours."

"Really? Do they not monitor the cameras?"

"They do."

You both shudder at his response.

"But they'd rather get some shut-eye than deal with any after-hours shenanigans," he answers, chuckling at his own statement.

"So… Do they not care about what happens here?"

"Are you crazy? We've seen enough of that stuff already! It's common during these hours."

The stranger's words echoed in your ears, leaving you both stunned and relieved by the realization that your bold escapade wasn't as discreet as you

"Heh. I guess I did pick the right time---ow!"

Taeyeon suddenly hits you in between your playful comment with a playful yet embarrassed smirk on her face.

"You sonovabitch! You let people watch us? In public, of all places? I hate you!"

"Hey! Hey! It was your idea to have some fun in public," you protest, rubbing your arm where she hit you.

"But you made the reservation! You sneaky fuck… You probably knew about this!"

She continues to scold you, her words laced with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. For such a soft punch, they sure are quite painful.

"No, I swear! I didn't know anyone would be here!"

"I swear, the next time you have your way with me, I will…"

"Hey. Don't blame me! You pulled me in on this!"

"Why you…"

"Before you lovers continue to be all playful and whatnot…" the janitor interrupts, "You might want to pack things up."

"Huh?" the two of you ask in unison.

He then points towards the sky as the dawning sun begins to peek over the horizon. You quickly check the time on your phone and realize that the time you reserved for your outdoor rendezvous is nearly up. With your exhausted bodies and flushed faces, you hurriedly gather your belongings, discarded clothes and all, trying your best to fix yourselves as fast and as composed as possible.

"What about the mess?" Taeyeon suddenly blurts out, her cheeks still flushed from the recent activities.

"What mess?" you ask, your focus shifting between the looming sunrise and Taeyeon's concerned expression.

"This mess!" She gestures towards the puddles of sweat and other bodily fluids that soak the bench and the concrete ground beneath it.

You exchange a panicked glance, realizing the evidence of your passionate encounter is scattered for all to see.

"What are we gonna do with this?" she exclaims, worry evident in her voice.

"Fuck… Uhh, shit! Gimme a sec…"

You quickly think of ways to resolve the situation.

"Hey! Don't worry about that," the janitor calls out, waving his hand dismissively.

"What? You're gonna clean all this?" you ask, a mix of relief and surprise in your voice.

"Uhh… Yeah! That's my job," he chuckles.

"Well… Thank you, sir!" you yell, waving your hand at him.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" Taeyeon cries out, her voice ringing with relief. She then pulls your arm, nudging you to leave the scene with her. "We have to go!"

You and Taeyeon then rush towards the exit, your hearts pounding with a mix of exhilaration and nervousness. From what was initially a harmless tennis practice session, things took an unexpectedly erotic turn, allowing you and your partner to unleash all your pent-up desires in a frisky and uninhibited display of passion. Fucking on a public tennis court was definitely not part of the plan, but it was an experience neither of you would soon forget.

"Ugh… Walking without underwear is the worst," you groan as you and Taeyeon hurriedly walk outside of the building, your exhausted dick swaying freely beneath your shorts.

"You think? I haven't even put anything underneath in a hurry!" she replies, frustration lacing her voice. Her breasts bounce under her clothes with each hurried step. "Hngh… I can feel some of your cum dripping down my thighs."

"It does?" you ask, shocked and curious, leaning in to inspect her arousing situation. "Lemme see…"

She then prepares to swing her arm to hit you. Her face furious yet blushing.

"Don't you even dare!"

"Alright, alright. My bad," you chuckle, raising your hands in surrender.

As the sight of the parking lot comes into view, the two of you sprint towards your car, not minding of anything else around. You quickly open the passenger door for Taeyeon, and she jumps in eagerly. You then jump into the driver's seat, heart pounding with nervousness and you start the engine and leave the place for good.

"Right," you breathe out as you adjust yourself in your seat.

"Let's go to my place," she tells you.

"Well, duh. Of course I'll drop you at your place, noona. Where else would I even…"

"No."

"Huh? What do you mean ‘no’?"

"I mean, you're all sweaty and whatnot, so…"

Twiddling with her hair, Taeyeon then looks at you with a coy expression on her face.

"If you want… You can take a shower at my place. I wouldn’t mind.”

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Author’s Notes:

And that's another SNSD member written down! I'm halfway there... Maybe. I really can't imagine her other than the "Noona You'd Like to Date" and with my renewed interest over the "Prince of Tennis" series, I thought I'd give this idea a shot. I don't know much about tennis tho... So I hope I did a decent job at least. 🙏

Also... Some of you may not know this, but a few hours from now is my Queen Taeyeon's birthday! Going 35 and still one of the hottest idols in the industry. God-fucking-damn. 🥵

I have more stories lined up (and waiting to be written by yours truly OMFG I hate myself) and I'm very eager to share them to everyone. The "Spotlight" series is still. Don't worry. I didn't forget about it and hopefully I don't. I just thought of making stories of other idols in between to break it up a bit.

Once again, thank you to @capslocked and @sparkynsfws for your help in polishing this story, as well as to @braaan for yet another fire poster. Thank you so much! 🤗

Thank you for reading! 🙇

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 6

Part 5

Most of the time, being the son of Batman was a point of pride for Damian. Today, it was an exercise in frustration. Not only had Father deemed him too emotionally compromised to participate in the investigation of his so-called brother. Not only was he benched from patrol until Batman returned from abroad. He also had to continue attending school as if nothing had happened! He could probably teach most of the classes better than the adults! Oh, but ‘socializing with his peers’ was deemed too important to miss out on.

No wonder Damian was in a foul mood when he returned home. It had been the last school day before fall break, and a week ago he had been looking forward to the opportunity to patrol without having to worry about getting up early in the morning. Then that damned apparition had dropped the bombshell that had upended all of Damian’s carefully laid plans. Now half of the family was off chasing leads and he was stuck at home cooling his heels. It wasn’t fair!

After doing his customary check on his pets, he had changed into training gear as soon as possible and was now in the process of running through the latest combat program Father had designed. The flow of dodge-weave-counter-strike was helping him vent his frustration and clear his head. And if the training bots ended up more damaged than usual, well that just served Father right. He wasn’t some hapless child to be grounded!

Spin. Strike. Jump. Slash. He was moving on instinct, letting his training take over. A symphony of violence the background track to his churning thoughts, the questions that had been plaguing him all week.

Brother of blood. What did that mean? A full brother? A half brother? The result of some ill-advised dalliance of his Father? Unlikely. The letter had been addressed to Damian Al Ghul, not Damian Wayne. A deliberate choice of words, most likely. A child of his Mother then. He couldn’t imagine Mother would sully herself with another man’s touch. Even after everything, she still loved Father in her own twisted way. Unless Grandfather had ordered her… Stop it!

Stab. Crouch. Roll. Slice.

Never buried but already mourned. Not a lab grown creation then, to be discarded casually. Mourning meant caring. Love. Did Father know something? The haunted look that had appeared in his eyes spoke of old grief. The same grief that still plagued him when memories of Todd or Damian’s death were close to the surface. But he had never spoken of another child. Would he even bother to tell them?

Strike. Throw. Close distance. Disarm.

Lightning and ice. Defibrillation? Some horror movie style reanimation? Cryofreeze? The entity had meta abilities, could it harness lightning and ice as well? A better son, a more powerful Demon’s Heir… No!

Side-step. Kick. Twist. Leg-sweep.

Strike down the Demon’s Head. Did that mean Grandfather? Or Damian himself if the old man died first? It would be just like Grandfather to arrange for Damian to be killed and replaced by a brother. To get revenge for Damian choosing Batman’s legacy over the League’s while hurting their family in the most intimate way possible. Killed by a brother he should have loved, who should have loved him… Fool!

Damian stopped as the gong sounded to mark the end of the program. Around him, the training bots returned to their starting positions, now significantly worse for wear. A few of them were disabled to the point of uselessness.

Damian sheathed his weapons and forced his breathing to slow as he started his cool down stretches. It wouldn’t do to be careless because of some emotional episode. He was more disciplined than that.

What could Death earn anyway? Death brought nothing but nightmares and pain and torment.

Damian shivered. He didn’t like thinking about his Death.

Shoving the memories firmly aside, he returned his training weapons to their respective places before heading over to the Batcomputer. He needed a distraction. Maybe he should call up Jon and see if he had any plans for fall break. Since Damian was benched he would need something constructive to do with his time. Surely with the two of them working together they would find some kind of criminal enterprise to topple in a Kansas cornfield.

Damian compiled the search strings for any unusual activity in the area and set it to run. Now it was a waiting game to see if anything of note turned up. Leaning back, he idly kicked the console, sending his chair into a lazy spin. If nothing turned up in Kansas, maybe he would widen his search to the surrounding states. If they flew Air Superboy, distance would hardly be an issue. Hell, if Jon was busy maybe he could go visit Richard. Bludhaven was never lacking in crime, and Father wouldn’t be able to complain about a lack of appropriate supervision during patrol. With Drake and Todd having left on a ‘roadtrip’ for at least a day…

Damian stopped his spinning and frowned. Now that he thought about it, it was highly unusual for his two older brothers to have left Gotham together and in their civilian identities. Especially with the Bats already shorthanded due to Father’s absence and Robin’s benching. He had been too distracted by the upcoming school day to make the connection when his brothers had mentioned their plans at breakfast that morning. And Drake had been investigating League activity… Damian’s fingers flew across the keyboard, bypassing Drake’s security protocols with ease. If his brother had uncovered a League connection he had a right to know!

What he found among Drake’s recent search history was not what he expected. Some crackpot scientists from Illinois? That’s what had drawn his attention? Certainly, the older Robin had flagged some suspicious transactions and marked the Fentons as potential threats based on their inventions, but there were heroes closer to Amity Park that they could have foisted the investigation off on.

Damian drummed his fingers against his armrest. Something wasn’t adding up here. Pulling up everything he could find about the Fenton parents, he started looking through medical records, school records, articles… Suddenly, Damian’s heart slammed against his ribs. There, on the cover of a two year old magazine, was the face that had haunted him all week. With trembling fingers, he zoomed in on the image. It only took a few minutes to alter the hair and eye colour. It was unmistakably him. The boy who bore an uncanny resemblance to Damian himself, if slightly older and paler.

Swallowing hard, Damian scrolled through the magazine’s online archive to find the article mentioned on the title page. An almost extinct gorilla species. A chance discovery by then fourteen year old Daniel Fenton.

“Daniel,” Damian rolled the name around his mouth. A fairly common Western name. “Daniel. Danyal?” If he was Talia’s son, surely she would have used the Arabic version… no! He was jumping to conclusions!

Now having a name to go on, Damian dug deeper than Drake had bothered to. The birth certificate named a small town in Utah, but there were no records of a hospital admission. A home birth? There were no records of the Fentons having a residence in that state. No medical records of prenatal care either, though there were for the birth of the older sibling. Had the pregnancy gone unnoticed? Possible, if unlikely. There had been a vehicle registration for a motorhome during that time period though. Had the Fentons been living on the road when their son was born? Or had they acquired the child some other way? If he was an Al Ghul who would have spirited him away to the USA?

The Fentons had settled down in Amity Park about six months after Daniel’s birth, purchasing the residence they apparently used to this day. From there, his records were fairly standard and unremarkable, though there were a higher than average number of doctor’s visits for minor household accidents. Not enough to get flagged by CPS, but certainly worrying if potential mad science was involved. Daniel’s school records showed average grades, with higher scores in Maths and Science. At age fourteen however, his academic performance took a sharp dip, with an uneven performance on tests and numerous unexcused absences. His teachers noted frequent inattentiveness in class or Daniel outright falling asleep. Someone had submitted reports of bullying and suspicious bruises, but the case was dropped and never followed up on. His grades had evened out since then, but the unexcused absences persisted.

Damian knew enough about the trials and tribulations of teenage superheroics to recognize a pattern. And it certainly looked like Daniel fit the bill. If he had acquired meta abilities two years ago it probably took some time to get a handle on them and find a balance between his legal and illegal activities.

Damian steepled his fingers together. There was only so much his digital investigation could reveal. It was time for some fieldwork.

Part 7

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | NO MORE HOCKEY PLAYERS!

REQUEST. : I think this might be too vague but can I request IceHockey!James x Reader angst with fluffy ending. I'm acc in love with the way you write him 🤍🤍 ⏤requested by anon

LENGTH : 1.9k

TAGS : modern au ; muggle au ; ice hockey player james potter ; enemies to lovers? but not really? ; enemies by association to lovers? ; protective james potter ; precious reader ; oc!andrew ; reader in a bad relationship ; james being the knight in shining hockey gear ; angst with fluff ending

WARNINGS : toxic relationship ; mentions of mistreatment in a relationship

You knew what was coming. It was something you were used to seeing, to dealing with in the two years you’ve been dating Andrew. As captain of the Ice Hockey team at Imperial College London and playing the Right-Wing Forward position, he was oftentimes compared to his more prominent, more celebrated counterpart, James Potter. 

James Potter was the Ice Hockey captain of his team at UCL and also played the Right-Wing Forward position. Through this similarity, they were often compared and Andrew was beyond irritated by the fact. Irritated and fed up. James never appeared to mind the comparisons, however. In fact, he took it in stride because, in his eyes, the results of a fair game will put the constant equating to rest. 

Andrew was passionate about the sport, he really was, his position as Captain was evidence of that dedication, however the constant comparisons in his ear made him highly aggressive on top of his already present anger issues. It wasn’t like this in the beginning, he was once very sweet and caring towards you, aware of your needs and was as much of a best friend as he was your boyfriend. Yes, you weren’t exempt from the occasional disagreement or shouting competition but it’s been so much worse as of late. 

Just a couple of months ago, he lost a game to James’ team and finally snapped to the point that he managed to make the usually grinning and charming James Potter flush red with anger and commenced a screaming match that inaugurated an infamous rivalry between the two. That one win against him was also the tipping point for all the whispers comparing the two to sharply peak in favour of James. Now, there was always an undertone of James being viewed as the better one of the two. More charismatic, more diligent, more empathetic, more resilient, more consistent, more respectable… more handsome. All of which fanned the flames of your boyfriend’s anger until it reached dangerous levels. 

The matches against them were, now, much more exhilarating but also much more aggressive. It frightened you the first time you saw them play against each other after that horrific encounter the previous game. This wasn’t a good display of sportsmanship. They were like two lions going after each other’s throats, pushing and shoving and colliding at top speeds, baring their teeth menacingly but neither side conceding defeat – they refused to surrender; one had to fall for the other to rise. It was horrifying to witness. You worried for Andrew but you also worried for James. They were both equal in brawn and stature so anything could happen to either side and they weren’t the least bit shy in making their belligerent intentions known. Bruises and sore limbs were expected from the sport but you feared that something more serious could be anticipated in the conflict between the two. 

Your heart was almost ready to burst out of your chest when each game began and ended. It didn’t help that you were a frequent witness to Andrew’s harsh criticism towards his own team. Due to his frustrations and boiling anger, he demanded more of himself and, by extension, demanded more of his teammates as well. Many times, you tried to remind him of the fact that he wasn’t going about disciplining or encouraging his team in the right way. A familiar confrontation once became a huge fight that his teammates had to get in the middle of, worried for you, who they had come to think of as part of their own and, vice versa. Gradually, his support from the team dwindled, which meant that, during his combative encounters with James in the rink, he was slowly being left on his own with no one to assist him. He was playing at a higher risk each game and it hurt you to watch. Your love might have dwindled during Andrew’s self-destructive tirade but that didn’t mean you didn’t care for his well-being. 

The result was inevitable. Owing to the lack of support from his own teammates and having to counter James’ antagonistic plays by himself, Andrew’s anger and jealousy grew and grew. It was a slap to the face when, at every re-match, his self-sabotaging behaviour led to James and his team’s victory. It was predictable, even for you, but you supported Andrew through it all. 

At the end of the match, Andrew sulked in the locker rooms while the rest of the team hurried away, disgruntled by their captain’s pathetic plays, selfish agenda and mistreatment towards them when pinning all the blame for their loss solely on their lack of collaboration when, truly, he was the only one to blame.

“It’ll be okay, Andy–” 

“Shut up!” his roaring shout bounced off the walls of the empty locker room. His voice echoed with mourning, betrayal and burning hot rage. It made your shoulders tense from the rising tension. 

“Andrew, the way you’re acting i-it isn’t right–!” you tried to reason with him despite his hulking form and much larger frame intimidating you. He didn’t even have to look into your eyes for a shiver to run down your spine; the slamming of his locker door, the throwing of his clothes and the reckless handling of his equipment was enough to make you flinch each time. 

“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TELL ME WHAT’S RIGHT OR WRONG!” he argues through clenched teeth, pushing the locker room doors open and letting it swing back, almost hitting you as you scurry up behind him. 

“Well, you should, at least, try!” In a moment of bravery, you puff out your chest and glare at him, your eyes shining with thinly disguised disappointment and fear. He wasn’t like the Andrew you knew at all… this horrible, violent person was nothing like the Andrew you fell in love with two years ago, “I know you can be a great captain but you’re running yourself and your own team into the ground! Learn to put your ego aside for once!” 

“WHY YOU!-- WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO LECTURE ME?!” his large hand raises and comes swinging down. It’s too late to react, you can only pinch your eyes closed and wait for the impact to come with clenched teeth. 

“WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO HIT HER?!” 

The hit never came. Instead, your eyes snap open to stare in shock at James Potter gripping the wrist of your boyfriend and pushing him away as he tucks you behind him. Too shocked at the situation and the sudden appearance of your boyfriend’s counterpart, you can’t help but just gape at the situation. 

No no no! This isn’t meant to happen! You should have left the argument in the locker room! 

“She’s my girlfriend! Dipshit!” Andrew snarls and tries to reach for you again but James steps in the way, blocking your view. He’s a solid mountain between you and your irate boyfriend. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. 

“That gives you even less of a right, not that you had any right to hit anyone to begin with,” James pants lightly, his heightened anger making him feel as though he’s run a mile, “If she’s your girl, you should treat her better! Acting like this after a loss is pathetic but pinning it onto your lady is disgusting!” James can handle rough play on the rink because he’s trained for it and he’s grown the thick skin to endure all kinds of impacts. But, when he sees violence like this outside the rink, it’s beyond infuriating, it makes him see red, it makes him want to throw all manner of good will out the window and go charging in like a stubborn bull.

“Fuck! Off!” Andrew shoves him away and grabs your upper arm, tugging you away without any regard for the force in his grip. It happened much too quickly that you couldn’t comprehend everything until you felt a stinging pain bloom in your arm under his grip. 

“Ow!… Andrew, stop, please! You’re hurting me!”

“I don’t care! Hurry! Up!” he gives another aggressive tug and you squeal from the pain, willing yourself to suppress it so as to not anger him further. But your cry of hurt was enough to set off an unbelievable chain reaction.

There was a dull but harsh THUMP as James’ clenched fist collides with Andrew’s face, sending him sprawling as two gentle hands come up to your shoulders and gently pull you away from the scene. Those same two hands turn you around and carefully move down to press against your lower back, acting as a guide to lead you a safe distance away. The girl introduces herself as Alice, the girlfriend of Frank, who was the goalie of the UCL team. She leads you with a sympathetic smile past the rest of the James’ teammates, who face forward and grit their teeth at what they were just the witnesses to, some even stepping forward. Whether they wanted to join in or not, you didn’t find out but one was tall with mousy brown hair and the other had dark black hair against pale paper skin and grey eyes – the left defence and the centre of the UCL team. 

“You’re okay…” Alice whispers softly, hurrying you along as the sound of punches begin to echo through the hallway, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” 

As tears slip past your lash line, a shaky whimper escapes your bitten lips and you accept her comfort with a small nod.

Suffice to say, you and Andrew broke up. And for good reason. Many people couldn’t even fathom that someone as soft-hearted and sweet as you would ever give someone like Andrew the time of day when you deserved so much more. What they don’t understand is that he was never like that when you first met… but, you suppose, he finally showed his true colours. But thanks to that, you’ve sworn off dating hockey players ever again! 

“Oh!” a happy acknowledgement sounds and draws your eyes up to see a handsome, boyish grin beaming down at you, “It’s you!” His freshly washed locks drip with water and he moves to close the locker room door behind him when his words bring the attention of curious eyes from the rest of his team, all peaking a glimpse of you around his frame.

“Yeah…” you smile softly, nerves shaking anxiously as your hands clasp together for some stability, “sorry for suddenly showing up,”

“It’s alright,” James’ beaming smile doesn’t fade the slightest bit as his eyes shine with relief, “I’m just glad you’re looking okay,”

“Yeah, all thanks to you,” the compliment makes him flush bashfully as a large hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. For a guy with a bear-like frame, he pulls off the adorable puppy look pretty well.

“Did you watch the game?” he hurries to change the topic and instead of answering, you hold up a cutely wrapped batch of homemade cookies. Andrew was once the only person who had exclusive access to your home baked goodies but he lost that privilege a long time ago. It’s time to associate your baking with something (someone) more positive and deserving. 

“Wow! Thanks!” James eyes your offer with wide eyes and was already drooling from the sugary scent in the air, seducing him into taking it and having a bite. You smile at his moans of gratification and allow his free flowing compliments to boost your confidence, “will you be coming to our next game?” he suddenly asks, catching you off guard. 

“Uhh..--”

“Please come,” his eyes plead with you but when you don’t answer, he bargains, “I’ll win it for you,” 

No more hockey players be damned.

A/N : i love writing hockey player james potter too~ he's just so dreamy! ahhhhh! it's probably one of my favourite aus of james potter! (,,o // o,,) thank you so much for the request, anon-darling! im so sorry for taking so long, i hope you enjoy the read!

NAVI.

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[moonsaver]

You're certain your professor hates you.

Dr. Ratio was by no means someone who would go easy on you. His unmatchable merit meant almost unreachable standards of discipline and wit, and that extended a rigorous course with a passing percentage of 3%

You and the very few classmates you've had all were aware about what was to come once you signed up for his classes. Continuous, strict teaching, constant supervision, problems so hard it took days to solve. The worst exams were the open book ones – they lasted days.

At some point, your classmates decided to study together as a strategy. All of you would collectively study like maniacs and it did end up with gratifying results.

At least, for everyone else. Except you.

No matter what you did, your grades plummeted more and more from the previous exams. And Dr. Ratio was no shy of calling you out on it, telling you with a looming stature to meet him after class, the strain in his voice already enough for your blood to run cold.

Somehow, however, everytime after class when you sat down with Dr. Ratio, he seemed agitated, but nothing more. Of course, he didn't go easy on you when it came to pointing out every detail of a mistake on your paper, and that was the worst part you had to tolerate. Afterwards.. he was alright. The condescending tone in his voice as he instructed you to read the reference materials wasn't exactly tolerable, but it was better than being called an idiot, a buffoon, a failure in every language he possibly knew.

Although, what would annoy you even more was your study sessions were confined more and more to his office hours. After a few more failing grades, he would extend the amount of time you'd have to sit across him in the suffocatingly silent, sterile room with only an expanse of books that you occasionally interacted with, and a few necessities.

Every time your hand stopped scribbling, or your eyes stopped scanning the text, he would tap the table with a finger, and ask, "done already?" And you'd immediately continue, replying with a meek, "no". Sometimes if you took a while longer to answer out of hesitance, his sharp gaze would snap to you, looking up from one of his thick books, his reading glasses perched lower so that his eyes peeked out from above the lens. That would be enough to snap you from your trance, and get back to writing frantically.

But the arrangement was fine. Until he started getting uncomfortably closer.

Sometimes, he decides watching your eyebrows furrow in frustration is much more entertaining of a pastime during his break to rest his eyes. His office chair creaks a bit as he leans forward, his elbows perched on the desk, resting his chin on intertwined fingers. This was arguably more intimidating to you – his gaze was unimaginably heavy. And you're sure he's aware of it too – his eyes watch the obvious trembling of the pen in your hands, and the tensing of your jaw, as the realisation he's observing you thoroughly flashes in your eyes.

If you weren't so exhausted after taking your leave,you would have at least had the energy to think he was.. enjoying your discomfort.

And things only got worse from there. Sometimes he decides getting up from his chair and looming intimidatingly from behind you is better. At times, he leans down, too close for comfort, his breathing hitting the shell of your ears as you feel his eyes scan your work, and you. Sometimes, a waft of his scent hits your nose. You're sure he can smell yours, too.

In this position, it only gets worse. His arm sometimes rests across your back and his hand hangs firmly on your shoulder, his other hand pointing out a mistake you've made, and moves your writing hand to the exact spot. His condescending voice practically reverberates through you, his warm breath mixing with the cool air around your ear, making you flinch if you're caught off guard. You can only hope his observant gaze didn't see it.

Unfortunately, as helpful as the after-class lessons are, it seems it's not successful enough to get you to pass his course.

At some point, you're in his office almost late in the evening, the entire vicinity is devoid of people, echoes of usually quiet machinery are heard in the hallway. You sit across from him, head hanging from shame, and dread. He sighs deeply, leaning back in his chair, folding his legs.

He'll have to try.. other methods.

[wholoveseggs]

Hey lovely, your latest story gave me an idea. How about Reader and Elijah have been together for a while, but he is the one to avoid sex. Every time he has been with a human, it overpowered them or hurt them. He can't keep Red Door Elijah in check, which is fine when he's with a supernatural being, but not when he's with a human. Reader knows his backstory but is determined to show him that their love is different.

Control

{I've officially run out of gifs I want to use, so I'm in my moodboard era now}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Plagued by nightmares of hurting you, Elijah avoids any form of intimacy, but you have had enough. You confront him about his rejection and Elijah finally learns how to let go and lose control.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23, love love love red door elijah and his dark side ♡♡

6k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, lots of angst, red door Elijah, trauma, nightmares, visions of death, blood, blood drinking, rough sex, aggressive flirting, dom!elijah, jealously, masquerade ball, elevator vandalism...

Elijah needed control the way a drowning man needed air. It was as if it was a basic function, like oxygen, like blood. He had always been that way, even before he was turned, but it got worse when he was forced to take lives for food and to stay alive. His nature demanded he take what he wanted, when he wanted, but he was afraid of that, so he clung to rules, to discipline.

But no matter what he did, he was still plagued with the same nightmare. You, his perfect love, dead in his arms. Your body limp and lifeless, your eyes open but vacant. And all because he couldn't control himself. Your blood stained his skin, his clothes, his heart.

You knew better than to sneak up on a sleeping vampire, but it wasn't just any vampire. It was your Elijah, your sweet, loving, gentle Elijah.

All you wanted to do was surprise him with some coffee. It was going to be a long day, there was a huge party being hosted by Marcel. All of the factions were gathering for a masquerade ball, the first of its kind in centuries. There were rumors of a peace treaty in the works, and the festivities were the opening salvo.

You were beyond excited, you never experienced this sort of thing, and you were so happy that Elijah would be by your side. You picked out a matching set of masks for the two of you. For him, a sleek, black one with dark feathers at the tips. For yourself, a delicate, lace one in a deep crimson.

When you were younger, you had dreams of wearing beautiful, elaborate gowns, and dancing the night away with a handsome man. You couldn't help but feel giddy thinking about tonight.

You set the coffees down on a nearby table. Elijah's room was dim, only a small shaft of light peeking out from behind the curtains. He was curled up in the center of his large bed, his hair was disheveled and his lips were parted. The sheet was pooled around his hips, revealing his chiseled chest and toned arms.

He was beautiful, and you very much wanted to explore every bit of him. But he wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't allow himself to lose control. He had told you about his darkness, the red door, the place where he put all of the sins he couldn't live with.

When his control was frayed and his mind was weak, it would whisper to him, tempt him. Because there, in that space, he didn't have to feel guilt or pain. He was free. Free to do as he wished. He would be able to take you, claim you, love you the way his darker instincts screamed at him to.

You pulled off your sweater and boots, leaving you in just a mini dress and socks. You padded over to the bed and carefully slid under the covers, trying not to disturb him. You cuddled up next to him, your hand resting on his chest. You wished he would let you in, let you experience all of him, the good, the bad, the ugly. You loved him, and that meant loving everything about him.

Elijah had sensed your presence from the moment you entered his room, but he remained still, feigning sleep. His sweet little love, so utterly defenseless and vulnerable, alone in a vampire's bed. His fingers itched to touch you, to pull you into his embrace and never let you go. He could hear your heartbeat, steady and strong, could smell the sweet perfume you had dabbed behind your ears, and could feel the heat radiating off of your body. He was acutely aware of every aspect of you. It was hard not to give in to temptation, to pull you into his arms and kiss you until your lips were swollen and pink.

"Elijah," you said softly, in a sing-song voice. You brushed your fingers along his jaw, the stubble rough against your soft skin. He stirred slightly, pretending to wake.

"Hmm, good morning, love." He rasped, his voice heavy with sleep.

You kissed him softly, smiling into it. "Good morning. I brought us coffee."

He hummed, "That's perfect. Thank you, sweetheart."

"I can't wait for tonight." You sighed, tracing your fingers down his throat and along his collar bones.

Elijah was torn between letting his eyes flutter shut at the contact or watching your movements. You had him entranced.

"I can't either," he agreed. "You'll be the most beautiful woman there, I have no doubt."

You blushed at his compliment and kissed him again, your lips lingering against his. He groaned and rolled onto his side, bringing his hands up to cup your face, his thumbs stroking along your cheekbones. He let himself give in just a little, let the control slip a fraction. You gasped into the kiss as his tongue swept along the seam of your lips. Your lips parted, allowing him entry. You melted against him, your hand coming up to rest on his bicep.

His hands slid down your body, mapping every dip and curve, memorizing the feel of you. Your skin was like silk, your body supple and soft. You had a slight tremor, nervous, or maybe excited. He wasn't sure, but he loved how your breath hitched as he moved his hands lower and lower, until his palms were flat on your backside, his fingers flexing as he pulled you flush against him.

You hummed, a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan. He drank it in, taking all of your little sounds and storing them in his memory. He rolled, pulling you with him so that you were under him. You moaned as he settled between your thighs, his weight a welcome comfort. He moved his mouth down, nipping at the skin of your throat and collarbone, careful not to let his fangs break the surface.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling gently. You had fantasized about being with him in this way for so long, dreamed about how his body would feel pressed against yours, how his hands would feel on your bare skin. You didn't know what caused this shift in him, this sudden willingness to be intimate, but you were glad for it.

You tugged at the waistband of his boxers, trying to tell him what you wanted. You were not a shy person, you wanted to experience what it was like to be with such a powerful creature, to feel his strength and passion.

Elijah groaned and rocked his hips against yours, letting you feel how much he desired you. His control was slipping, and he didn't care. You wanted him, and he would have you. He leaned back to look at your beautiful face, wanting to etch this moment in his memory for all eternity. You were a vision, cheeks flushed and eyes dark with want.

Suddenly everything started to warp, your flushed skin turned cold, your warm eyes grew distant, and your heart slowed to a stop. His breath caught as a trickle of blood leaked from the corner of your mouth. He looked down at his hands and they were covered in your blood, the dark, rich liquid soaking the sheets and staining his skin.

"No, no, no, no, no." He chanted, trying to bring you back, willing the darkness to recede.

Your eyes were glassy, lifeless, bite marks all over your neck, your chest, your legs. You were covered in them, the evidence of his weakness, his inability to keep his desires in check.

Elijah threw himself from the bed, stumbling backwards. He clutched his head in his hands, a scream ripping from his throat. You were gone, dead, and it was his fault. He would never be able to look at your smiling face, never hear your soft laugh, or feel your lips on his again.

"Eli?" you said, stunned by his sudden departure. He was now across the room looking like a caged animal, his eyes wild and his hair a mess. You climbed out of the bed and slowly approached him. He looked like he was going to bolt, his muscles tense and his breath ragged.

"Are you alright?" you asked, reaching out to touch his arm.

"Don't!" he shouted, flinching away from your touch. "Don't touch me."

"Okay," you said, holding up your hands. "I won't."

He felt like he was losing his grip, the world was shifting around him, the ground threatening to give out beneath his feet. He felt like he was back there, back in that slaughterhouse that haunted him, the place that whispered his darkest desires, the place that taunted him with visions of what he truly was, no matter how much control he thought he had over it.

You reached out to him again, and he snapped. He grabbed your arm and pushed you against the wall, his eyes black and his fangs sharp. You gasped, but didn't struggle, trusting that he would never hurt you.

He released you at once, horrified by what he had done. He backed away, shaking his head. "No, no, no. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He sank to his knees, his eyes wild and frantic.

"It's okay, Eli." You said, kneeling in front of him.

"You need to leave, please." He begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere." You said firmly, reaching out to touch him again. He tensed, his breath hitching as you made contact.

"LEAVE," he roared, his eyes flashing. You jerked your hand back, surprised by his outburst.

Elijah regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, he watched you run out of the room and all he wanted was to chase after you, but his pride and fear kept him rooted in place. He couldn't let you be around him, look at what he did? If he couldn't control himself in a moment of passion, what would happen if he really let go?

Elijah stood in front of his mirror, adjusting and readjusting his tie. His hair was combed and his suit was tailored perfectly. But none of it felt right, the buttons on his shirt were too tight, the cufflinks too heavy, the material of his suit too coarse. He needed it all to go away.

He felt like a monster. A monster wearing a man's skin.

Elijah closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could do this. He could get through this night. He didn't know if you were coming to the party, and he couldn't decide if he wanted you there or not. He hated the idea of you being away from him, but he also couldn't bear the thought of you seeing him like this, a man unraveling, barely keeping himself together.

He opened his eyes and forced himself to smile, but the sight was a mockery. His lips were pulled taut, and his teeth looked like daggers. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to tear down the entire city and start anew.

"Elijah! we are going to be late!" He heard Rebekah yell from the courtyard below.

"Be right there," he called, his voice hoarse. He gave himself one last look in the mirror before he walked out of the room and descended the stairs. He could see his siblings all gathered, dressed impeccably with their dates on their arms.

Klaus was talking with Camille, they were dressed in matching shades of blue. Freya and Keelin were standing close together, their hands entwined. Kol was whispering something in Davina's ear, making her laugh. Rebekah was on the phone with Marcel, telling him she was on her way. And Hayley was chatting with Jackson, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

"There you are." Freya said, noticing his presence. "Where is y/n? She was so excited about tonight."

The sound of your name made his chest ache, he was about to explain, or rather, come up with a plausible excuse when he heard a voice from behind him.

"I'm right here."

He turned around to see you walking down the stairs, dressed in an ornate black gown, matching his suit, your mask hanging in your hand.

"Y/n," he said, stunned by how beautiful you were.

You smiled slightly and approached him, your heels clicking on the stones. He took your hand, inspecting your arm. It was bruised and there were small scratches from where he had dug his nails into your skin. He brushed his fingers over the marks, regret and guilt filling him.

"It's fine," you said, squeezing his hand.

"No, it's not."

You leaned in and kissed him softly, the feeling of your lips on his caused him to relax a little. He kissed you back, the contact grounding him, reminding him why he needed to stay in control, for you.

"Let's go," Klaus said, gesturing for everyone to follow him out the door.

You took your mask and placed it on, the crimson filigree complimenting the dark silk of your gown. Elijah put on his mask, the bold design making his dark eyes stand out.

The group arrived at Marcel's penthouse, finding the place already crowded. People were drinking, dancing, and mingling. It was a lively atmosphere, filled with music and laughter.

"It's nice," you commented, holding Elijah's hand.

"It is," he agreed, looking around the room. "Shall we?"

He gestured to the dance floor and you nodded, taking his offered arm. He led you to the center of the room, where couples were already twirling and spinning.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

"You may," you answered, giving him a shy smile.

He took your hand and placed his other on your hip, guiding you through the steps. The two of you swayed to the music, moving gracefully.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," you reassured him.

He wanted to argue, but you didn't give him a chance. You captured his lips in a kiss, the world around you melting away. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. The two of you stayed locked in the embrace, the music and the crowd fading into the background.

The two of you danced for a while, enjoying the feeling of being close to one another. The environment letting him relax a little. But when the music changed, becoming slow and sultry, his mind started to drift.

Elijah imagined pushing you against a wall, kissing your neck and leaving marks. He wanted to rip your dress off, and explore every inch of you. He wanted to bite you, to taste your blood. He wanted to claim you, to make you his.

He wanted to let go, to allow himself to give in. To experience the kind of pleasure and power that only came with a lack of control. But then he saw the blood again, the crimson of your mask, the ruby red of your lipstick, turned to the viscous liquid that both haunted and nourished him.

"What is it?" you asked, noticing the way his body tensed.

"Nothing," he said, his voice strained. "I just need a drink,"

He let go of you and headed to the bar, needing some strong alcohol to help calm his nerves. He ordered a scotch and downed it in one go, the liquid burning his throat. He ordered another, and another, until the world was pleasantly fuzzy and his thoughts were quiet.

"Mr. Mikaelson, so good to see you," a woman said, coming up to him.

"Madam," he replied, not looking up from his drink.

"How is business?" she asked, clearly wanting to engage in a conversation.

"Fine." He said shortly, hoping she would get the hint.

"The party is wonderful," she commented, sipping from a champagne flute, her mask was turquoise and silver, a few strands of her dark hair escaping her updo.

"Thank you, the decorations were my sister's doing," he replied, trying to be polite.

"Ah yes, your sister," the woman said, her eyes drifting over the crowd, landing on the blonde vampire. "She's almost as pretty as you," the woman added, a seductive smile on her lips.

"You're quite flattering, but I'm spoken for," Elijah told her, not unkindly.

The woman pouted. "So I heard, a human though? That must be...difficult," she said.

"How so?" He asked, not liking the direction the conversation was going.

"Humans are frail, their lives are fleeting," the woman replied, her hand coming to rest on his chest. He looked down at her hand touching him, her daylight ring a large sapphire. "And they are so easily broken," she added.

He clenched his jaw, trying not to let her words get to him. "That is why they are treasured," he replied, scanning the crowd in search for you.

"They are food. I thought an original vampire would know the difference," the woman grinned, enjoying getting a reaction out of him.

"Watch your tongue, Madam, or you might find it missing," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

"Oh, feisty," the woman purred, her free hand went up and she ran her finger over the edge of his mask. "You could have any creature here, take them however you want. Break them in the best possible way," she purred, her pupils dilated.

"That's not how I operate, now if you will excuse me," he said, his anger starting to bubble.

"That's how you used to operate," the woman taunted, her fingers trailing over the buttons of his jacket. "I'm a little hurt that you don't recognize me," the woman pouted, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Should I?" He asked, trying to place her face.

"Paris, summer of 1783, you had me by the hair, bent over the side of a balcony, fucking me so hard that the cement cracked," she told him, licking her lips. "You were wild, rough, animalistic. And it was amazing," she breathed, her gaze unfocused as she remembered the night.

Elijah couldn't remember her, nor did he remember the event. It was amusing to him that this vampire thought she was special. She wasn't. He had bedded hundreds, maybe even thousands, of women. He only ever remembered the ones he loved.

"A shame you can't recall, I've thought about it many times over the years," she said.

He raised his eyebrows. "That's a bit pathetic," he said bluntly.

She laughed, not taking offense. "Perhaps, but the sex was fantastic, I can still feel your bite," she smiled, her eyes falling to his mouth.

Elijah shook his head. "My dear, I'm sure there are plenty of willing participants here, if you truly wish to relive the past, you'll have no trouble finding someone to assist," he said dismissively.

"I would prefer you," the woman said, her tone changing. "No one here matches your power, no one can fuck me like you did."

"Maybe try Niklaus, ask him to bite you," he smirked, watching as his brother and Camille were laughing together.

"Both of you dating humans, what a complete and utter waste," she said, her eyes flicking to you. "I bet I could make you forget all about her," she cooed, pressing herself closer to him.

You could see this vampire all over Elijah, touching him and speaking in his ear. You weaved through the crowd, wanting to put an end to it.

Elijah's attention turned from the woman, a smile spreading across his face as he saw you walking towards him.

"I'm going to have to politely decline, thank you." he said, reaching his hand out for yours.

"Come now, surely you could use some relief," the woman cooed, her hands trailing over his body, ignoring your presence completely.

You didn't quite know what came over you, but you reached up and gently slapped her hand away from him.

The vampire turned her attention to you, her eyes going to the bruising on your arm. She let out a laugh. "Oh my, perhaps I was wrong, looks like your little plaything can handle you," the woman mocked, a smirk on her lips.

"Don't," Elijah growled, not appreciating her words.

She just laughed and shrugged, turning her attention back to him. "If you change your mind, I'll be here all night." the vampire winked at him and walked away, joining another group.

Elijah let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You gave Elijah a half-smile, hoping he wouldn't think you were stupid for hitting the vampire. She could have so easily crushed you, but you weren't afraid of her.

"Who was that?" you asked, annoyed by the exchange.

He shook his head. "An old lover, it seems," he told you, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"Oh," was all you said, sadness filling you. You weren't the overly jealous type, but knowing that vampire had Elijah in a way you hadn't made you envious and sad.

Elijah saw the change in your demeanor and realized he had not answered the question right. You misunderstood him.

"Not a recent lover," he explained. "It was a very long time ago, and I do not remember the night," he assured you, his hand cupping your cheek.

You sighed, his touch instantly easing the tension in your body.

He pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your waist. "That was very brave of you, that could have ended very badly" he said softly in your ear.

Your hands went to his shoulders, clinging to his jacket, the material warm from his body. "You make me feel brave, you make me feel safe," you murmured.

His heart constricted. He didn't deserve your faith or your trust. The bruise on your arm was proof enough of that. He should let you go, make you hate him and walk away from you before you get hurt anymore, but he couldn't. Not while you were looking up at him with all that trust and affection in your eyes. He loved you far too much to give up.

He leaned in and kissed you, the familiar spark of electricity passing between you. He deepened the kiss, his hand cupping the back of your neck. He was pouring everything he felt for you into it, hoping you could feel the depths of his love and devotion.

You returned the kiss, trying to convey all the things you couldn't say. You broke apart, panting slightly. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed.

"Eli, I was hoping that we could...," you trailed off, biting your lip.

"What?" he asked, his eyes fluttering open.

"I want us to...you know," you whispered.

His eyes darkened, hunger and need filled him. All of the work he had done to push away his urges, to protect you, had unraveled in an instant. Now all he could focus on was the vision of your body beneath his, the feeling of skin against skin. The blood flowing through your veins singing a song to him that he could not deny, at least, not completely.

He pulled you a little closer, swaying you to the music playing, his other hand gripping your hip possessively. You watched his pupils dilate, saw the tension in his jaw and the bob of his Adam's apple.

"Not tonight," he murmured, trying his hardest to hide how much he wanted you, how much it would hurt to reject you again.

Your fingers curled around the lapels of his suit jacket, tugging on it a little harder than you meant to. He never wanted to give in, to allow himself a taste of pleasure. Even with his walls down, Elijah could never truly give himself to you completely.

His hands went to yours, prying your fingers from his jacket, his eyes dark and dangerous. "You do not understand how difficult it is," he hissed.

You pulled against his grip, anger bubbling up. "So, help me understand," you said in a soft tone, ignoring the fact that you were arguing in a room full of people and that you were both gripping each other hard enough to bruise.

"It feels like..." you started, shaking your head a little, "like, I am not enough. Do you not want me? Or have you realized that you need more and I cannot provide that to you?" You finished in a small voice.

His grip on your hands tightened, a warning look flashing in his eyes. "You are more than enough," he whispered, his eyes softening.

You took a steadying breath. "Then. Please. Fuck. Me," you said bluntly.

Elijah let go of you as if you had burned him. Your words cut him deeply.

You let out a frustrated sigh, his rejection stinging. "I... I'm going to go home," you said, blinking back tears.

He went to grab you but you moved out of his reach, his fingers barely grazing your arm. He watched you leave, his eyes following your figure until it disappeared into the crowd.

It was in that moment that he knew he had to make a decision, either he could keep trying to be gentle with you and risk losing you or he could give in and have you completely, but at the cost of hurting you.

Elijah drained his drink and placed the empty glass on the bar, his mind made up. He followed you, moving so fast that no one saw him leave.

You were upset, your feelings a tangled mess, waiting in a quiet hallway for the elevator to arrive. Your eyes were glazed with tears, your breathing shaky. You didn't know what to do, and you didn't know what you wanted from him.

You were lost in thought when the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival, but before the doors opened, hands were on your waist and you were pressed against the wall. His lips were on yours, hungry and demanding. You gasped and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth.

You melted into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair. His hands were on your thighs, lifting you up and pushing your dress higher.

You wrapped your legs around him, pressing your body against his. The heat between you erupting, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

He broke the kiss, his mouth going to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites. His hands were on your hips, pulling your body closer. He was rough and urgent, his nails digging into your skin. You gasped, arching into him, needing to feel more.

"You want me to fuck you?" he whispered in your ear, his voice low and husky. "I will," he promised, his lips ghosting over yours.

You clung to him, giving yourself over to the moment. He lifted you off the ground and carried you to the elevator. The doors slid open and he stepped inside, pressing you against the wall. His hands were all over your body, touching and teasing.

You were so caught up in his touch that you didn't notice the doors closing, trapping the two of you alone. He punched the panel, making the elevator come to a jerking stop. He kissed you, his hands finding their way under your dress, pushing the fabric out of the way.

He gripped your hips, grinding against you. The intensity and desperation in his touch was new, making your head spin. You wanted more, needed more. You moaned, the sound echoing off the walls. He groaned, his fingers digging into your skin.

He pushed your panties aside, sliding a finger into your wet heat. You gasped, arching into him. He pumped his finger in and out of you, curling it inside of you. He added a second finger, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit.

He groaned, the feeling of you tightening around him almost too much, his lips brushing your ear. "I want to hear you say my name when I make you come," he whispered, his hot breath tickling your skin.

All you could do was nod, your cheeks flushed and your eyes closed, it was all happening so fast and you couldn't get enough of it. He pressed his lips to your neck, nipping at your skin. He added a third finger, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit.

Your eyebrows arched, locking eyes with him, your mouth open and your hands clutching his jacket. The pressure was building and you felt like you were going to explode. You gasped, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

"Elijah," you said his name breathlessly.

"That's it," he encouraged, pulling on your earlobe with his teeth. "Say my name," he ordered.

"Elijah," you moaned, the pressure coiling tighter.

"Again," he demanded, his hand speeding up.

"Elijah," his name fell from your lips, your release crashing through you.

Your eyes slammed shut, your head thrown back, the muscles in your neck straining. You were trembling, a sheen of sweat coating your skin. He slowly withdrew his fingers, placing gentle kisses along your neck and jaw. You could feel his fangs graze your skin.

He was so hard, you could feel his erection pressing against you. You shifted your weight, trying to gain some friction, but he pulled away, his hands on your hips, pinning you in place.

You opened your eyes, looking at his face, his eyes completely black, the veins under them moving, his mouth open slightly, showing his fangs. You felt fear, but not the type of fear that made you want to run, but the kind of fear that sent a thrill through your body, the kind that made you crave danger.

You lightly traced your fingers over the veins, a smile on your lips. His chest rising and falling rapidly. You ran your finger over his lower lip, and he leaned in, his fangs scraping the pad of your finger. You could feel the sharp tips. He was so dangerous, so lethal, a perfect predator, yet here you were, trapped and wanting nothing more than to have him consume you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He pressed his body against yours, his erection grinding against you. You moaned, reaching between you, your fingers deftly working the button and zipper of his trousers. You tugged his boxers down, his hard cock springing free. You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him.

"Fuck," he growled, his hips bucking, seeking more of your touch.

You tightened your grip, stroking him faster, twisting your wrist a little. He groaned, his hands on your thighs, his eyes hooded and his mouth parted slightly.

You released him and wrapped your arms back around his neck, grinding yourself against him. He growled, his hands cupping your ass, lifting you. You used the wall for support and wrapped your legs around him, angling yourself just right. You cried out as he pressed inside, stretching and filling you.

His breath was hot against your neck. "That's my girl," he said softly.

He paused a moment, giving you time to adjust. Then he started to thrust, his rhythm slow and measured, watching the way your expression changed as he fucked you. You moaned, your legs tightening around him, your ankles locking together, trying to pull him closer.

He pumped his hips, burying himself deep inside you. You tilted your head back, exposing the soft flesh of your neck.

It took every bit of control he had not to give in and bite you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling your blood pump just below the surface of your skin. His hips snapped harder, driving into you, focused on fucking you, on drawing more delicious moans and whimpers from sweet lips.

The coil within you grew tighter, the pressure increasing with every movement of his hips. You clung to his jacket, needing something to anchor you, feeling as if you were spinning out of control. He grunted with each thrust, the sound of skin against skin almost drowned out by the blood pumping furiously in your ears.

His eyes never left yours, a predatory look crossing his features, his fingers gripping the swell of your ass, pounding into you with incredible force, your head hitting the wall with each powerful thrust.

It was intense and consuming and you couldn't get enough of him, and neither could he.

You lost track of how many times you'd come, all you knew was the sweet, aching tension was building again and you didn't know if you could handle another. He held you so tight, your body pressed so close to his, his fangs threatening to pierce the delicate skin of your neck. You couldn't stop, you didn't want it to stop.

Then his rhythm faltered, his breathing becoming labored, his hips pumping furiously. He needed a release. It had been a while since he'd experienced such raw, carnal lust.

He could no longer keep himself from drinking from you, he'd waited too long, denied his primal urges. With a snarl, he sunk his fangs into the side of your neck. A guttural cry fell from your lips, your back arching as you came undone, the sudden pain mixed with the pleasure so intense, you felt your vision darkening as you blacked out.

Elijah gripped your thighs, his lips pulling blood from your body, sending your pulse racing, your blood so hot and sweet that he thought he would combust. He let himself go, cumming deep inside of you, your blood in his mouth, the sweetness coating his tongue and rushing into his system. Your body went limp in his arms, your heartbeat slowing.

Sudden panic consumed him, what had he done? The guilt and fear crashed over him in waves. You looked so pale, you were dying in his arms and it was his fault. The rage and self-hatred he had tried so hard to keep in check ripped through him, his true nature unleashed.

But then you opened your eyes, smiling at him dreamily and something inside of him snapped back into place.

Elijah chuckled, still inside of you. He grinned, the edges of his lips curving upwards. He kissed you softly, reverently.

"Holy fuck Elijah," you chuckled, panting slightly, your heart beating erratically, but you felt alive and amazing, and loved.

"You scared me for a moment," he confessed, resting his forehead against yours.

"That was.. You are..," you struggled for words. "Just wow," you laughed.

You held on to him, wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped an arm around you, supporting you, the other stroking the side of your head. You breathed him in, savoring the moment, never wanting it to end. He smiled, nuzzling your cheek, his nose rubbing against your skin.

"Let's go home, I want you all to myself," you murmured, kissing his neck, the taste of him filling you.

He chuckled, his voice a deep rumble. "As you wish."

"We have a lot of catching up to do," you grinned, thinking of all the things you were going to do to him.

Elijah chuckled. "My sweet girl," he murmured, kissing you gently.

The elevator rattled, the emergency lights coming on. Elijah pulled away from you, adjusting your dress, smoothing the fabric. He zipped and buttoned his trousers, straightening his clothes. The panel was broken, slight electrical sparks coming from the metal. Elijah gripped the doors, forcing them open. He stepped out and helped you down. You smoothed your dress, looking at him shyly. He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, leading you out of the building.

"I like it when you lose control, perhaps that was the solution all along," you teased, walking along the street, your fingers intertwined with his.

Elijah laughed. "Perhaps, my darling, you may be right."

And with that, he swept you off your feet and into his arms, carrying you out into the night.

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