#even though I only had those few interactions with her

[queenpiranhadon]

what are your thoughts on katsuki's reaction when he finds out his partner has the same spice tolerance as him...

A/N: Oh, anon don't worry I have MORE than just thoughts... I actually love this prompt so I'm gonna write it a little differently than usual :) Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader likes spicy food, second or third year-ish, fluff, pre-established relationship, standard partner nicknames are used - dummy, babe, baby, etc, reader is gn but is written with f!reader in mind, double dates but it's just silly goofy

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader, Mina Ashido x Ejiro Kirishima

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴡᴀꜱᴀʙɪ ─────•°•☁︎•°•────•

So from your wording, Bakugou finds out about your spice preferences at some point during your relationship, instead of before, which I don't think is as plausible because of his insane perception skills (he probably knows more about you than even you do before you guys start dating- my man is a closeted nerd and you can't convince me otherwise). But if he did find out while you two were dating, the outcome would be hilarious.

Let's say you're in the UA dorms, whether you're in the hero course on not, you're just chilling in the kitchen waiting for your boyfriend to meet you downstairs. Class 1-A loves you a ton, and even though the tease you and Bakugou a lot, you both end up having a lot of Netflix and chill dates in the common room since the TV there has a shirt ton of streaming services.

You put down your phone, sighing, and decide to be a little more productive instead- making your way to the common room to pick out a movie. It was tradition, between you, Katsuki, Kirishima and Mina to watch movies together every now and then as a double date- something Katsuki was adverse to but you knew he secretly enjoyed the chaos that ensued whenever the four of you were together- also realizing that if they weren't in his line of sight, they'd probably end up blowing up the dorms by accident anyways. He'd only said this once though, face turning bright red as you teasingly called him a mother hen.

Mina and Kirishima had started dating a few months ago (you and Katsuki had celebrated your 1 year anniversary two weeks prior). You thought it was nice, seeing Katsuki interact with his friends as he relaxed, even if only a little, around his close friends.

You settle yourself down in the plush couch across from the TV screen, and feel the cushions dip as a new weight is added, seeing Mina Ashido plopping down next to you.

"Movie night!" she cheers, and she nudges you with her shoulder. "Some day we gotta ditch the boys and get through a movie marathon together- I swear Eji has the worst taste in movies, if I have to watch another Star Wa-"

"Hey! My taste isn't that bad!" Kirishima whines, coming up behind the both of you with Katsuki in tow. "Plus you keep asking to watch those K-dramas that get your mascara running."

Mina raises an eyebrow. "Eji, you cry more than I do during those."

Katsuki sighs and raises his hand in an attempt for peace. "Oi, shut yer mouths and go grab the pillows and blankets. Y/N and I will order food and pick out the movie."

Mina groans but relents, looking at you pleadingly. "Please chose a good movie - no to be continued PLEASE"."

You snort, remembering how one time Kirishima had chosen Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and prompted the four of you to binge the entire MCU on a day without classes.

Scrolling through movies, you decide to choose a classic- the Matrix, something action packed enough to keep Kirishima (and Katsuki's) attention, and something with enough romance to keep Mina hooked.

As you navigate through the countless streaming services, Katsuki's voice pops up behind you.

"Oi, babe what do ya want to eat? Got some rolls dipped in wasabi for myself...I already know Shitty Hair's gonna ask for some chicken wings- an I got some tacos for Pinky cause I know she was whinin about cravin Mexican food earlier..."" He trails off, embarrassed when you grin knowingly in his direction.

You decide to be merciful though, shrugging and returning back to the TV. "I know very well that you're going to order from three different places just so all of us get what we want so I'll just share with you." you smile, and Bakugou's heart thumps softly from your thoughtfulness.

"Tch- whatever dummy. What do ya want in them- I know my rolls are pretty fuckin spicy - avocado, shrimp, cr-" He asks, but you cut his off with a bewildered look.

"What? Why wouldn't I get it with wasabi??" You ask dumbfounded. "That's like 85% of the flavor - plus it's kinda boring without it." you say, and your boyfriend's jaw drops open- as if you'd told him you were pregnant of something.

"Marry me."

You want to burst out in giggles, but stop when you see the deadass look on his face.

"Kats-"

"Jesus Christ, baby of all the shit ya hide from me, ya hide the most important one?!" He asks incredulously and that's when you start laughing.

"If ya told me this shit sooner I would've asked yer ass out the moment I met ya."

[alexa-fika]

Hi, hope you have a good year. Can i request for a whitebeard piratesx child,f!reader ff. So this is what if when the whitebeard found her when her parenst abounded her, she didnt do those bratty things or childish,things. Instead she becomes more stotic (emtionless if you want). So how would the whitebeard pirates help her?

Thanks

Abandoned Treasure (Whitebeard pirates x f!child!Reader)

A/N Okay guys listen, listennn After I got sick I had to catch up with homework and packing and moving so I left you guys again 😭 I ‘m sorry. This is kind pf a flop I don’t know if I like it but but I am cooking another piece as we speak with characters I’ve never written before 🤭

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Pops, I’m worried about her. It’s been a few months already, and the most she has done is get up to walk away from us,” Thatch piped up after bringing his lunch to the Captain.

Whitebeard sighed, looking at the young girl still sitting on the ship’s bow, not shying away from the scorching sun that had been penetrating her skin for days.

He had found the girl on a small island they had passed on the way to their next destination. The island itself, if one could call it that, was but a patch of sand, a small mountain protruding from the vast ocean. He could only assume that she was abandoned there, seeing as she had no signs of wear you would expect from one at the mercy of the sea and its waves. After being brought on the Moby, she simply remained in the bow, her stare never straying away from the direction in which she was found.

Even as the storm hit the boat, she did not waver, having to be forcefully brought inside lest the waves took her away. Relieving herself and taking a few spoonfuls of food every few days was the only reason she would deviate from her scouting, waiting for what he guessed was her family to return. Any attempt the crew made to interact with her was promptly shut down as his sons simply found themselves making empty conversations with someone who would never answer; extended attempts at conversation or trying to get words out of her would only end in her walking away, placing herself in a different post and resuming her search.

“Marco,” he rumbled, glancing down at first mate, who let out a quiet hum in acknowledgment of the call as he continued to browse his father’s latest changes in health.

“How is she?”

This gets the Doctor’s attention as he moves from the papers in his hands to the girl sitting at the ship’s bow.

“Thatch, when did she eat last?”

“Ah, the last time I noticed something missing from the food I brought her was a week ago; it was less than a bite, though.”

Marco takes a minute to get the information and take in the child’s current state.

“If she keeps this up, she won’t make it another month; her body is barely hanging on as it is from the starvation, dehydration, and sun poisoning she has been taking. I would be surprised if she made it that long.”

“We have given her enough space and time; it’s time we talk whether she wants to or not,” he states, slowly standing up.

Dokucha is quick to notice the overwhelming presence of the Captain behind her.

“You have to stop, brat”

A single glance from the young girl was all the man got in response to his statement before she stood up to change her position, only to be stopped by Thatch.

“Sorry, not this time, sweets.”

She glared up at him at his words, ignoring the way he winced.

“Geez, ray of sunshine aren’tcha”

“Move.”

“you’re bossy for someone who Is stowing away in our ship,” Marco stated.

“I didn’t ask to be a stowaway; my parents are coming back.”

“No.”

“They are,” she voiced, looking up at the huge man.

“They aren’t coming; your parents are not coming back.”

“You are wrong.”

“I’m sorry; it has been over a month since your parents left you behind,” Izou stated, stepping closer to the girl.

“They didn’t.”

“Then why haven’t they come back?”

“They are restocking supplies; that’s why they are taking so long,” she reasoned, glaring at the gun user.

“Sweets...” Thatch trailed off, a frown on his face at her stubbornness

“You are all liars. I won’t fall for your lies; my parents are coming back.”

Whitebeard closes his eyes, sighing; they are unlikely to get anywhere with the way it was going. He has many sons, and none were free from pain and anguish. They often turned to denial to ground themselves from people’s cruelty, so he has become adept at reaching such people.

“Leave us,” he ordered, opening his eyes.

“Pops?

“Go to your posts.”

“Aye, aye, Sir”

Dokucha watched the commanders slowly retire from the bow, some lingering for a while longer until they finally gave in to their Captain’s orders and left the two alone.

Dokucha said nothing as she simply sat back down in her original spot, ignoring the presence of the yonko

“You already know they are not coming back,” he rumbled, looking down at her small figure.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated.

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

“What are you talking about, you old man?”

“You’re parents abandoned you because they are a bunch of bastards who can’t take responsibility. It’s not because there is something wrong with you.” He stated, raising a brow when she did not respond

“They are coming back,” she finally stated, continuing her words before Whitebeard had a chance to tell her off.

“I was good; I helped them find the best treasure. I had a hard time finding some for a while, but I’m really good at it, so they will come back,” she stated, a crack to her otherwise emotionless facade beginning to shine through.

“I’m useful, so they will come back. They have to,” she muttered, her voice filling with emotions the more she went on in her tangent.

“They won’t.”

“No..No, I can find the treasure, so you just need to find them again so I can tell them,” she replied, rubbing her eyes.

He frowned, kneeling down and taking hold of the girl.

“That’s enough.”

“No, I c-

“Enough,” he repeated louder.

“If your parents loved you only when you found treasure for them, then they only loved the treasure you found for them.”

“I don’t care! They praised me if I found treasure, which made me happy; they loved me if I found treasure, and that made me happy,” she cried.

“Let me go! Let me go!” she hollered, struggling against his half.

“Stop that,” he growled.

“Did she fall asleep?” Ace asked, approaching the two hours later

“Damn brat was screaming and crying for two hours before she finally gave in to exhaustion,” WHitebeard grumbled.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Whitebeard glanced at his youngest son, stopping for a minute to think.

“It will be a while before she is okay; just like all of you, she has to deal with her trauma slowly. Just hope she’s not like you and goes on assassination attempts.”

“Come on, Pops, stop bringing it up; it’s embarrassing,” the young man replied with a frown, this one only growing as his father just let out a massive laugh.

Okay I ‘ll give you a hint, this one is really general, maybe if you ask I can give another hint but they are marines, technically I have given you two hints, I have never written them before and they are marines any guesses?

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[i-have-a-lot-of-ocs]

Tempted to write a replaced au twst fic where Yuu (or alternatively, I'll use my Yuu, Riyuu, who is basically who I'm writing this for) used to be the cutest girl around, the cheery one who's always around everyone, the one you can't seem to dislike even if your crush falls for her because she earnestly says sorry (even though it's not her fault) and will always help you out if you need her back in her old school. But one day, a new girl comes around and her whole reputation got destroyed. She helps the new girl adjust, tells her all the rumours and introduces her to all the popular kids. But the girl ends up backstabbing her, telling the popular girls rumours about how she intentionally plays up the act to steal their crushes to her, and lies to the boys, telling them she's just playing with their hearts and that she's a horrible person.

Yuu ends up alone and excluded, being seen as "annoying" and only having a few close friends who doesn't really interact with her in public in fear of their reputation being ruined. She ends up miserable at school, and wishes to not go anymore. But one day comes a saving grace, she gets whisked by a mysterious black carriage into Twisted Wonderland, or more specifically, Night Raven College. She doesn't mind working if it meant she doesn't have to deal with her old school, there was still 1 and a half years left of school and she doesn't want to deal with all ghe group projects to be assigned that will inevitably end with everyone not wanting to team up with her. Plus, as annoying Grim is, he's like the animal friend all of the anime and storybook protagonists she knows has, and she doesn't mind him too much.

Some things did change after she and Grim got officially enrolled, but she had no problem adapting to the social expectations of the world, part time jobs with Sam -- and occasionally the canteen -- paid enough to get her tools for cooking basic but delicious food, and new friends without the weight of her past helped her get settled comfortably.

The existence of Overblots stunned her for a bit, but a peek into Riddle and Leona's memories helped her understand the concept, even if just a little. However, things began to change eerily simlarly to her old school when a new girl comes, also in a similar position to her, getting transported to a new, unfamilliar world, and seemingly hailing from a similar world to the Earth she knows. She warmly welcomes her, eager to finally befriend another girl, but it seems that the girl does not share the same enthusiasm.

The girl only barely responds to Yuu's attempts at forming a friendship, and always seems to talk her in a condescending way, and often dismisses her, and especially so whenever there are any boys around.

Yuu will not deny any statements claiming she's an attention seeker or that she plays up her sweet innocent girl act, but she knows to never, ever sacrifice a bystander for it. But if someone insists on war with her... well that's another, different story. She's learnt her lesson of being overly optimistic, and she will not make the same mistake twice. She will not let her make her life a living hell more than it already is with Crowley's irresponsibleness.

Aaand thus begins the story. Or well, however you wanna continue it. I'm honestly in favour of most Housewardens (Kalim, Vil, and Idia in particular. I'll put my reasoning in a few paragraphs down) Adeuce, Tweels, and Ortho for team Yuu. Why?

Well, first of all, Adeuce. This is mostly because the duo is like. with Yuu since Day 1, as much of a bitch as Ace is, I think those two are the most likely to trust and know Yuu well enough to not believe the lies R (< Replacer) tells. Especially Deuce, he doesn't want to betray a friend he knew for quite a while, that would not be very honor student-like of him!! And she helped him out in a lot of situations too! He doesn't want to hurt you after all the trouble you go through to help him, and also knowing how horrible your living conditions are. Ace would most likely give in to peer pressure if the student body is overwhelmingly in favour of R, but as of now, he maybe enjoys your company just a bit more than R. Just a bit, promise.

Tweels I feel like is self-explanatory. Those two are perceptive as fuck istg it scares me. Jade especially. I feel like the two would just toy with R for a bit despite her facade and lies before dropping her after she bothers them for attention and favours one too many times.

(Ortho ties in with Idia so I'll explain him in Idia's paragraph)

Kalim is actually very emotionally intelligent. He can come off annoying and stupid, but from all the scenes I see of him, he's actually really good at dealing with people. Have you seen how he deals with the Scarabia residents after Jamil's OB??? The way he phrases his sentences?? He didn't force or even plead with them to forgive Jamil, he simply asks them to wait before making permanent judgements, and I think he's gonna be uncomfy with how condescendingly R talks to Yuu, and even if he's used to people going after him for money, I feel like R mostly eyeing him for money and how she "secretly" sighs in annoyance everytime she goes out of the party for a "bathroom break" will only solidify his dislike/discomfort, even if he doesn't show it.

Vil is also kind of self-explanatory if you read into his character and not just the shell the official English localization makes for him. (I could rant for hours about how the official tl portrays his character istg. He's hardworking and he actually didn't attempt to poison Neige out of pure jealousy, he did it because he felt like all his efforts to be beautiful will never be able to surpass Neige, who, in his eyes, always seemed to be innocent and naturally beautiful. He feels like the villain in Neige's story. He feels like he is reduced to what he often plays as, a snobbish, overconfident villain obsessed with overthrowing the hero. And because of it, it became a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy, pushing him to, in a fit of despair, be that same villain everyone sees him as.) I really don't think he will take well to R's condescension to Yuu, who genuinely wants to befriend R. (I actually have a whole thing in my head where Yuu and Vil occasionally have sleepovers where they do skincare together after the whole VDC thing happened. I feel like this is also a "vent sesh" of sorts for the both of them, just to air out their grievances without much seriousness, and I think Yuu would admit to wanting a fellow girl in the school that she could befriend, since no matter what, being the only girl can be exhausting.) Ik Vil's not a girl but he is such a girls' girl istg.

Idia... this mostly ties into Ortho and The STYX Incident, but like,, I think we can all agree on this one,, Idia is smart and capital V Very pessimistic. Would you rather trust the girl you've known for a while, who saw your memories, who helped you in awkward social situations when she can and is besties with your brother or some random new girl who trash talks said girl behind her back? The former, right? Plus, even if Yuu did only hang out with him and his brother because she likes to secretly laugh at him behind his back, there's mo guarantee R wouldn't do the same, given his experience. And he would rather have someone who actively helps him and his brother out than someone who wouldn't.

I didn't put Malleus in because of how canon him actually treats Yuu. I feel like the fandom kind of put on rose-tinted glasses on with his character, and kind of ignored some things like, idk... him just leaving them to fend for themselves homeless during Octavinelle... maybe he thought Crowley would offer them a place to stay but like... I'm still bothered by how didn't atleast offer a spare room in Diasomnia. He's a housewarden goddamnit. He's not as distant or scary as the rumours say but like. still rubbed me the wrong way.

Anyways I don't think my attention span will let me write it to completion so if anyone likes this and wants to write it feel free. Pls tag me if you do tho. I would love to read it :3

[grimmtells]

What would an interaction between Arlekin and Pomni be like?

✦ Here's an interaction they had ! Probably happens around a week into Pomni arriving at the circus and still struggling to find her mark (this third person, but mostly pomni's pov/thoughts)

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Pomni sat silently at the border of the digital lake, far away from the tent and dipping her feet or — shapeless whatevers that they were — in the water. She stared idly at her reflexion, absentmindedly inspecting the details of this new face that had replaced her own ; those saturated pinwheel eyes, that clownish white face, those miserable strands of hair… she'd never really been a massive fan of her face before, but it was arguably better than this one.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't feel the presence floating up to her when gloved hands grabbed her shoulders.

“Ah, there you are !”

“AAAGH—”

Pomni shrieked, taken aback by the sudden pull-back to earth and yanked herself away.

SPLASH

Unfortunately, that way was the lake. Pomni quickly swam to the surface, coughing up some of the digital water she almost choked on, only to hear an obnoxiously pompous laugh. She looked up, all too annoyed at the sight of the circus’ other jester, Arlekin.

“Oh, my dear colourful little Pierrot, you're so silly aren't you ?” He smirked, “Were you dying to go for a swim that much ? You'd no need to wait for me ! Ah ah ah~”

Pomni glared at him, getting herself out of the lake and squeezing the water out of her hat.

“What do you want,” she groaned, not very inclined to have any lasting conversation with him.

“How delightful that you’d ask !” He hummed, clasping his hands together, “See, like I told you before, myself and Kaufmo used to perform together-” 

Before he could even finish, Pomni’s eye twitched as her annoyance bubbled into anger.

“I DON'T want to perform anything with you,” she scowled, “I don't care what you and Kaufmo did, I'm not Kaufmo and I happen to think you're a jack%$!#.” Her words were sharp, but none seemed to wipe off the smirk on his face as he eyed her down. “Like I told you before, I'm not doing any stupid skit with you.”

“Oh, you wound me !” He dramatically bemoaned, feigning offence and pretending to clutch imaginary pearls.

But after squeezing enough water out of her hat, she grabbed her shoes and made a beeline for the tent without sparing him another glance. That didn't mean the mask-faced jerk wasn't following her, though.

“Please.” He scoffed, “Call Jax a ruffian all you want, but me ? I'm just teasing you, Poms, nothing so dreadful as you make it sound like !”

“We don't have the same definition of teasing,” She responded dryly.

Arlekin floated to her side, resting his face on his hands while wearing an amused look. 

“We also have differing definitions of fun, amore, yet I'm at least putting in an effort for us to get along~” He hummed.

Pomni shot him a baffled glare.

“Ugh,” she huffed under her breath, picking up the pace. She wasn't about to play mental gymnastics with him.

Intentionally lagging behind, Arlekin crossed his arms, smirking still.

“I give you a few weeks, tops.” He shot, flatly.

Pomni halted her tracks. For a second, she tried to tell herself he wasn't referring to what she thought he was referring to.

“A few weeks for what ?” She asked with an air of unease, her eyebrows slightly furrowed as she kept her back to him.

“Before you abstract, of course.~”

He said that so matter of factly that when she turned around to face him, he looked almost darkly disturbing to her, just for a moment.

“What are you saying ?” She breathed, clutching her shoes.

“Ah ah ah, oh my dear, don't shoot the messenger.” He waved a hand dismissively, “it's just an observation, a fair warning you could even say.~”

“An observation ?” She frowned, completely appalled, “saying I'm basically gonna die is an observation ?” She took a step forward, never feeling so ready to hit someone square in the jaw as she did in that moment.

Arlekin sighed theatrically, like he was the one dealing with a difficult case.

“You sweet, worryingly dim-witted thing,” he said, “like a dainty doe, immobile as a statue in the face of a speeding car's headlights ✧” He recited, in a light, breathy voice, like he was narrating something.

“What the f—” 

“Don't you see ?” He cut her off, floating right up to her face, “that you're doing everything in your power, intentional or not, to abstract?”

“What ? I—” She stammered, “I haven’t—”

“And don't say you haven't been doing that.” He countered, glaring down at her, “Jax told you Kinger has been here the longest, but you've not been told yet that oldest circus member he may be, I, among this group, am the second oldest resident.”

Pomni frowned. Was he boasting about it ? He continued.

“And unlike Kinger, I am still sane enough to catch the warning signs.” He added, “Isolation, Pomni, is not the solution. Desolation as you mournfully miss your former self isn't either. I suggest, you do not think too much of the past, for your sake and our own.” 

He sounded strangely curt, despite smirking through all this. Almost like he’d told this many times before, enough times to be annoyed to have to repeat himself.

“I—” Pomni struggled finding her words, “Why would you care, anyway?”

“Oh, do you think me so inhumane ?” He scoffed, “Nobody likes a funeral, you see.” The humour had a hint of sourness, “but if you wanna be the next portrait everyone speaks morosely of, be my guest !~”

“Wha, i don't— !”

“You don't? Deepest apologies, I really thought you did, with the way you behaved.” He snarked, “whether you like it or not, this is your new body” He pointed to her, “this is your new home,” he gestured all around them, “and there is no exit.” He spat, his face now scrunched in anger for the first time, “so if you want the slightest. slither. of chance. at staying sound of mind, I suggest you try to be a tad more positive, invested, dare I say. Else, we'll have another sorry crossed-out face among bedroom doors.”

Pomni’s face was a mix of confusion and agitation. She didn't like how genuine he sounded. No matter how honest he looked, she couldn't help but feel this didn't come from a place of worry for her. Yet, he did look very mad, why ? 

She breathed in and out sharply to collect her thoughts.

“I'm still not doing any — skit or performance thing with you,” she maintained as sternly as she could, “but— fine. I'll start being more— ... involved,” she conceded.

Immediately, Arlekin's smile returned.

“Baby steps, tesoro,” he cooed, “Even I know to praise efforts being made.”

Pomni watched him waltz away to the tent, humming a little melody to himself. This whole thing left her feeling slightly more uncomfortable than before.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You guys interpret all that however you want 👀

[variantoutcast]

Not sure how to insert a read more on mobile so this post about my personal experiences with transphobia and ableisn will be in the tags only 👍

[theostrophywife]

heaven and back.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader x theodore nott.

song inspiration: heaven and back by chase atlantic.

author's note: poly! matty and theo just hits different. the teamwork that these two would put in. whew baby that's a one way ticket to st. mungo's. these men break backs, not hearts 😏

You were good at playing games. 

As a matter of fact, Mattheo and Theodore would argue that you were a little too good. 

After all, you met your boyfriends during one of Malfoy’s infamous game nights in which you swindled Mattheo and Theodore out of a few hundred galleons during a tense round of magical poker. Ever since that fateful night in fourth year, the three of you became inseparable. Thanks to your slyness, the first Saturday of every month was deemed sacred to your fellow Slytherins. Game nights were reserved for drinking and debauchery, which just so happened to be your specialty.

Though the entirety of Hogwarts coveted an invitation to the longstanding tradition, very few were allowed a glimpse into the inner workings of the serpent’s nest. Tonight, the guest of honor was none other than the Gryffindor golden girl—Hermione Granger. She and Draco only started dating a month ago, but anyone with eyes could see that Malfoy was quite smitten. Before Hermione, Draco had never invited a significant other to game night. 

You were determined to give Hermione a warm Slytherin welcome. Hence the special potion you brewed just for the occasion. 

With a smirk, you produced the potion from your back pocket. The liquid sloshed around in the glass vial, the iridescent purple mixture flecked with specks of glitter. 

“I know that look.” Theo remarked, pulling you into his lap. “What sort of trouble are you brewing, dolcezza?” 

Mattheo chuckled and nestled against his shoulder. “Don’t act like you don’t like it, Teddy. You know we both benefit from her mischief. Isn’t that right, princess?” 

You smiled, ruffling Mattheo’s curls. “You’re absolutely right, Matty. Tonight, everyone will reap the rewards of my tricks. I concocted a special little potion that’ll make game night a little more interesting.”

Pansy raised a perfectly groomed brow. “What exactly does this little concoction of yours do, Y/N? The last time I drank something you brewed, I ended up streaking through the quidditch pitch.” 

“As I recall, I was right beside you, Pans.” Your friend chuckled, nodding in confirmation. “Consider this a social lubricant. It takes the edge off, makes you feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. It’s the perfect balance between feeling tipsy and high. Lowers those pesky inhibitions.” 

Draco scoffed. “If this group lowers their inhibitions any further, we’d all be expelled.” 

“That’s why we have you, Dray. What good is the Malfoy fortune if it can’t bail us out of sticky situations?”

“Need I remind you that the last sticky situation almost ended with Enzo in the infirmary after Mattheo and Theo convinced him to race backwards on their brooms.”

Hermione watched the back and forth exchange, absorbing the interaction with a small smile. 

“Draco’s exaggerating, of course. Anyone would’ve missed the whomping willow in the dark.” The Golden Girl chuckled as you sent her a conspiratory wink, causing Draco to sigh in exasperation. “Besides, Berkshire had fun. Didn’t you, Enz?”

“Oh, loads. I had a blast pulling twigs from my arse for two hours straight afterwards.” 

“See? You’re not talking us into taking another one of your poisons, Y/N.”

Enzo shook his head. “Speak for yourself, cousin. I’m definitely in.”

The rest of your friends expressed their agreement. Even Blaise, who would never dream of drinking anything besides the finest vintage, was eager to participate. Mostly to see the others make a fool of themselves, which was perfectly fine by you.

Draco rolled his silver eyes. “Fine. You lot are going to end up talking me into it, anyways.”

“What about you, Hermione? Would you like a sip as well?”

Her warm, honey brown eyes darted around the room. Draco clasped her hand in his, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, love. I’m only agreeing because I don't want to have to take care of these heathens.”

You nodded empathically. “No pressure, Hermione. You can say no if you’d like, but I am rather proud of my little concoction and it would be an absolute honor if the golden girl partook in our debauchery. After all, you’re dating Draco. You might as well get used to it now.”

A mischievous grin pulled at Hermione’s lips. She shrugged nonchalantly, her curls cascading over her shoulder. “Why the bloody hell not?” 

“That’s the spirit, Granger!” cheered Pansy. 

You smirked in response and slithered out of your boyfriend’s lap. Both Mattheo and Theo watched intently as you crawled across the plush ornate rug, slowly making your way towards the Gryffindor. Hermione sucked in a breath, her cheeks blossoming into a pretty blush. Her hands, which were laid in her lap in the most prim and proper way, twitched when you knelt before her on the sofa. 

Behind you, Mattheo mumbled something into Theo’s ear. When you glanced over your shoulder, your boyfriends were staring directly at you, anticipating your next move. You responded with an innocent smile before turning back to Hermione. 

With  a sly smile, you held her honey eyed gaze and tapped her bottom lip. “Open up, love.” 

Hermione swallowed thickly before parting her lips. You gently cradled her jaw before tipping the vial into her mouth, pouring a generous amount of potion for the golden girl. She looked up at you expectantly, her lashes fluttering ever so slightly. 

You rewarded her with a cheeky wink. “Good girl, Granger. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

She shook her head, the flush on her cheeks mimicking her house colors as you wiped a droplet of liquid off of her lips with your thumb. Beside her, Draco sighed. “For Salazar’s sake, stop putting the moves on my girlfriend.” 

“What’s the matter, Dray? Are you scared I’ll steal Hermione away from you?” 

“You can hardly blame me. You’re a shameless flirt, Y/N.” 

You placed a hand over your heart, feigning offense. “Why, I’d never dream of flirting with your lady. You know how jealous my boys get.” 

Your boyfriends shook their heads, clearly amused at your attempt to rile Draco up. Truly, your friend made it too easy. You chuckled as the blonde glared at you. “Come on, Malfoy. It’s your turn. Maybe the potion will loosen you up, yeah?” 

Draco rolled his eyes, but allowed you to pour the potion into his mouth. You moved down the line, doing the same for Pansy, Blaise, and Enzo. The latter grinned as you ruffled his hair. After Enzo, the only ones remaining were Theo and Mattheo. 

“Come here, cara mia.” Theo said, beckoning you with two fingers. “Mattheo and I are waiting.” 

“I saved the best for last, boys.” 

Mattheo smirked as he pulled you into his lap. You settled against him, making yourself right at home. He kissed the side of your neck, smiling against your skin. “Go on, then. Don’t leave Theo hanging.” 

You nodded, body heating as Mattheo rubbed your thighs. Theo raised a brow, his watercolor eyes settling over you. Licking your lips, you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander. Your boyfriend looked rather casual in his emerald jumper and dark jeans, but there was something about the way that Theo carried himself that exuded sex appeal. The cocky smirk on his handsome face told you that he was well aware of the effect he had on you.

Theo cocked his head towards you and opened his mouth. You tipped the vial past his lips, admiring how plush and pouty they looked. Lust darkened your boyfriend’s watercolor eyes as he watched you through hooded lids. The potion dribbled off his chin, making you giggle. 

“Oops, I spilled.” You licked the remnants off, lapping up the liquid all the way to the corner of his lips. Mattheo’s fingers dug into your hips as you finished off your little show with a kiss. 

Theo grabbed the back of your head and deepened the kiss. He didn’t take kindly to being teased. Never one to shy away from public displays of affection, Theo groaned softly and slid his tongue into your mouth, giving you a filthy open-mouthed kiss before pulling away and winking. 

Across the room, Hermione flushed, her lips parting ever so slightly. “Oh,” she whispered softly. 

Mattheo chuckled, his laughter caressing your skin as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He turned you over in his lap and tapped his lips. “Me next, princess.” 

“Open wide, Matty.” 

“Funny. Usually I’m the one saying that to you.” 

Your friends groaned at the suggestive comment, but you only grinned in response. Mattheo parted his lips eagerly, not once breaking eye contact as he swallowed the potion. The intensity of his big, brown eyes made your hands shake, causing you to spill a few drops on your fingers. Your boyfriend took your middle and pointer finger into his mouth and sucked them clean. 

You gasped in surprise. Mattheo chuckled darkly, catching the vial before it slipped out of your fingers. Behind you, Theo tugged at your hair and titled your head back. 

“Your turn now, mi amor.” Mattheo drawled, his voice a seductive song in your ears. He lowered his voice, so only you could hear his next statement. “Be a good girl and swallow.” 

The eager nod made both of your boyfriends smirk. Theo gathered your hair in one hand, fisting your locks into a makeshift ponytail while Mattheo poured the last of the potion into your mouth. The liquid was strong and sweet, trailing down your throat and warming your body with a pleasant heat. 

“That’s my girl,” Mattheo said. Theo raised a brow, which made the curly headed boy laugh. “That’s our girl.” 

“Better,” Theo remarked before pulling you against him. 

You settled into his lap, watching the rest of your friends start a game of poker. As always, Draco was way too competitive. Blaise was hustling the hell out of him, but the blonde didn’t seem to notice. Pansy wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s shoulders, leaning in every so often to whisper things in his ear that made him smile. 

Enzo reclined back on the couch, an endearing smile pulling at his lips as he took small sips of his firewhiskey. From his glazed eyes, you could tell that the potion was hitting him the hardest. 

Mattheo rested his head on your lap, tugging at your hand in a silent request to play with his curls. You obliged happily, scratching at his scalp and twirling his bouncy locks between your fingers. Every so often, he’d lean in and show you his cards, asking for advice. 

As the night progressed, the potion took its effects, loosening both lips and limbs. Theo’s long legs bracketed you from either side, the intoxicating scent of petrichor and cigarette smoke clinging onto him like your own personal drug. Mattheo stared lovingly up at you as you continued playing with his hair. 

When you looked up, you met Hermione’s inquiring gaze. She was leaned up against Draco, who kept an arm around her waist, absentmindedly drawing circles underneath her sweater. 

She cocked her head, a question forming in her brilliant mind. “So, how exactly does it work?” 

You leaned back against Theo’s chest, a playful smirk curving against your lips. “How does what work, love?” 

“Having…two boyfriends.” 

“You mean, being poly?” 

“Poly,” Hermione said, testing out the word. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in her expression, just plain curiosity. Apparently, the Gryffindor girl’s innate hunger for knowledge extended to the intricacies of your relationship. “If you don’t mind me asking. How exactly does a poly relationship work?” 

You shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s like every other relationship,” you started, glancing at your two favorite people in the world. Mattheo and Theo smiled back. “We go on dates, we argue about stupid things, then we kiss and make up. Except sometimes the boys like to gang up on me.” 

Theo chuckled. “I reckon ganging up against you is the most fun that we have, dolcezza.” 

“I’d have to agree with Teddy,” Mattheo interjected as he grinned up at you. “We give teamwork a whole new meaning. Don’t we, princess?” 

“See,” you said, waving your arms between your boyfriends. “These sassy men will be the death of me.” 

Theo wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling against your neck. “You love us though.” 

“That I do,” you replied with a smile. 

“Do any of you ever get jealous?” asked Hermione. 

Theo nodded. “Of course, it’s a natural part of every relationship, but we have ways of working it out.” Your boyfriend smiled and kissed your cheek. “We just make sure no one feels left out.” He leaned down to place a kiss on Mattheo’s forehead too.

Hermione hummed. “That sounds rather nice, actually.” 

“I wouldn’t call it nice,” Mattheo countered with a sly smile. “Y/N can get a little feisty sometimes. You should’ve seen what she did to Lavender for touching my shoulder last week.” 

Theo nodded in agreement. “It’s nothing compared to the fight she had with Cho after she tried asking me out. Poor girl thought that polyamory equates to having an open relationship. As if I’d ever need anyone else besides Y/N and Mattheo.” 

“So polyamory doesn’t translate to opening your relationship to others,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “I’m learning so much.” 

Mattheo confirmed her statement with a nod. “Yes, we’re all very committed to one another. It’s only Y/N and Theo for me.” 

“While we all adore your wonderful little trio,” Draco cut in. You could tell by the tension in his shoulders that he would definitely not be open to sharing the golden girl with anyone else. “I think it’s time to call it a night.” 

You chuckled. “Such a party pooper, Malfoy. Don’t worry, Granger’s just asking for education purposes. Aren’t you, Mione?” 

“I know what you’re doing, Y/N. You’re devious, you know that?” 

Theo smirked at his oldest friend. “Don’t be jealous cause she has more game than you, Dray.” 

“After all, that’s how she got us. Right, princess?” 

Draco sighed exasperatedly. You rolled your eyes fondly before saying goodbye to everyone. Pulling Hermione into a hug, you winked behind her back as Draco glared at you. 

“Thank you for indulging me,” Hermione said softly. “I feel thoroughly educated now.” 

“No problem, Mione.” 

You kissed her cheek before wrapping Draco into a hug as well. “Stay sharp, Dray. You’ll have to work harder to keep up with this one. Granger’s way out of your league.” 

Draco smiled. “I’m well aware.” 

Later that night as you laid in bed sandwiched between Mattheo and Theo, you felt the potion reach its peak. You giggled into Theo’s neck, squealing as Mattheo pressed his cold feet against your legs. The three of you were chatting about your day like you usually did, but thanks to the potion, one of you always got sidetracked, leading into cuddles and kisses mid sentence.

Matty spooned you from behind, his possessive grip snaked around your waist like a vice. “I’m not going to lie, watching you crawl towards Granger tonight did something to me.” 

“That’s her game, mio amato. You know she loves to tease.” 

You turned over to face him, an amused smirk toying at your lips. “I thought you liked my little games, Teddy. At least your lower half did. I could feel you pressing against me all night.” 

Theo smirked, grinding his erection against your thigh. “Can you blame me? You knew exactly what you were doing. Admit it, cara mia. You weren’t cozying up to Hermione just to get under Draco’s skin. You were doing it to rile us up too.” 

“It worked. I’ve been hard as fuck all night. The way you teased Granger had me thinking vile thoughts.” 

“So I’m not enough for you, Matty?” You jested, pouting your bottom lip at your boyfriend. “You want Draco’s girl too?” 

Within the blink of an eye, you were pinned underneath Mattheo with your arms raised above your head as your boyfriend glared down at you. “No. If anything, you’re the one flirting with Granger like Theo and I aren’t enough to handle already. Maybe we should remind you who you belong to.” 

You hummed in agreement, biting back a smile. “Hmm, maybe you’re right, querido. I’m not opposed to a little refresher.” 

Theo shook his head in disbelief. “Fucking hell, bella. You just want to be railed until you cry, don’t you? Such a little brat. You could’ve just asked for what you wanted.”

You batted your lashes in response. “But it’s so much more fun this way.” 

As retaliation, Mattheo flipped you over on all fours. With a smirk, he leaned back on the headboard and pushed down his gray heathered sweatpants as Theo crawled behind you. He gave no warning as he bunched up your nightdress, pressing a filthy kiss against your clothed sex. You were dripping for him, coating his lips with your taste as he pushed your head down on Mattheo’s lap. You groaned as Mattheo pumped himself between slender fingers, tapping the tip of his cock against your lips. He bucked into your mouth just as Theo plunged his tongue between your folds. 

“What was that, principessa?” Theo hummed against your aching cunt. “Matty and I can’t hear you over all that moaning.” 

Mattheo laughed meanly as he gathered your hair in his fist, thrusting down your throat with a choked moan. “Put that smart mouth to work, sweetheart.” He thrust in lazily, barely giving you his tip. “Spit on it.” 

Glancing up at him through your lashes, you spit on Mattheo’s cock and watched as his head lolled against the headboard. “Teddy? Wanna give me a hand, pretty boy?”

With wide eyes, you gasped as Theo leaned over and pumped Mattheo in his hand before lining up his length against your lips. Theo kissed your cheek before shoving your head down to take inch after inch. Once Mattheo slid all the way in, he pulled out just to slam back in forcefully. You could feel Mattheo hitting the back of your throat, activating your gag reflex while he smirked in satisfaction. 

“Gonna shut the fuck up and take my cock like a good little slut, aren’t you?” 

You nodded, tears forming in your eyes as Mattheo continued to fuck your throat. As if that weren’t enough, Theo flicked his tongue on your clit and feasted on you from behind like a starved man. He took his sweet time, sloppily making out with your pussy and lapping up your arousal before slipping a finger inside, pumping you as you gagged on Mattheo’s cock. You groaned as Theo pried your legs apart, his intense gaze never leaving your face as he kissed the inside of your thighs. Hooking your right leg over his shoulder, Theo began licking and teasing, his tongue flicking through your folds with expert precision. He sucked hard, lapping your juices up with fervent devotion. 

The potion increased the sensations tenfold, intensifying your pleasure as you bucked against Theo’s face. It seems that your less than innocent academic pursuit had truly paid off because both Theo and Mattheo seemed to be affected just as much. The current of the concoction surged through all three of you, slamming you with wave after wave of heady desire. It felt better than drunk sex or fucking while you were high. This was just unbridled lust and want, flooding you with the need to be nothing but an obedient fuck toy for your favorite boys. 

Mascara streaked down your cheeks as you cried out for more, fisting the sheets as your boyfriends occupied both of your needy holes. The cries of pleasure were muffled around Mattheo’s cock. Your boyfriend’s breathing grew ragged and his grip grew tighter, his abs rippling as he shot hot ribbons down your throat. 

“Good girl. So fucking beautiful, swallowing every drop of my cum like a perfect little whore. You’re flawless, Y/N.”

Theo made quick work of you afterwards. Warmth spread from your core, hot tendrils snaking all over your body as he pushed you to your first orgasm of the night. When Theo crooked his middle and pointer finger inside your gummy walls, you squirted into his mouth with a cry. Despite your cries of pleasure, Theo showed no signs of stopping. His cool breath fanned over your sensitive sex and you whimpered at his ravenous appetite, squirming away from Theo’s tongue. Displeased, Theo flipped you onto your back and dragged you towards him by the ankles. 

“I’m not done with you, tesoro.” 

Your boyfriend growled and glanced at Mattheo. “Hold her down,” Theo commanded, his pretty eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re done when I say you’re done. Sit back, look pretty, and let me eat your pussy until you’re sobbing. I’ll make you feel so good, bella. Surely you have another one in you, don’t you, Y/N?” 

You nodded, still reeling from the aftershock of your orgasm. Mattheo placed you on his lap, prying your lips open with his fingers. “Theo asked you a question, princess. Use your words.” 

Theo smirked. “Give her a minute. I think I’ve fucked her so dumb with my mouth and fingers that she can’t even form a sentence.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Mattheo said with a chuckle. He caressed your jaw, pressing kisses against your shoulder. “Don’t you want to cum again, sweetheart? Either way, you don’t really have a choice. Theo’s going to feast on you no matter what you say. You know he hates being teased.”

“I can take it,” you said in a shaky voice. “I’ll be good, I promise. I just want to make you both proud.” 

Theo smiled, revealing the dimples you loved so much. “I know you do, Y/N. We’re not stopping until you’ve soaked the sheets. Now come on, be a good girl and sit on my face.”

You swallowed thickly as Theo switched places with you, laying back on Mattheo’s lap while bringing your hips forward. Steadying yourself on Mattheo’s shoulder, you slowly lowered onto Theo’s face. You grinded against him slowly at first, minding your sensitive sex, but it wasn’t long before you were bucking into his mouth, riding his face like you’d ride his cock.

There was no other word to describe Theo but feral. He gorged himself on you, poking and prodding your wet cunt with his tongue and fingers until your head fell onto Mattheo’s neck, gasping against his skin while Theo’s fingers dug into your hips. You groaned as Mattheo kissed you roughly, whimpering at the overwhelming pressure already building in your core. 

As your moans and screams grew louder and louder, Mattheo gagged your mouth with his fingers, shoving his middle and pointer finger past your lips in an attempt to muffle the noise. 

“Are you trying to wake the whole castle up, princess?” 

“Let her,” Theo said, chuckling darkly as he wrapped his lips around your clit. “Let the whole castle hear what a desperate little slut she is for us.” 

You groaned as Theo picked up the pace, fucking you with his tongue until you were coming undone in his mouth. The second orgasm was an out of body experience. Stars exploded behind your eyes as you came with a cry. You could’ve sworn that you went to heaven and back.

As you collapsed backwards into Theo’s arms, your boyfriend grabbed you by the throat and kissed you. The taste of you lingered on his tongue and your eyes rolled back as Theo’s lips claimed yours. He chuckled when you chased his kisses. 

“Don’t be greedy, pretty girl. Matty wants a taste too.” 

Your lips parted in surprise as Theo grabbed the back of Mattheo’s head and kissed him hard, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip and they both groaned. Theo smiled into the kiss, savoring the taste. He patted Mattheo’s cheek before pulling you into his lap. 

“Such a good girl for us, aren’t you?” Theo cooed, caressing your cheek and rewarding you with neck kisses. “I love when you ride my face. You’re fucking perfect. I’m so proud of you, pretty girl.” 

“Don’t go all soft now, cariño.” Mattheo teased, licking away the remnants of you from the corner of his mouth. “We’re only getting started. We haven’t even fucked her yet.” 

Theo smiled down at you, wiping away the mascara streaks clinging to your cheeks. “Then by all means. Finish the job you started, Matty.”

“I intend to,” Mattheo replied as he loomed over you.

With a wink, Theo spread your legs apart and presented your sopping wet cunt to Mattheo like a present. He reached down and rubbed his middle and pointer finger against your clit, holding your hips in place as you arched off the bed. 

“Look at that. Pretty little pussy’s all nice and wet for us,” Theo said with a chuckle. “You’re so eager, aren’t you? So insatiable, dolcezza. Maybe Mattheo and I should give you a double dose. Fuck you at the same time.” 

“Yes,” you breathed, mewling as Theo continued rubbing lazy circles against your clit. “Please, please, I need it.” 

“Just a cockhungry little slut. You’re fucking greedy, mi amor. Begging for both of our cocks. Don’t worry, baby. We’ll give you what you want. Fill you up like you need.” 

You whimpered in response as Mattheo manhandled you, pushing your face into the pillows while he lifted your perky arse in the air. He kneaded your ass, rubbing his cock along your folds. When you grinded against him for more, Mattheo’s palm landed on your right cheek with a hard smack. As you looked behind you, Theo winked before slapping your left cheek. The sting of his palm burned against your skin, making your eyes water. 

“What’s the matter, bella? I thought you wanted to play.”

“I do,” you breathed, gripping the sheets. “Please, Teddy. I need more. Spank me harder.” 

“Dirty girl,” Theo said fondly. “Ask and you shall receive.” 

As his palm came down on your ass over and over again, you gasped for breath, chasing air while Mattheo lined himself up at your entrance. Theo leaned down to kiss the handprints on your arse, biting softly and embedding his mark onto your skin before mirroring Mattheo’s actions. Theo teased against your puckering hole and nodded at the curly headed boy beside him. 

He placed a soft kiss on Mattheo’s lips. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Mattheo responded with a grin. 

You braced yourself to take both of them, gripping the sheets while they filled you simultaneously. It was a tight fit and you could feel both of your boyfriends stretching your walls.

“Such a good girl,” Theo groaned, moving slowly so you could adjust to his girth. “Letting Matty and I stretch you wide open. Fuck, I love being inside of you. It feels like fucking heaven, tesoro.”

Mattheo groaned in agreement. “Your pussy’s so wet. Does it turn you on to be ruined like this?” You cried in pleasure, mewling as Mattheo took Theo’s hand and placed it on your lower abdomen. “Feel that, mi corazón. Can you feel me fuck her deep, rearranging her insides?” 

“Merda, you two are going to be the death of me.” Theo said, his dead eyes rolling back. “Fuck me, I could cum just watching Matty move inside of you, Y/N.” 

As the two of them moved in sync, you gasped and panted, tears streaming down your cheeks from the overstimulation. There were so many sensations all at once, overloading your senses, making you writhe and whimper while your boyfriends ruined you. Mattheo tilted your chin, praises dripping from his lips, sweat slicked skin glimmering a pretty golden shade in the dim light. 

The hard planes of his abdominal muscles rippled while he fucked you from behind, grasping at the base of your throat until you were gasping for air. “Who’s pussy is this?” Mattheo growled into your ear, his curls tickling your cheek while he released a ragged breath. “Who do you belong to, Y/N?” 

“You and Theo,” you breathed. “Only you and Theo.” 

Theo smiled at your answer, lacing your fingers together. “That’s right, principessa. You’re ours to love, to fuck, to worship. Don’t forget that.” 

“Oh gods,” you moaned, gripping Theo’s hand while wrapping your fingers around the hand that Mattheo had around your neck. “I’m yours and you’re both mine.” 

“Damn fucking right,” Mattheo said with a sharp thrust. 

As Mattheo’s breathing grew more ragged, you and Theo both knew that he would succumb first. Theo fisted Mattheo’s curls in one hand and pulled him in for a filthy kiss, swallowing the cry that left his lips as he came inside of you. The sensation of him filling you up was too much to handle and the orgasm rocked your body, making your limbs seize as that familiar white hot heat blinded your senses. 

Theo was the last to cum, pulling out of your sensitive hole so that Mattheo could wrap his lips around his cock. His endurance was rewarded with vulgar noises as Mattheo gripped his hips in place and sucked him dry.

When your third and final orgasm ran its course, you found yourself laying flat on your back, blinking back up at the ceiling as you regained control of your senses. Through the haze, you blinked and found Theo and Mattheo fussing over you, casting a cleansing spell and wiping your damp forehead with a clean cloth. With a smile, they both leaned in and kissed your cheeks before tucking you safely between them. You hummed, placing a gentle kiss on both of their foreheads. 

“You know you two are all I need, right?” 

Your boyfriends both nodded, curling against you. “Of course, mi corazón.” 

“You’re all we need too, cuore mio.”

Taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings  @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis  @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies  @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows  @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt  @daydreamingabthar @therealallisonspear @athenalikethegoddess @clairesjointshurt @vixzwrites @elle4404 @dramaticals @slut4riddle @berryzxx @finalgirllx @peterpan-neverfails @jayybugg @ashisabitgay @goldenmagnolias @atadoddinnit @rafesmuse @thames-fig @theeslutintheroom @bunnymallowo @athenapotter @dracosmalfxy @moonflowersandsparkles @unlikelysadgirl @txzii @cruxxio

[yaymiyas]

ISEKAI!YANDERE!CROWN PRINCE INTRODUCTION

warning: female reader, his name is saer…just so you can follow a bit lol, isekai lol

a/n: it’s structured a bit differently than my other introductions, do note that yes this is x reader but you had gotten isekai’d into a novel so….i do say her name but…..you’re also you…..if that makes sense, also he is hardly in it but its like….an introduction to the story bc its…an isekai and i needed to layout how i wanted everything to be

its not like you didn’t realize something was up. bright white lights blind you right when you open your eyes. maids coming in and out, calling you ‘miss’ and telling you not to sit up because ‘it will harm you even more’. granted, you were very thankful for their words because, around ten minutes before they came in, you attempted to sit up and gave yourself a headache. even though nobody was explaining anything, you remained quiet, trying to gather as much information from the surrounding maids as possible. the red-haired one with tight curls and an everlasting smile was amanda. she seemed to like you much, more than the other two, and tended to you more carefully. maybe she was your personal maid,or maybe she was just good at her job, but she never let up and called you your ‘name’.

admittedly, none of the other two maids called you your ‘name’ either. it was all just ma’am or miss from them. you just expected a hint of your identity from amanda, based solely on her care for you. selfish? maybe but you needed more hints. the other maids are named cynthia and tilly. the former of the two had long black hair slicked into a low bun, with a small maids hair on top to finish the look. it was a cute detail, if you must say, since the other two didn’t wear them. cynthia hardly spoke above a shout, coming off as more soft-spoken than the other two. she wasn’t really rude, nor did she have an attitude while tending to you, but she wore an expression of indifference that made you think she would rather do anything else.

tilly, on the other hand, was more bold than the other two. still not outwardly rude, but she tested your patience a few times. the main one that got to you though, was when she was rubbing your face. while she was washing off your face with the washcloth, she rubbed against your cheeks too hard, and upon this ‘realization’ she gave you a malevolent grin. her thin lips formed an o shape, mimicking the action of saying ‘oops’. luckily, it seemed as if amanda and cynthia didn’t really care for this ‘prank’ of hers. they both scoffed in disgust, continuing to pick out outfits for me to wear for the day ahead.

a soft but stern knock was heard at the door, revealing a man with black slick back hair and yellow eyes to put the look all together. he reminded you of those webtoon male leads that were cold but female audiences loved. being a sucker for those types, you raised your neck up, making sure to keep your body in the same supine position. the man standing at the foot of your bed looked down at you with an expression that you couldn’t read. an expression that wasn’t scary but wasnt welcoming. tapping along the footboard of the bed, he let out a low sigh out that resembled a growl and turned around to leave. tilly, amanda, and cynthia didn’t acknowledge the man. neither did he to them. the only thing that could resemble an interaction between the four of them was when tilly and amanda gave small bows and the slight side eye cynthia gave before going back inside your closet to look for something.

“madam,”

thats a new one.

“lord saer would like you to have breakfast with him today.”

lifting your head enough to turn your focus towards amanda, you started to guess your facial expression was a bit too expressive because amanda started to giggle. the pain in your body wasn’t really high; it was more the numbness that bothered you. moving your neck and head didn’t really take much strength, it was attempting to move your legs that was the problem. walking towards you in a shift movement, amanda placed the rich, deep purple hair piece down on top of the dress set she had picked out for you. upon arrival, she softly removed your blanket and shifted your body into a sitting position. you felt like a doll.

“okay now miss, i will be lifting you up to wash you now.”

placing her right arm underneath the backs of your knees and her left arm supporting your neck, she quickly moved you to the area you’re assuming was the bathroom. the door to the large room was already open, since once she had lifted you up, cynthia had pushed the door open and walked in herself. the room was massive, twice the size of a normal person’s kitchen. the walls and floor tiles were both the same shade of pale pink, matching the sleeping set you had on. amanda sat you down in a chair and started to strip you down. while she was doing that, the other was running the bath water and testing if it was safe enough. every time the water was a bit too hot or too cold, you saw cynthia’s eyes squeeze shut.

“alright madam edina,”

cynthia sighed, standing up from the clam shaped tub.

“it’s all set for you. please do not make it hard as you have always done.”

not sparing you even a small look, she and amanda were already picking you up and guiding you into the tub. quietly instructing you to lay back, wet, cold liquid found its way both on your scalp and on your legs. edina? are you sure thats what she said? the only edina you knew of was the villainess from the hit novel “obsession falls”. you never really read the book, but you knew of the characters and the content that surrounded it. it was rather controversial for how obsessive and dangerous the male lead was. he had stalked the female lead for years, and it didn’t stop once he got married. with a wife so dismissive and uninterested, the male lead was given all the time in the world to go hunt his prey.

unfortunately for him, once edina randomly started to care about what her husband was doing during the day he had to slowly stop. losing the love of his life to the second male lead, alastair. due to this very random string of events, saer had grown irritated by the events his wife was clumsily stringing together. he then decided to take care of his wife, edina. the night before he was to go and kill alastair, he had poisoned the dinner he had helped make for his wife. from your memory, this was one of the few times in years he had asked his wife to sit at the table and eat with him. she would usually just take her food into her room separately. this night, edina came into the dining room with her most expensive jewelry and dress. she thought this was the night her husband was going to admit his faults and leave the female lead for her. however, what actually ended up happening was that the moment she took a bite out of her steak, her vision went black and her head banged on the table.

focusing on the soft brushes of your hair, you start to put the pieces together. you don’t remember the faces of any of the characters in the story, you just remember the basic blot and conflict. if what cynthia said was true, that you are in fact edina tudor gwynn then that means the reasoning for your stiff body was because of your ‘husband’ trying to kill you. sharply sucking in some air, you seek strength within your legs. even though the lower half of your body was still partially numbed, the feeling of pins and needles filled the tip of your toes to the back of your knees. not wanting to cause much of a scene, even though you were sure she wouldn’t care much, you looked up to check to see if your maid was paying you any mind. cynthia was too focused on rinsing your body, while amanda stopped brushing your hair to grab towels for you.

“cynthia,”

it was amazing how you could even get that out. due to the affects of the poison, your throat had become overly dry and it hurt you to even swallow. that was mainly one of the reasons as to why you hardly spoke to them this morning. stopping in her tracks, she lazily turned her head into your direction. the woman didn’t have much of any emotion on her face. her eyelids halfway down, making it appear that she was tired or just bored. her lips were in a thin line. you had hardly seen her smile or really speak, so you started to believe this was just how her resting face looked like.

“why did he poison me?”

tilting her head a bit, cynthia’s facial expression changed. it was as if your question intrigued her. her low eyelids raised a bit, along side her eyebrows, as she tried to tame the smile that was creeping on her thin lips. this was the most expressive you have ever seen her. she began to part her lips when amanda came back through the door with the towels.

“perhaps this conversation will need to be revisited, my lady.”

[lovelettersfromluna]

Compass

Summary: I’ve got something to confess, I keep you in my pocket to use. You’re my only compass, I might get lost with you.

an: let’s ignore the fact that I’ve been gone for a long time, yeah? Hehe. this most definitely is not the fic that I’ve been working on literally the entire time I’ve been gone (that’s coming don’t worry), but I got this idea at 2 in the morning and I had to jump on it IMMEDIATELY. Hope you all like it mwah mwah love you.

Warnings: SMUT!! Minors please for the love of everything that is good, do not interact, modern day vampire!Ellie, semi graphic descriptions of blood and wounds, shy!reader, Ellie bites you a lot, Ellie feeds on you and honestly it’s borderline soft core porn, fingering Ellie!receiving, grinding, mentions of bruises, Ellie is extremely fucking strong, Ellie watches you in your sleep/can get into your apartment without a key, let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

You aren’t really sure how you and Ellie became friends.

Well, you are, maybe a better question would be why you two became friends. You were both so different, you were convinced the first time you met that she hated you. The night filled with quick glances as she damn near avoided speaking to you like you were the fucking plague. It took you a bit to not take it too personally, reminding yourself that you weren’t for everyone, and that was okay! So what if the mutual friend didn’t like you…it wasn’t the end of the world.

So, it came to a surprise to you when a few nights after meeting Ellie passed, you had not one, not two, but three of your friends texting you and asking you if it was okay if they gave her your number…

Because she’d asked for it.

And suddenly you’re texting each other every day, and well into the wee hours of the night. You know, like one of those friendships. The ones that makes you smile every time you see their name pop up on your phone, or the ones where you send each other stupid videos on TikTok all day just to talk about them on a different messaging platform, because of course you’re interacting with each other every where that you have a presence.

Ellie becomes your best friend before you even realize it, and it makes you realize that maybe she didn’t dislike you as much as you thought before.

It always did confuse you a bit in the beginning how you two got along so well. You were both so different from one another. Ellie was a party animal, you were a home body. Ellie was up late at night, you were up early in the morning. If Ellie was the moon, then you were the sun. Polar opposites coming together to find a home in one another, the most unusual pairing stuck by the hip from that point on.

You of course, kept all each other’s secrets. You’d learned very early on that no one really knew much about Ellie, which you simply chalked up to her being a private person. However, she seemed eager to tell you any and everything about her. Like her dad, she’d talk about him all the time, you figured on early on that she really loved him. Or whenever she had a a new fling going, you’d be the first to know of course. She’d even told you about the time she threw away her dad’s playboy magazine after stealing it from him, which she swore she’d never told a soul.

She wanted to know all about you too! Your favorite color, favorite animal, childhood crush, family relationships. Truthfully? If you weren’t so oblivious, you would’ve seen a long time ago that Ellie was the slightest bit obsessed with you.

But you loved her, and you trusted her with your life, so you told her everything! Because you didn’t keep things from each other.

So, on a night out with everyone else, Ellie disappears, and of course you try to look for her, asking around only to be told that everyone saw her leave. Going outside to make sure she’s okay is the only logical thing to do, right? You have to make sure she’s okay.

What you don’t expect though, is when you look down a dark alleyway a few buildings down from the club you’re at, and spot the tall figure of your friend tucked into the brick wall of the dark corner, shielding way whatever it is that’s behind her. You call out for her, and when she turns around you gasp.

Because her eyes were red, and not red like you haven’t gotten any sleep, or you’ve been crying, the green of her eyes are now red, bloodshot red, and she’s holding a lifeless body in her tattooed arms…and there’s blood covering her pink lips, dripping down her chin.

Yeah, Ellie was a vampire.

You let out a gentle yawn as your hand went down to grab the remote control to your tv, your other hand coming up to rub your eyes a bit, a sorry attempt at trying to wake yourself up enough to get from the couch to go to your bed.

You pouted softly, lazily bringing your phone up to check the time before you sighed, finally finding the strength in you to push yourself up off the couch to leave your living room.

Work had been absolutely plowing you into the ground, your publicist constantly hounding you to keep working on the most recent installment of your book series. It was just so fucking hard, everytime you sat down in front of your computer, it was like writing your own book was the last thing you wanted to do.

It was draining you, and it felt like every time you finished a set of chapters, your brain was complete mush.

The upside though, was that it tired you out enough to completely knock out once you were in bed.

A gentle sigh left your lips once your head hit your soft pillow, plush blankets wrapping around your body, sliding down your bare legs and making you feel absolutely blissful. You couldn’t even stop yourself from the soft smile on your lips as your eyes grey heavy, the low lighting in your room making you feel all the more cozy, all the more warm.

You were out in seconds, soft snores leaving your sleeping body as you entered a world of dreams, escaping reality for a few measly hours before you were bombarded with the real world around you in the morning.

Ellie was on the other side of town, or at least, leaving the other side of town. It was late, and while she did love to be a creature of the night, there was something that sounded much more inviting than a glass of whiskey and a cigarette.

You, of course.

You were Ellie’s kryptonite, the single thing in this entire fucked up world that convinced her there was something worth living for, in her case, existing for. You were so fucking good, so sweet, so forgiving of literally everything. There were too many times that Ellie recalled where she wasn’t even sure you were real, perhaps another mythical creature much like herself, sent to this world to lure others into a trap that was just as filthy and terrible as the rest of the world.

But you weren’t…there were never any cons or secrets that you held, and if you did hold any secrets, you were more than willing to let Ellie in on them. No…no you were different.

God were you different.

Ellie recalls the night she first laid eyes on you like it was yesterday, her cold, dead heart jolting back to life for only a second when she saw you, at least that’s what it felt like. Your smile radiant in the dim, multicolored lights of the club, cheeks shining, eyes twinkling, like an angel sent from above. Ellie almost felt like a being as evil, and sour as she wasn’t worthy of being in the same room as you.

And god…your fucking smell.

Ellie could go on about it for hours. Sure, you were remarkable without it, but it was just the icing on the cake, the twisting of the knife in her chest.

She has mastered the art of walking into a room filled with warm bodies pumped full of blood and while ago, her throat burning with the urge to sink her teeth into her next poor victim. It was easy, annoying, but easy, and she couldn’t really remember the last time she struggled being around anyone, especially friends, or even friends of a friend.

But the second she saw you, your sweet, dulcet smell wafting against her nose, she was transported back in time. Back to a time where she was but a young vampire, clueless of the world around her, of her new life, adapting to something she didn’t even know existed before all of this, without a single guide or a fucking pamphlet for gods sakes.

It made her eyes widen, and she stopped breathing instantly to try and dull the scent of you sneaking into her nostrils and down into her eager throat. She noticed the way you pouted and sighed whenever she’d ignore you, or give her nothing but a brief response whenever you tried to get to know her. She could tell this wasn’t your thing, the night life, partying, you were here because someone asked it of you, and you being the good friend you are would never let anyone you cared about down.

Despite Ellie being a total dick to you because she simply couldn’t control herself around you, you sucked it up, carried on and stayed until everyone else decided to leave.

Watching you leave that night, made Ellie realize you weren’t something she could pass up.

Asking for your number was probably the best thing Ellie had ever done in her immortal life. Speaking to you was far better than thinking about you constantly, and after she’d convinced herself she wouldn’t do anything stupid with you, she was finally ready to introduce herself to you, the right way.

It’s how she constantly found herself like this, searching for your warm embrace around her cold, dead body every time she found the opportunity. She’d come to you when she was done working, she’d come to you when the girls at the bar were boring her, she’d even come to you when she simply knew you were home and she had nothing to do.

Ellie hummed softly as she looked up at your apartment building, the warm summer breeze wafting against her skin as she stared up at your window, the white curtains blowing out with the wind. She sighs to herself.

“Told you to stop leaving your window open…” she mumbles softly to herself.

The human eye wouldn’t ever be able to catch the way Ellie climbs up the side of your building, her arms and legs scaling it like a pro, making it look as simple as walking, or even breathing. It’s too fast, and in the blink of an eye, she’s at your balcony, long fingers pulling back your curtains to get a look at your sleeping figure.

She watches as your chest rises and falls, your blanket covering your sleeping frame, bare legs kicked out from under them, shining under the moonlight. She isn’t sure how long she stays there at your window staring at you, watching in awe as you do something as simple as sleep.

It isn’t until you shift slightly in your sleep, a dreamy sigh leaving your lips, that Ellie finally pushes her long legs over your window to step into your room, sneaker clad feet pressing onto the wooden floor of your bedroom.

She looks around for a moment, taking a deep inhale as she lets your scent wash over her for a moment, eyes fluttering shut as she simply lets you consume her, fill her up and make her feel whole again.

Make her feel alive again.

You never really understood it, why Ellie lingered when she hugged you, face pressed at the nape of your neck, swaying you slowly as she clung to you longer than normal. Well…you did know, at least you’d find out later on when Ellie finally explained everything to you…what she was, how it happened.

Although, it was only half what you thought. Sure, the smell of your blood made Ellie’s mouth water, her nostrils flare and her throat burn, but it was so much more than that. You made her feel whole, and even if it were a few seconds, she was going to make the most of it every time she got the chance.

And that’s what she felt when she was in your little room. The cool breeze filling up the space, the dim lights casting a warm glow over you because you couldn’t sleep in the dark. You used the excuse of creating an ambiance for yourself when you slept, but Ellie knew you far better than that. It was like you’d perfected the feeling of comfort, bottled it up and sprayed it around your room every other day.

The wind blowing your curtains a bit harder caught Ellie’s attention, and she sighed softly as she walked over to it and shut it. She had told you time and time again to quit it, warning you about the weirdos that would love to take advantage of a pretty girl with her window open while in the most vulnerable state.

Even though the only weirdo that ever snuck into your room through said window, was Ellie. If anything, your little habit only fueled Ellie’s addiction for you further.

The sound of your window closing makes you groan softly in your sleep, and at that sound, Ellie knows she’s done it.

While she wanted nothing more than for you to be awake when she came over, she hated waking you. You looked so fucking serene when you slept, and Ellie felt like the devil himself whenever she accidentally ripped you away from that, even if the only thing she wanted was for you to be awake and talking to her.

Your body twists and turns a bit, slowly finding its way out of the drowsy state of sleep you were in. You let out a gentle yawn before one of your hands come up to rub your eyes, moments before you turn to your side to face her, hand resting between your cheek and your pillow as your eyes open and focus on the tall frame standing in front of your bed.

Ellie is convinced nothing scares you, because for as long as she’d been doing this, sneaking into your bedroom and watching you sleep, on the rare occasion that you wake up and catch her, you never seem scared. You don’t gasp or scream, you don’t even flinch when you see the dark, looming presence stood there in front of you. Ellie was sure the first time you caught her there, that you’d scream in horror before calling the police on her.

But you never did. You always stared at her with a sleepy smile, eyes puffy with sleep, lips a bit swollen, looking at her as if she were your favorite person in the entire world.

And like all those nights before, you do the same. A gentle yawn falls from your lips as you rub your eyes once more before tugging your blanket further up your shoulder.

“Ellie…” you sigh out softly, and you sound so fucking dreamy, so beautiful does her name sound falling from her lips. It makes Ellie weak in the knees.

She walks over to you slowly, smiling softly down at you as she grows closer and closer to your bed until she’s standing over you, one of her hands coming down and running around your blanket clad shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Wanted to come visit…sorry I woke you” she hums soft, her hand traveling up until it reaches your face, one of her fingers caressing your cheek ever so slightly. Your eyes flutter shut at this, and she can see that the gesture alone is nearly enough to lull you back to sleep.

“S’okay…I wake up in the middle of the night all the time…you know that” you assure her, words falling with yet another yawn before you open your sleepy eyes up again to stare up at her.

Before she can even speak though, your content expression is replaced with one of worry as you finally get the chance to focus on her face, your eyebrows furrowing as you prop yourself up on your elbow, your other hand reaching up to touch her cheek as you become more and more alert with each passing moment.

“Are you okay Ellie? You look…why are your eyes so…” you mumble, now on your knees to reach her better, your face in front of hers as your eyes search hers.

She looked pale, paler than usual. Her lips were chapped, eyes dull and sunken in, she looked like she hadn’t slept in centuries, like all the life had been sucked out of her. And while that technically was the case, Ellie often looked vibrant for her dead state, eyes sharp and alert, green eyes almost fluorescent with color when you looked into them.

Immediately, you know what was wrong.

“When’s the last time you…had something to eat?” You ask sternly, eyebrows furrowed and a firm frown on your pouty lips.

That was another thing…Ellie hadn’t properly fed in about two weeks, going on three now.

She let out a gentle sigh, her hands resting on your hips as your own rested on her cheeks, cupping her face and forcing her to look into your eyes even though she avoided eye contact.

She hated when you saw her this way, so weak, so small. She liked it when she was the best version of herself, the version that was well fed, agile and strong. Not like this, not like when she was turning into a shell of the woman she once was.

“I…it’s just been a few nights, angel…it’s no big deal” she tries, giving your hips a firm squeeze as she attempts to convince you that she was fine. However her appearance and her voice is a dead giveaway that she’s lying, the sound hoarse and scratchy, sounding as if she’d been clawing at her throat for days to ease the pain she felt.

“You can’t lie to me, Ellie. You look horrible” you scold the girl.

She lets out a sigh, and she almost feels ashamed of herself. Sure, there were times where a meal was a bit harder to come by, people becoming a bit more aware of the danger that lingered when she was near, but god, Ellie couldn’t remember a time where it was this bad. It was like every single time she got someone in her arms, trapped in her little scheme, something cock blocked her entirely from finishing the deed.

And the more times that happened, the weaker she got.

“I’ve just been really unlucky…okay? Most of us do this in packs or with a fucking partner at least…it gets tricky when you’re on your own” she finally admitted, a gentle sigh falling from her lips as she leaned down to rest her head against your shoulder, pressing her weight against you in the process, as it was slowly becoming unbearable to hold it up herself at this point.

“M’just going through a thing right now, baby…don’t worry about it” she mumbled against you, lips ghosting over your soft skin as she again tried to assure you she’d been fine.

Ellie had always made it a point to never get as low as this, and if she did, she made it a point to never let you see her. What would her sweet best friend think of her if the monster she truly was had the chance to shine through? How would you ever allow her in your presence again once you finally realized how disgusting she truly was?

What Ellie didn’t know, is that you didn’t think any of those things. You could never find her to be a monster or disgusting, you adored her far too much to ever see her that way. No, what you did think when you saw her that way, were any of the things you could do to help her. That was the only thing you wanted, to help her.

You don’t even think twice before you say it, giving yourself a moment to mull over the idea and weigh out the pros and cons before it’s escaping the confides of your mind and making its debut out into your bedroom.

“Feed on me” you blurt out, so quickly you aren’t even sure Ellie fully catches it properly.

But she does, Ellie hears every word, every syllable, she can even hear the way your heart beat quickens after you’ve said it.

She’s slowly lifting her head from your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed and lips frowning as she stares down at you, your eyes wide and hopeful, hopeful that she’ll take the offer, that she’ll allow you to give yourself to her for the sake of her wellbeing.

“No.” She deadpans without a second thought. She doesn’t even give herself a second to indulge in the idea of it, knowing how badly it could end, how terrible it could be with one wrong move, or one gulp too much. Ellie knows that this is nothing to toy with, especially with you.

You’re quickly shaking your head once she rejects your offer, your hands falling from her face to rest down on her shoulders, leaning in a bit to press your body closer to hers.

“Ellie…look at yourself. How were you even able to climb up here?” You plead with the girl, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze before you inhale deeply.

“I’m giving you permission…I want you to do this” your words almost come out like a beg, wanting nothing more than to simply help the girl, to help a friend in need that clearly needed it.

And you knew deep down, that no matter what, Ellie would never hurt you.

Ellie knew it too. She knew that she wouldn’t go too far to take your life away from you. She had been around long enough to have the self control to stop whenever she knew you’d had too much.

However, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be hard.

She inhaled deeply, giving your hips a gentle squeeze before she finally brought her own eyes up to look into yours. Her pink tongue darted out to run along her lips, wetting the chapped skin before she let out a gentle sigh.

“You’ll tell me when it becomes too much…right?” She asks, desperate for confirmation from you that you won’t let her go too far, even if she wanted to.

You give her a bright smile, a gentle giggle leaving your lips as you nod. “I will…now go on…sooner you do this, the sooner I can sleep” you tease her playfully, which makes her groan softly with a pout.

She sighed softly, reaching forward and pushing your hair to the side to expose the soft, supple skin of your neck. Her eyes zeroed in on it, and she could practically see your pulse from beneath your skin, making her shudder at the thought of it. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your throat, which earns a gentle sigh from you.

“This’ll hurt…” she mumbles against you, peppering your skin with gentle kisses. You simply tilt your head further to the side, resting your temple against her shoulder as your arms hang loosely around her neck, your body pressed against hers.

“Mm…I’ll be okay” you mumble out sleepily, your fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of her neck.

Ellie can feel the way your pulse slows under her lips, and she has to stop herself from groaning due to how fucking strong your smell was right now with your body pressed against hers. She knew that the longer the stood her, mouthing away at your neck instead of actually feeding, she’d just keep you from getting back to the rest that she had interrupted in the first place.

It was now or never.

She sighed softly, swallowing thickly before she opened her mouth a bit wider, fangs protruding out from her gums and taking their rightful place. She let them graze your skin, the sharp teeth sure to leave scratches from something as small as a graze, before she finally latched her lips to your throat, and sunk her teeth into your flesh.

Now…Ellie had her fair share of tasty meals within her immortal life time. There were maybe a handful of people that left a faint memory in her head, better than most of the others she’d fed on in her past, so she was no stranger to a warm body with a nice taste.

But you? God….there was nothing in this world that could’ve prepared Ellie for how fucking…divine you taste. It was like liquid gold on her tongue, the smell that had plagued her mind from the moment she met you a mere tease to the real deal. It made Ellie moan against you, her eyes fluttering shut as her tattooed hands clawed at your waist, gripping the skin so tightly she was sure to leave bruises, pressing you flush against her body.

She could practically feel the essence of your life filling her up and bringing all of her strength back, replacing the once empty, dull feeling in her body with one that could only be described as rejuvenation. The taste you gave her flowing into her mouth and making her feel like she’d died and gone to heaven.

The noises you made only aided Ellie in her blissful state, tiny moans and huffs leaving your lips as you continued massaging her scalp with gentle fingers, allowing her to take whatever she needed from you.

Ellie knew she could’ve drained you, taken every last drop of your life and left you dry. She could do it ten times over if it were an option, however it wasn’t, and she knew at the back of her head she could only take what she needed, and nothing more. So she knew once your grip around her neck loosened a bit, that she needed to stop.

She unlatched from your neck breathlessly, your crimson blood painting her plush lips, red eyes blown out wide as she eyed the damage she’d done to your poor neck, the punctures filling Ellie’s chest with a sense of pride as some of your blood and her saliva dripped down the base of your throat. She leaned in, licking you clean before pressing a gentle kiss to the wound, groaning softly as when she heard you hum softly.

“All…finished?” You mumbled out with a dreamy smile on your lips, eyes half lidded as you stared up at the girl who had just nearly sucked you dry.

Ellie stared down at you with a look of disbelief, the back of her hand coming up and wiping her lips. “You said you’d tell me to stop…” she groaned softly as she gently set you down to lay back on your bed.

You let out a soft yawn, nodding as you tugged your blanket up with a weak hand to drape over your body. “I was…you stopped sooner than anticipated” you giggled out sleepily before you eyed the girl from your bed, already feeling the drowsy affects of sleep taking over.

“You look better already, El…” your compliment made her dead heart swell. She could feel it too, your life coursing through her veins and bringing back all of the good aspects of being immortal, the strength, the radiance, all of it brought back because of you.

She chuckled softly at your words, walking over to your closet and grabbing your first aid kit, fishing a little band aid out before walking back towards you. She sat at the edge of the bed, her pointer and middle finger pushing your jaw up slightly to get a look at the wound she’d given you.

“Here…so you don’t get blood on your pillow” she explains as she pressed the bandaid to your neck. You simply hum in response, and Ellie knows you’re probably already asleep. Between being tired before all of this, and losing blood, she expected for you to be out like a light long before she bid you a goodnight.

She stays a bit longer after you’ve fallen asleep, her long limbs crawling over your body to lay in bed with you, marveling at the way the color returned to your body, the way your chest rose and fell slowly, the way your lips would part with a gentle sigh ever so often. She’d let her hands caress your skin, watching as goosebumps appeared to trail after them. She simply appreciated how human you were, how warm and responsive you were even during sleep.

She leaves once the sun begins to peak above the horizon, knowing you’d want your privacy when you woke up in a few hours. She makes sure to close your window after she’s left too, scaling down the building much quicker than she did when she first arrived.

And while she walks home, the sun slowly casting a warm glow onto the city she lived in, she knew that she’d made a mistake by feeding on you.

Because now? She was completely and utterly ruined for anyone else that she’d feed on after you.

Bloodlust

The word had entirely different meaning for those like Ellie, creatures of the night that fed on the essence of life, the scarlet, metallic liquid that flowed and pumped throughout the bodies of the living.

She had heard of it happening to other vampires, in an instance of finding the human being that acted as a drug to them, making it hard to function without their taste on their tongues. It was an occasion that only ever happened when there was a mutual agreement between a vampire and a human, a hunter/prey proposition that acted in a more…ethical way.

It consumed the one feeding, making it hard to function without the person near, almost creating an inseparable bond between the two, paired with a constant line of food with it as well. It took over nearly everything, mind, body, soul, all of it belonging to the person they fed on, the human often times having more control over the vampire.

Ellie never really believed in it, instead viewing blood as something that was of and in itself, the same all the time. Sure, there were some people that tasted better than others, but blood was blood, no matter who the person was, they were more or less all the same at the end of the day. A meal was a meal, and that was that.

So if that was true, why were you the only thing on Ellie’s mind every waking second after the night she fed on you?

You were always on Ellie’s mind before it all, lingering at the back, making her smile when she thought of something silly you’d said to her earlier in the week, face beaming whenever you’d send a text her way, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that you were on her mind.

She thought of it constantly, the way you were so…so fucking eager for her, a sense of intimacy lingering in the air of an act so selfless. Your pouty lips parted as you moaned and sighed her name, her lips attached to your neck as you gave her everything. Feeding was always something that felt the slightest bit romantic, the closeness of it all.

But you…doing it with you was different than anything she’d ever experienced.

She knew it meant nothing to you, she knew that it was simply you being a good friend, which meant it was borderline wrong for her to take it any way other than what it was, but she couldn’t help herself. She could still taste you on her tongue when she got home, plopping down into her bed and staring up at the ceiling in her dark room as she felt her core tighten and flutter as she referenced back to the memory.

Ellie couldn’t help herself when she unbuttoned her jeans, slipped her hands down to cup her pussy, and caught her aching clit against her calloused fingers to give it some much needed attention.

And she moaned your name as if it were the only word in her vocabulary, blubbering and crying out for you as she angrily fucked her aching pussy, eyebrows furrowed to the point where she almost looked upset.

“F-fuck….that’s my fucking girl…that’s it…gonna cum all over your pretty fuckin’ face” she groaned out, picturing you settled between her legs, eagerly lapping at her weeping core, grinding down onto your face and giving you everything she had, much like you did when you allowed her to feed on you.

She’d cum with your name falling from her lips, back arching as her hips rolled against her palm, sopping wet cunt painting her slick all over her hand, making it hard to even keep it where she needed it with how wet she was, how fucking riled up you had her.

And she’d do it again, lying in her bed and thinking of the memory over and over again, hanging on to the sound of your voice sighing out her name, moaning for her as she licked her lips, searching for the taste of your blood still soaked on them. All while you were sound asleep in your apartment where she left you.

If Ellie thought she was drawn to you before, she was sorely mistaken. Because now? All she could do was crave you. It interrupted her day to day, made her brain foggy when she wasn’t with you or talking to you.

And soon? It became a habit.

Ellie was at your door every other night, long fingers searching for your hips to pull you closer as she pressed her face into your neck, tongue slipping out of her mouth to run along the now permanent marks on your neck, whispering in your ear about how badly she needed you.

It had become a bit of a routine, Ellie would come over, you’d let her feed on you until she saw fit, she’d go home and fuck herself, and then she would live in her own personal hell for the next few days that she wasn’t able to see you.

It’s how she found herself dragging her body down the hallway to your apartment, a heavy hand coming up to the door and giving it a firm knock.

When you answer, Ellie thinks you look like a dream. Your body is leaned up against the door, head resting against it as you give her a dreamy smile, oversized t-shirt hanging off of one of your shoulders, sleep shorts barely visible beneath the end of the shirt, hugging your ass so perfectly, your white socks bunched up at your ankles.

She has to bite back the moan that threatens to escape when she lays eyes on you.

“Mm…hi Ellie” your voice sounds like the sweetest melody, and she’s smiling sheepishly as she walks towards you, bending her knees a bit as she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you flush against her tall frame, nearly light you up off the ground completely.

“There she is…” she sighed against you, and it sounds like Ellie can finally breath, like the weight holding her back from breathing in the air she so desperately needed has finally been granted to her, it makes you giggle softly.

You wrap your arms around her neck, humming softly as your fingers come up to tangle in her hair, simultaneously pulling her into your apartment. She kicks the door closed behind her, arms still wrapping you up and keeping you close.

She keeps you close, her head coming up to take a look at the set up you have going in that she’s walked in to. She can tell you’ve been working on your book, your laptop set on your couch paired with your favorite blanket, and a mug set on your coffee table that was still steaming.

“Working on the book?” She asked softly, you nod as you turn around in your arms, and excited smile on your face as you walk over to your spot, clicking the keypad a few times before you shut it.

“Yup. I’m getting pretty far….was wrapping it up right before you came over” you practically beamed.

Ellie always found it so endearing how dedicated you were to your work, and rightfully so, Ellie reminded you time and time again that she’d lived through many eras of famous writers, but you always topped them ten times over and then some. She’d never let you forget the talent you had was rare.

You plopped down on your couch after sliding your laptop into its little compartment under your coffee table, your legs coming up to cross over each other as you pat the spot next to you eagerly, to which she easily obliged of course.

Her old denim jacket rustled a bit as she sat down, resting her back against your couch as she slouched down a bit, legs spread as she stares up at you through the dim, cozy lighting of your living room.

You giggle softly, resting your cheek against your palm as you look down at her. “What are you staring at? You’re looking at me like I’m something to eat…” your words trail off, eyes narrowing at the girl playfully before you sit up, crossing your arms.

“Did you come all the way here to get a free meal out of me, Williams?” Your tone is accusing, but playful, and it makes Ellie chuckle as she bring her tattooed hands up to rub up and down her face before she groans.

“When you say it like that it sounds bad….I see it as seeing my favorite person with something extra added into it…” she defends herself before chuckling, looking back at you as she tugs her bottom lip into her mouth, sucking gently on the plump skin, letting her mind linger to imagine it was your lips she was sucking on instead as her eyes slowly zeroed in on them, similar to if she were under a spell.

“You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to…” she mumbled out softly, voice gentle and truthful.

It was true, Ellie would cut all of this out the second you made even the slightest signal that you were tired of it, or if your body simply couldn’t handle it anymore. She knew that she’d never use you as her personal blood bag. The minute you wanted out, you got it, no questions asked.

You give her a gentle smile though, shaking your head as you shifted your body a bit so that it was now laying down on the end of the couch opposite of Ellie, your head resting against one of the plush pillows you had next to you while you were writing. You spread your legs a bit, making space for Ellie to crawl into before you stretched your arms out for her, a silent call for the girl to come closer.

“I’ll always give it to you, El…you know that. Come…” you call her again with a slight flick of your wrist.

Your words make Ellie’s head swirl, all of it sounding, and feeling, much too similar to something else, something more than just a friend helping another friend out. It sounds like you’re giving something else to her, something she’d dreamt of taking from you from the moment she laid eyes on you.

But she can’t indulge in that, not now, not when you’re being so kind.

She chokes back a groan, the girl slowly crawling over your body, similar to a predator creeping over its prey. Her body consuming yours as she pressed either one of her palms into the plush couch near your head, staring into your eyes as she settled between your warm thighs, the plush skin pressing against a sliver of her hips that was exposed at the top of her jeans. The feeling of her body pressed against your warm cunt, the only thing separating the two of you being the think material of your shorts, drove Ellie to the brink of insanity.

She hummed softly, her eyes trailing down your every feature, taking you in, eating you up for a moment before she grabbed your chin, tilting your head up and away to give her better access to the little area of your throat that had now become hers and only hers.

Soon, she’s leaning down, her body pressed against yours as she peppers kisses along your jaw until she reaches your throat, licking at the two little wounds that were in the shape of her fangs before she sighed against your skin, finally giving in and letting her protruding fangs sink into your skin.

You’d always been comfortable around Ellie, never shying away from her touch whenever she’d grab you whenever you were out together, or letting her easily pull you into her lap whenever you watched movies or played video games together, intimate touches never being out of the ordinary in your relationship.

But now, ever since you and her had started…whatever it was that you’d been doing, you had seemed to cross a boundary that was once put up. What was once little sighs and huffs, turned into full on moans whenever Ellie would press her body against yours and take what she wanted. You’d grip her hair, keeping her close as you moaned and whined out her name, breathless begs for her to keep going.

“Fuck…Ellie…” you moaned out for her, your eyes fluttering shut as your fingers laced into her brown hair, keeping her close as her hands moved from either sides of your head to instead grip your body. Your hips were her favorite, holding onto the plush skin and keeping you close, massaging and kneading you as she pleased, a small piece of her wanting to bruise you up, just so she knew she was able to leave marks on you other than your neck.

It egged her on further, your calls for her making her swipe her tongue over the wound before she continued sucking your sweet essence from your body. Ellie wasn’t sure if you were fond of it at first, but now? With how you reacted? She was sure you enjoyed it, if even a little bit.

She became so drunk off of you, her mind clouded with the intense flavor of your blood, nearly choking on it with how quickly she drank sometimes. One of her hands left your hips, sliding down until she gripped your thigh, pulling it up and closer to wrap around her body, massaging the soft skin as she let one of her legs slip over your other one, so that her thigh was slotted against your cunt, and yours against hers.

Ellie didn’t even realize it at first, but she slowly began to grind into you, letting her thigh rub against your barely clothed pussy as she drank from you, her senses completely overwhelmed with just how fucking good you tasted, how good you felt. She felt her mind and body buzz with electricity when she pressed her chest against yours, and she could feel your nipples hardening through the thin material of your shirt, pressing against her own chest.

“Mm…h-hah…Ellie..I….Ellie please…” you begged, and Ellie was able to hear the way your voice was slowly going, growing more and more hoarse with every moan, every pant.

She was taking too much, and she wasn’t sure if she was begging for you to stop, or to keep going.

Ellie groaned loudly against you, prying her lips away from your dulcet neck, panting loudly as she pulled away further to look down at you, letting herself get a good look at the mess she’d made of you.

Your lips were swollen, eyes growing heavy, skin getting dull. Your hair was messy, and your shirt was pulled down further, revealing more of your shoulder and collar bones, while the bottom was pushed up to show more of your stomach.

It was like a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You blinked a few times as you tried catching your breath, staring up at Ellie as one of your hands came up to cup her cheek gently.

“A-all better?” You stuttered out, giving her that notorious dreamy smile of yours, the one that made Ellie feel like she was the only person in the world that got to see it.

She’s drained you, and yet you were asking if she felt better.

Ellie held back a groan, her large hand wrapping around your wrist before she brought your hand down to press a kiss to your palm, giving you a gentle nod before she inhaled deeply to control the emotions that threatened to escape while she saw you this way.

“Always when I’m with you baby” she chuckled out sadly.

The smile you give Ellie nearly has her in tears, because you look so genuinely happy, so content with the fact that you’ve helped her, that you’ve made Ellie feel better, even if it’s at the expensive of your own comfort.

At the expensive of your own life.

“I’m glad…” you hummed out softly before you yawned, clearly tired out from what Ellie had done to you. It makes Ellie frown, and she’s quickly pushing herself off of you before she scoops you up into her arms to carry you off to your bedroom.

Soon, she has you tucked into bed, your eyes closing almost as soon as your head hits the pillow, and Ellie has your blankets pulled up over your arms. It’s almost mind blowing how quickly you fall asleep, it makes Ellie feel a bit jealous, because she can’t remember a time where she was that comfortable in a bed to fall asleep so fast.

She watches you, of course. Sticking around for a few hours after you’ve slept, keeping an eye on you to make sure your chest continues to rise and fall slowly. She knows it would never go that far, but she always gets nervous after feeding.

Tonight was also different, and it was eating away at her because she knew there wasn’t really a right or wrong way to go about cleaning about it, or comforting you about how wrong this was, and how much Ellie had been draining you. Even the fact that you expected it of her when she came over left a bitter taste in her mouth, one that replaced the sweet one that usually lingered on her tongue after she had a taste of you.

And as she watched you sleep, so peaceful and so serene, Ellie began to think of any way this would blossom into something more. How would this carry on? She would continue sucking from you until you died one day? She’d come to you like a thief in the knight well after you had a family? Children to look after? Your life moving on while she stayed in an immortal purgatory? One where she continued the cycle of coming to you for a quick bite to eat? Paired with a warm body to lay on top of for the time being?

There was no way it could surpass this. You being her friend, helping her in a way not many could. Ellie knew, that deep down, the life she wanted with you was not one that was easy to come by, something that she wouldn’t dare ask of you. From the moment she saw you, she wanted more. Because that’s what she did, she took, and took, and took until there was nothing left to take, and it was slowly happening with you.

But Ellie loved you too fucking much to take until you were nothing but a shriveled up peace of what you used to be.

So, she took one long last look at you and she left your window. Because that night, she promised herself that she was finished. The life she wanted with you unfortunately wasn’t written in the stars for her, and she knew that from the moment she saw you.

Ellie was letting you go, because she knew it she didn’t.

She’d just end up killing you.

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Six

— Little Big Gifts

Series Masterlist

wc: 1.9k

You watched as Isabella tugged Max into yet another store with a tight grip on his hand. At this point, you were losing track of how many stores you've been in and out of.

Falling behind a few steps, you took that moment to notice how Max and Isabella could've easily resembled a father-daughter duo to the strangers around you.

Pushing that thought away when Max looked for you, he smiled and held out his other hand—that was still holding a few shopping bags—as a gesture for you to come closer.

"How much money are you planning to spend on her?" You asked, looking at the increasing shopping bags in both yours and his hands, everything bought so far was for Isabella.

You had to physically stop yourself from grasping his bicep, cursing internally when you remembered that it wouldn't be the right thing to do. But you desperately wanted it to be a normal habit.

The first—and last—time you tried to pay was when you were checking out at the register in the first store of the day. Max lightly shoved you aside and tapped his card before you could notice what happened.

The cashier noticed and even commented, "let him pay for it, darling," with a cheeky wink directed at you.

Max looked at you, almost offended at the question you asked. "Until my account is empty," he stated with a shrug and a growing smile on his face when you shook your head. This would've been the perfect time to lean against him and smile at him, but once again you didn't.

"It would take a long time before that happens," you responded and he gave you a knowing look, "that's the point."

Isabella was roaming around the aisles with you and Max following behind. Every time she liked something, she would pick it up and look at you two with the cutest smile on her face while muttering the word, "please."

It reminded you of the day you first met Max through Isabella, since she was doing the same trick as today.

The only difference was that every time that happened, Max looked at you for permission as well and it felt like you were facing two versions of Isabella.

"Mama!" Isabella exclaimed when she laid her eyes on the prize, which happens to be hair accessories.

Little clips with bows, glittery ones, some even had flowers, and she loved it all.

"Pick out the ones you really, really like, Bella." If you didn't limit the items, Isabella would pick one too many. You stood beside her, holding each item that she handed to you.

There were lots of options, but your little girl was picky and this was one of the few times you were grateful for it. She picked out a total of six items, "because I'm six, mama," was her reasoning behind it.

You chuckled, "you can pick out seven things when you turn seven then, okay?" She nodded, and began counting how many months were left until her birthday.

Max watched the whole interaction with soft smile on his face, wondering how he had such amazing luck that he was able to befriend the sweetest mother-daughter duo.

Then, Isabella spotted earrings and asked if she could buy those too. "Your ears aren't pierced, angel." She frowned, "why not?"

“Do you want to get your ears pierced?" You asked, knowing it was a question you'd have to ask one day and it seemed like a good time right now.

"Yes please," Isabella nodded, and looked at both you and Max in anticipation. This time, you looked at Max for reassurance, wanting to know his opinion as well. Though you had no idea why his opinion mattered so much to you.

"It's going to hurt," Max commented or more so stated directed at Isabella, wanting her to know the process behind it. "I am a big girl!" She responded with enthusiasm, and by the tone of her voice, you knew that she had already set her mind on it.

"Okay, big girl, let's get you some piercings after we buy all this," you stated and she smiled brightly, holding onto your hand as you neared the cash register.

As Max reached for his wallet, you placed your hand over his to stop him, and he looked at you with a questioning gaze. "Max, you already did too much," you whispered, ensuring that your daughter doesn't hear you.

"What if I want to do more?" He countered, and you sighed. Then he added, "plus I promised Bella that I would buy her the clips she wanted, and she also asked for ice cream."

You knew he wasn't going to budge, so you let him pay but you needed to have a conversation with him about it.

You weren't used to this sort of treatment, and even after Max reassured you that it was truly his choice to pay, you felt bad.

As you walked out the shop holding Isabella's hand, who was beaming because of the new purchases, you looked at Max, "are you going to let me pay for the piercings?"

He debated it, knowing that if he kept paying, you might never take him along for shopping again. "If you insist," he shrugged and you smiled, quickly placing a kiss to his cheek in appreciation.

While you and Isabella continued walking, Max faltered and stopped midstep. He brushed his fingers against his cheek that you kissed with a small smile growing on his face. Then, he continued walking before you were able to notice that he stopped.

Isabella's nervousness almost matched her excitement as she sat in the chair. The piercer was a kind lady who understood both Isabella's nervousness and excitement.

She explained the process as it was your daughter's first time getting pierced. "Are you sure you want to do this, angel?" You asked, watching her wiggle around in the chair.

Still, her nod was just as firm, "yes mama."

Once the piercer marked Isabella's ear so the placement was precise, she looked towards you and Max then back at Isabella.

"Why don't you hold on to your mama and daddy's hand, you'll forget the pain and we'll be done in no time."

Isabella grabbed onto your hand but then shook her head, "he's Maxy, not daddy," she clarified. Max took a slight step back after her words, the realization dawning on him that he might've gotten a little too comfortable too quickly.

"I'm going to hold onto mama and Maxy's hand," Isabella stated, holding out her hand towards Max with a wide smile on her face, as if she didn't realize the words she spoke just moments ago.

Technically, she wasn't wrong which was why you didn't correct her. But, the truth of the situation wasn't something you focused on until recently, especially after the words Tyler spoke yesterday.

"Can you count to three for me?" The piercer asked Isabella, deflating the tension.

Your focus was completely on your daughter, mainly because you didn't want to think of the possibilities about your future with Max just yet.

The piercer didn't wait until Isabella finished counting, instead surprising her by piercing her ear a second earlier.

Max rubbed her hand soothingly as he noticed her eyes beginning to water but she didn't let a single tear drop. Inhaling sharply, she commented, "that didn't hurt too bad."

"You're a brave girl. Now let's do the other side," the lady commented and Isabella's eyes widened at her words. "The other side?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at her words, "yes, angel, she has to do your other ear unless you only want one earring?"

Isabella shook her head, and sat through the same process for her other ear.

"Good job!" The lady gave your daughter a high five, then she walked away to gather the items needed for post piercing care.

You kissed your daughter's cheek, carefully avoiding any accidental touches to her ear, "my brave girl."

The chair she was sitting on was higher up, so Isabella held her hands out towards Max. He took a step closer and easily wrapped his arm around her, helping her stand firmly on the ground. “You're going to be the coolest kid in first grade," he told her which made her eyes widen with excitement.

"Really?" Isabella asked. "Of course! You got a new bag, new clothes, and even new piercings. You are going to have so many friends."

After Isabella shared her fear of moving to first grade after kindergarten, you and Max tried your best to reassure her that it isn't as scary as she thinks it is.

You went up to the cash counter to pay and the lady explained the steps that should be taken after a piercing for proper care.

Meanwhile, Max was holding Isabella's hand and whispering to each other but stopped once you returned. "Where to next?"

"Ice cream!" Your daughter cheered, and you couldn't say no to her even if you tried. After all, she did deserve ice cream since she put on such a brave face for her piercings.

After buying three different flavours of ice cream, one for each of you, it was time for a much needed break. You knew that Isabella was close to wanting a nap since you saw her eyes droop slightly once you sat down to enjoy some ice cream.

She leaned against you and wandered off into her own imaginative world. "I think we're done for the day," you turned your head towards Max as you spoke the words.

"You didn't get anything for yourself yet," Max commented and you shrugged, "I don't think I have the energy to shop for myself, plus you didn't buy anything for yourself either."

"And you're sure that you're not saying that because you don't want to spend my money?" He asked and you had a sheepish smile on your face that gave you away, “that too.”

Max tried to understand why you were so adamant on that topic. He didn't know why you were so hesitant to spend his money. He knew that if it were someone else, they wouldn't have hesitated. But then again, you aren't just someone else, you're you.

"Fine, mister rich, don't look at me like that. I'll empty out your pockets one day and then you'll realize what a mistake you made," you teased him, knowing that you would never do that. "But, I seriously don't have the energy to continue shopping."

"First, it won't be a mistake if I ask you to do it, and second, I'm here whenever you need me—or in this case, my card—just give me a call."

You were glad that Isabella was not listening to your conversation, because you wouldn't know how to explain it to her.

"You can't say things like that," you nearly whispered. "It's actually true, I'm free for the next ten days. During that, we're going shopping again."

You shook your head with a smile on your face, "I'll take you up on that offer then."

"Good." You leaned closer to him, without actually leaning on him. Even that little inch closer, brought a smile to both your faces but neither commented on it.

Then, when you looked at Isabella, she had almost finished her ice cream but you laughed when you noticed quite of a bit of it smeared around her mouth. "Oh, Bella." She giggled as she tried to wipe away as much as she could with her tongue before using the tissue that you passed her.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy @formulanni @ellouisa17

[poeticmystery]

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ RAY OF SUNSHINE (p.j.)

summary : in which percy jackson feels attached, in some way, to a girl he just met.

w.c. : 1,023

a/n : this is the first part of what's gonna be a full book! i'm going to post it on wattpad as soon as i write the second chapter! wattpad: poet1cmystery

warning(s) : none!

| riordanverse masterlist | navigation | part 2 |

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the last thing percy remembered was the feeling of blood rushing to his head, then darkness. 

now he was lying on a small cot, one of the few empty ones in the infirmary. a thin blanket covered him, one that, no doubt, rested on top of many other wounded half-bloods. the air was brisk, despite the barrier keeping out most of the heavy forms of weather. he moved his hands up to grab the top of the blanket, causing a tingling sensation to run to the tips of his fingers. 

his movement stopped, and his limbs felt normal again after the moment of stillness. confusion ebbed his mind, questions of how long he was out, and what had even happened. those thoughts couldn’t last for long, as he soon heard a girl’s voice exclaim something close to, “you’re finally awake.” 

he nodded, clearing his throat to try to get some of the patchiness away. the boy spoke up, his voice scratchy and still slightly covered in a viel of sleepiness. 

“do you have any water, or something?” he asked, glancing around at the table beside the bed. the only thing sitting on it was a book. he couldn’t quite decipher the words, the letters scrambling and jumbling into words he knew didn’t exist. 

“oh, yeah, let me fetch that. is there anything else?” the girl’s voice was sweet.. her face was completely lost on percy, surprising him with even more confusion. 

“uh, no,” he grunted out, just wanting to fall asleep again. his tone wasn’t rude to her, just overall a tired voice. 

the next he knew, the girl was out of the room, leaving him alone to his thoughts. 

his head fell against the pillow beneath it, the plushness doing nothing to support it. despite his still almost-asleep state of mind, he couldn’t help but be enthralled by the girl. 

soon enough, her smiling face returned to the small room. she came holding a decently sized metal water bottle, along with a small, clear bag of blue candies. "i heard from somebody that you liked these, so i thought i’d grab some, but it’s alright if you aren’t hungry. you just woke up, so no worries,” she assured, placing the items on the wooden table. 

she looked over the boy’s body for a minute, gently peeling back the thin covering to show his bare torso. the wounds that had been littering it just a few hours before were almost completely erased at this point, thanks to the magical properties of ambrosia. She hummed in satisfaction, folding the blanket back over him and taking a step back. 

percy just let her do what she needed to– it wasn’t his first time in the infirmirary, and definitely not his last. even though he had just been knocked out for almost the whole day, he was feeling almost fine. he reached up, his muscles feeling loose from the stillness they had been in. his hand wrapped around the bottle the girl had filled with water for him, bringing the small spout to his lips. to him, the bottle was filled with liquid gold. 

he gulped it down thirstily, quickly finishing it with a sheepish look on his face. the girl across from him didn’t seem to notice, her head buried in paperwork sitting on a clipboard. “hey, what’s your name? i haven’t seen you around.” he didn’t want to interrupt her, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. 

“y/n. y/n y/l/n,” she answered, looking up from the sheet she was working on. a small smile persisted on her face, just as it had for the entirety of their short interaction that day. 

he noticed that it never left, just merely grew or shrunk. 

like a ray of sunshine, he thought. 

“i like that,” percy admitted, “it suits you, y’know? like, you definitely look like a y/n.”

“well, thank you? i think?” she laughed out, quickly gauging percy’s personality. He just nodded in response, then looked down at his hands, playing mindlessly with the loose thread of the old blanket.

she turned over the paper on the clipboard before sliding it under her arm the wood feeling smooth against her skin. she clapped her hands together, “well, physically, you look great. you can leave whenever you feel good enough to,” she stated, assuming the boy still felt decently tired. 

once again, percy’s only response was a nod, causing the y/n to just stand there, and awkward silence falling over them. 

“well…” the girl trailed off, “i’m gonna go, maybe i’ll see you around.” she added the last bit after, her smile widening. she looked to him for a reaction. he smiled back at her. she took that as a signal to leave, making percy suddenly wish he had asked her to stay longer. he could smell the scent of her perfume as it wanted over him, enveloping him with the fragrance. 

he watched as she passed by the open doorway a couple times, likely attending to other sick or wounded half-bloods. he was never too close with anyone from the apollo cabin, but suddenly he felt himself taking an interest in the group of teens. he was well aware that the conversations with y/n had only lasted mere minutes, but felt a connection with her on some level. he didn’t know why or how, but he did. 

he shortly felt himself growing tired again, a sudden shine of the sun washing over him as it set into the evening. it warmed him enough for him to discard the thin blanket atop his body. the fabric fell to the floor, he’d pick it up later. the boy turned away from the sun, feeling its’ heat against his bare back, causing a smile to grace his pink lips. he tucked his arms under the pillow he was lying on, adding more support beneath his head, letting him drift into a comfortable sleep. 

taglist : @iamforeverandalwaystired, message me or leave it here to be added!

[hazbinwhoree]

Hello! I hope I'm not bothering you or anything! But I've been lurking on your blog for quite a bit now lol. If it's okay, can I request a jealous! Adam x Reader? If you're feeling generous, maybe make it a bit smutty? The Reader can be an angel, sinner or hellborn. The story is completely up to you!

Jealousy, Jealousy

A/N: I left it vague so the reader can be angel, sinner, or hellborn, it’s up to you reader!

Warnings: Slight breeding kink

Adam was seething. He watched Michael and (Name) interact, Michael clearly flirting if his facial expressions and body language were anything to go by. Adam had left her alone for two minutes and Michael swooped in. He quickly decided he’d seen enough and barged into the conversation.

“Shitface,” he greeted Michael, putting a possessive hand on (Name)’s waist and pulling her into him. Michael soured. “Adam,” he greeted tightly. “We have places to be,” Adam announced. “Later, Mikey.” He tugged (Name) away.

With her hand in his, Adam led (Name) swiftly to his home, and as soon as they were inside, he was slamming (Name) up against the wall.

“Adam!” she gasped. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You letting Michael carry on even though he clearly wanted to fuck you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He was fucking flirting with you, (Name).”

“Oh… does that mean you’re jealous?”

Adam didn’t answer with words. Instead he growled and buried his face in her neck, sucking and biting his marks onto her. (Name) moaned. Adam pulled back just to lift her up by the ass, her legs locking around his waist. Then he continued the assault on her neck. (Name) felt heat rush to her core. She liked this possessive side of Adam.

“He wanted to fuck you,” Adam hissed against her neck. “But I’m the only one who can fuck you.” (Name) shuddered.

Adam had never been more grateful for skirts, tugging (Name)’s up to bunch around her stomach, revealing her panties. He ripped those without a care, and (Name) whined, “I liked that pair.” “I’ll buy you a new one, shut up.”

(Name) was really enjoying this. She should make Adam jealous more often.

Suddenly Adam was lifting her up the wall until her crotch was at his face. She threw her legs over his shoulders. Adam held her up against the wall as he leaned forward and began eating her out like it was his last meal. (Name) cried out and grabbed onto his horns.

His skilled tongue went up and down a few times before circling her clit, and then he began to fuck her with it. Adam had a long tongue, and (Name) had never been more grateful for it as she held onto him for dear life.

Adam’s tongue circled her clit again, and (Name) was quickly nearing the edge. Adam knew her well enough to recognize when she was close, and to her dismay, he pulled back and tapped her legs. She reluctantly slid them off his shoulders and let herself slide down the wall until she and Adam were face to face again.

He slammed his lips against hers and (Name) moaned when she could taste herself on him. It was absolutely sinful.

Adam disconnected their lips and put (Name) on the ground. She leaned heavily against the wall, her legs shaky. Adam shed his robe and pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free his dick.

He grabbed (Name) under her arms and lifted her back up against the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck while he lined himself up before abruptly thrusting up into her. (Name) cried out, nearly choking Adam with how tight she held onto him.

Adam couldn’t care less, beginning to thrust at an absolutely brutal pace. She was positioned just so that with every thrust her clit rubbed against his pubic bone.

“Fuck, Adam,” she moaned.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” Adam panted. “Michael wishes he could have you like this, but he could never satisfy you like I can.”

(Name) blushed. “You like that, slut? You like when I talk to you while I fuck you?”

(Name) swallowed her pride and nodded.

“Good, because you need to know that you’re mine, I fucking own you. No one else can fuck you this good. The next time I catch you letting Michael flirt with you, I’m fucking you in front of him.”

(Name) moaned unabashedly.

Adam groaned, getting close. He could tell (Name) was getting close too, and he kept his pace steady and hard. “I’m gonna cum in you while you cum on my dick. Gonna put a fucking baby in you. Then everyone will know who you belong to.”

That pushed (Name) over the edge and she came with a cry. Her pussy tightened around Adam and that was all it took for him to cum as well. He pushed (Name) down on his dick while simultaneously thrusting upwards, cumming deep inside of her.

They stayed like that for a minute, panting and catching their breaths.

“Fuck, Adam, that was–” “Fantastic, I know.” The cocky bastard.

Adam was going to set (Name) back on the floor, but by the way her legs were shaking, he wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand. So he pulled out, smirking when some of his cum dripped down her thigh and onto the floor.

He carried her over to the bed and gently placed her down on it. “Wait here.” He went to grab a towel.

As he carefully cleaned her up after cleaning himself, (Name) stared at him with an indiscernible expression. “What?” Adam asked.

“I should get you jealous more often.”

[atozfic]

splish splash.

pairing. san x seonghwa x wooyoung x yunho x fem!reader synopsis. they’re out to prove who’s the best at the breast-stroke- gets dragged off stage as the people boo over such a terrible pun. warnings. no use of y/n, swim team au, lifeguard!reader, pro-swimmers!sanhwawooho, they’re all wearing speedos :), smut ( porn with unnecesary plot, degradation, m+f oral sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, triple penetration bc u got 3 holes for a reason sweetcheeks, mxm interactions, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, hair pulling, way more warnings that there’s honestly no point listing, just know this is pure filth that covers most bases of stereotypical fanfiction smut, mother in christ what have i written? ) no verbal consent is given throughout this but all parties are willing participants !! word count. 20k+ ( of literal porn. i need to leave this physical terrain bc i am not worthy of existing after writing this i fear. ) hyde’s input. hey girlie pops, long time no see.

it’s crazy, what some people will do for money.

take, for example, your roommate. she’s a smart girl. a beautiful one, too. with a promising future in criminal law, once she gets herself that pesky little degree. and, yet, she’s funding her tuition with money she earns distributing high-end drugs on campus. rather counter-productive, most would agree. or, in a far less extreme version, there’s that overly-hyper frat boy, who can always be found doing the dumbest dares at a party, all for a few bucks and a keg of beer.

and then there is you.

you would have arrived home twenty minutes ago at this point, had things gone to plan, a backlog of neglected assignments and a baby bonsai tree in need of watering desperately awaiting your return. yet here you are, stuck in your ugly flip-flops and uncomfortably stale shorts, whistle around your neck and a look of exhaustion on your face.

the swimming pool had closed, technically, an hour and a half ago. the sports centre seems to believe, however, that certain members of the college swim team reserve the right to use the pool for however long they require and desire, even if it is at your expense. if you were being paid overtime, perhaps you’d have a more positive outlook on things and less of a frown creasing on your forehead.

if the swimmers weren’t so irritating, maybe you’d enjoy the view.

“all that height, and for what?” the sophomore boy’s voice- jung wooyoung? you aren’t overly familiar with him, seeing him only in sporadic flashes when you pass each other on campus or at some uncivilised frat party- echos through the large room, his hair a wet mess. if you were gaining anything from being here, you’d perhaps muster up the energy to remind the boy of how a swim cap is necessary at all times in the water. “can’t even out-swim me with those long legs!”

“wanna know what my long legs are for?” jeong yunho, a junior with the face of an angel and the body proportions of a sinner, pipes up from across the olympic length pool. unlike the other boy, a crimson cap keeps his own locks out of sight. “climbing up the stairs to go fuck your mom!”

it’s impossible to stifle your laughter, no matter how hard you try to just play it off as a tickle at the back of your throat, a cough forcing its way out. when your eyes meet those of the glaring senior, however, you’re wishing you hadn’t made a sound.

“even the lifeguard can’t take you seriously, yunho,” park seonghwa speaks, eyes not leaving yours as his muscled arms work to pull himself out of the water, before letting his well-rounded behind sit down on the edge. a breath hitches in your throat as his gloriously muscled thighs come into view, drops of water cascading down them in a pattern set to hypnotise you, keep you staring a little longer than is good for your health. “bet she’s heard all about you and the boner incident of 2019.”

truthfully, you have no clue what the dark haired male is on about. that doesn’t stop you from laughing again though, this time a little out of malice and a lot because it’s quite endearing to see a loudmouth like jeong yunho be silenced so easily, head bowed and ears a little rosier with embarrassment.

this small moment of peace is soon shattered by the reality that these boys can’t spend more than ten minutes in a room- particularly one that includes a pool- without arguing. while one boasts about his speed, the other begins to jab at his lack of endurance, and the remaining of the three reminds them all of the fact he holds the most medals amongst them.

“are they always like this?” you jump, surprised by the cold drop of water that lands on your exposed thigh, all courtesy of the boy who’s invited himself to sit down next to you on the bench.

“not always,” you bite at the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to not look at san in all his wet glory. you’re afraid that, once you start looking at him, you won’t be able to stop. it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen victim to the crime that is his enchanting smile. “guess they’re feeling a little feistier than usual, with the district championship just around the corner. rumour has it one of you guys is risking his scholarship if he’s not in the top three.”

are you and san close?

that’s a good question. see, by social standards, you’re not strangers. you share several classes, you attend the same parties, you’ve even texted a few times- mostly on the days one of you miss class (read as: san misses class thanks to his swim-meets) and you need a copy of any notes taken that lesson.

but, you aren’t exactly friends either. you don’t go out of your ways to spend time together, you don’t know more than the surface level about one another, you don’t check-in with each other.

so, is acquaintances the best word to describe you two?

that depends on how common it is for an acquaintance to suck another acquaintance’s cock. granted, there had been a lot of alcohol in the mix, on both ends, with you drinking to forget a botched assignment and san drinking to forget how badly his voice had apparently cracked in front of his crush.

a few weeks have passed since the incident and things haven’t exactly been the same. you’ve missed class twice and ended up contacting heather- a sweet girl who sits down by the front and seems to live with her hand raised in the air- for any notes. likewise, san has found himself declining party invitations, the knowledge that you would be there all too prevalent in the front of his mind.

the irony is that neither of you quite know the reason why you’re avoiding each other, you just are.

or, were, until san had walked in with his swim team buddies- if they could even be considered that- and spotted you in your lifeguard attire. he hadn’t been as slick as he thought he was, sneaking glances at you between laps and even gaining an undeniable smile each time he watched you blow that stupid whistle at some misbehaving kids.

he was slicker with the fact he didn’t need to be here, at this hour. but, he figured staying gave him the chance to stare at you a little longer and, maybe, think up an excuse to talk to you.

“i should-”

“i missed-”

you both speak at the same time, minutes after watching the three musketeers disappear into the locker rooms, with the smallest of them continuing to dig at them for not being able to out-swim him despite their ample amount of height. san’s quick to signal you to go first, a dimple making itself known on his face and reminding you of the deadliest part of him: the false innocence that drips off him like warm candy.

sweet, sticky, making a mess all over the place.

“i should probably start cleaning up.” it turns out san also isn’t discreet when it comes to hiding the disappointment in his face, because no sooner than those words leave your mouth, the dimple is gone and he’s sat a little straighter, a little more ridged, like when the professor points him out in the middle of the class and the golden boy can’t stomach all the attention being on him. “but, what were you gonna say?”

“oh,” and it’s like he’s just remembered that yes, there is something he wants to say. “i missed you in class yesterday.”

it catches you off guard, leaving you to almost drop the whistle you’ve been fiddling between your fingers for the past few minutes. something about sitting so close to him while both of you are dressed so scantily has you feeling unnerved, like you need to run away as fast as possible, yet also wanting to plant yourself right in his lap.

“i didn’t think,” you’re cut off by your own throat, dry and desperate for a drink under his intense gaze. san is a walking contradiction, you think, with his sharp cheekbones and soft heart, his intense eyes and his easy-going smile. his presence gives you never-ending whiplash, never sure if he’s more angel than devil. “i didn’t think you noticed.”

“how could i not? there was no one to laugh with me at professor nam and his weird toe-shoes!” his laugh is infectious, willing your own to make an appearance. 

the sound of distant muffled yelling fills the air of the swimming pool and it isn’t hard to recognise wooyoung’s high-pitched laughter amongst it. clearly, their childish arguing has carried on into the changing rooms. it surprises you in no way, already more than used to their antics.

their rivalry is one for the ages, all of them constantly bumping heads for the spot of the top swimmer on campus, their sports scholarships becoming their pride and joy.

you suppose it doesn’t help that all four boys run in different circles, only really crossing paths when faced with swim-meets and days of practice. the senior, park seonghwa, runs with the richer kids of the college, all sharing their trust-funds and god complexes as a common interest. you’re not overly familiar with them, though you’re certain he and a particular blue-haired boy are rarely seen apart. jeong yunho, the tallest, is in with the jocks, which is mostly just because his taller friend is the captain of the basketball team. and jung wooyoung tends to surround himself with the stoners from the school, something you’d learned from kang yeosang, a dealer you shared a couple classes with back in your first semester.

san, ever the golden boy, drifts between a couple different groups but he can usually be found alone and enjoying his own company, if not being followed by a flock of his own little fan-club, men and women alike begging for just an ounce of his time.

your name echos around the room. your head snaps to the side and you find that san is now closer, staring at you in a way that’s making your insides knot up. you’ve seen that look only once before, and it done nothing but leave your knees and your ego bruised. “were you listening to me?”

“what? uh, yeah, i was,” you’re quick to lie, knowing it’s about to backfire when he breaks out in a challenging grin.

“really? what did i say?” he only allows you to stumble over words for a minute before cutting off your incomprehensible speaking when he grabs at your chin and tilts your head up, staring straight into your eyes. “that’s what i thought. you were too busy getting lost in that pretty little head of yours to pay attention to me.”

you stutter over a noise and settle for that as your response, though entirely incomprehensible and nonsensical. the way he continues to stare at you feels cruel, demons dancing around in those pretty eyes of his. demons that are telling him to tease, torture, torment the fragile eyes staring back at him, the same ones he’d delighted in watching fill up with tears a few weeks back, the pressure of his crown slamming against the back of your tight throat entirely overwhelming you to the point of crying, tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your own drool pooling over the swell of his balls.

“need me to repeat myself?” you’re slow to catch up to the fact he’s speaking again, and even slower to notice the hand resting on your knee. at first, you think you’re imagining things, the feather light tracing of nails over your soft skin a mere figment of your imagination. but, no, your eyes flash down to glimpse and his hand is there, fingers dancing over your naked skin like it’s their own personal stage and he’s intending to put on the show of a lifetime. he speaks your name. “questions are meant to be answered.”

“i-” san picks the perfect time to apply pressure on you, hand gripping the flesh on the lower end of your thigh. goosebumps spring to life at the feeling of his cold ring on your damp skin. it takes a shaky breath to try compose yourself but you do eventually manage to get a reply out. “sorry... please say it again.”

“huh,” he pauses to contemplate, slowly leaning his face closer to your own, giving you all the time to pull back if you want to. you stay still and his minty breath infects your senses while the hand on your leg replaces your thigh with your face, the grip he has on it forcing blunt nails to nip at your skin. normally, you’d worry about the marks it’s going to leave behind. right now, you want him to grip tighter, dig deeper into your flesh till he’s drawing blood and licking it off your cheeks. “how the fuck do you still sound so cute begging?”

“is that,” his other hand curls around the back of you, finding a resting place on your hip. the window of opportunity you once had to pull back or run away is slammed shut the moment he tugs you a little closer, the side of your body crashing into his naked chest. “what you said earlier?”

“oh, no.” san almost sounds like he’s cooing, a mocking tone in his voice that has your thighs clenching in a way you’re sure he notices. his eye flickering down to glance at them confirms your suspicions, the smirk taking over his features the metaphorical cherry on top. “i was just talking about how i’ve still not returned the favour.”

mind blanking out on you, you stare back at him in what you can only imagine to be a dumb-founded look, mouth slightly agape and teasing your answer.

what follows, however, is a resounding silence on your end.

“c’mon, princess, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what happened the last time i got you alone.”

forget? it’s all you’ve been able to think of every time you’ve seen him since, whether he was a figure in the corner of your eye during class or making his way down the campus car-park in search of his beaten up mustang.

each time, like an old record player, your mind plays on loop the way he looked staring down at you, long legs spread enough to fit you between them, closing in on you to trap you in place each time you swallowed him a little deeper; replaying the symphony of whiny moans and airy breaths you’d pulled from him, lips swollen and red from trying too hard to hold back his cries of pleasure; reviving the memory of his vice grip on your hair, tugging at the roots to tilt you back into the perfect angle for his hips to piston into your warm mouth, meeting his own crescendo in one final pathetic whimper of your name.

a whimper that’s pushed you over the edge several times since, fingers soaked in your own sins and mouth biting down on your pillow to keep your poor sleeping roommate oblivious to your actions.

“no,” an answer escapes you alongside a shaky breath, something about the way he’s slowly trailing his fingers down your neck and the intensity he’s staring at you with hypnotising you into forgetting all about the boisterous boys and their changing-rooms chanting. “haven’t forgot.”

it’s his turn to stay quiet and you begin to wonder if he’s recalling it too, if he’s reminding himself of how easily your bodies melted together, like candle-wax meeting a flame. the question of if he’s thought about the exact scene, hands stuffed down his pants while a dull ache builds in his wrist, burns the tip of your tongue.

but his eyes burn you more.

they’re usually wide, bright, full of that bubbly nature san is known all over for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then san’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.

“then, don’t you agree that it’s my turn to have a taste?”

it’s the question to end all questions, no time to even think of forming an answer when his fingertips are dancing over your skin so rhythmically, like a practiced choreography when they curl and wrap themselves around your neck. they rest there for a heartbeat, and then another, before you feel it begin.

the pressure is dull, at first, and you think you’re imagining it. but it grows, like a seed under the sun, blossoms into thorns squeezing around your airways, a deformed rose made from the red marks his fingers will be sure to leave behind.

you try to breath in, only for it to get caught somewhere between your lips and his tightening hold.

“you’re too fucking pretty, you know?” the hand on your hip has found a new home on your cheek, palm warm and thumb rough as he swipes it over your bottom lip. “all i can ever think about around you, even when you were drooling all over my balls.”

you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, raven hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.

the silence pleases him.

“y’know, it’s so hard to get you alone. always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid parties i had to attend to finally get the chance to talk to you?” san pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, angel? or are you lost in that pretty little head again?”

“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with your new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want from me.”

if it’s the wrong or right thing to say, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced boy releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting caramel that reminds you of how sweet yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.

“then let me show you what i want.”

his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answers to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.

it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm to his kiss is a mismatch of beats, where one moment your lips are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down your body.

yet it terrifies you how willingly you succumb to san’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to begin a seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand once again finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.

the moment his fingertips meet the bottom of your shorts, you’re wishing you’d never slipped them on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over the bottom of your shorts occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.

like mosses and the great sea, san parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.

his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s very core.

“have you figured out what i want yet, pretty?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual light-hearted, almost squeak-like tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the smiley boy. right now, there’s no trace of humour in the thick rasp and there’s no time for smiling while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.

something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you want, rather than what the devil incarnate by your side wants.

“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”

you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.

you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.

you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.

you want-

“you.” is all you manage to breath out.

it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows unfurling and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.

lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. san, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he welcomed himself into the empty space next to you on the bench.

one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, so close that you have no choice but to swing one leg over him and slot yourself in his lap.

there was one time, in the middle of what you’ve deemed to be the most boring lecture ever, that you had thought about what it would feel like to sit in choi san’s lap. unintentionally, of course, for how could anyone look over at him in those grey sweatpants, legs manspreading like it was nobody’s business and pen tapping away at the table in front of him, and not daydream about being perched in his lap, head resting somewhere between his shoulder and his soft hair?

you’d imagined him to be the embodiment of soft and comfortable, warm and reassuring the way he’d lazily lay an arm over your hip to make sure there’s no risk of you slipping out of your new seat. you never, for the life of you, imagined you’d feel the outline of his dick resting against your ass the first time you finally claimed your throne.

choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of him pressed against you, you choose instead to focus on the way his lips trail away from yours and make their descent towards the top of your chest.

his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your red swimsuit, successfully manoeuvring the nylon material till it’s bunched around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the swimming hall. 

with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.

one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.

the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a giggle.

his giggle.

“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your swimsuit with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, skintight fabric digging into the damp skin. “you laughing?”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, quite like the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.

“no, i can’t say they have.” the hands that have been resting on his shoulder, grasping them in a vice grip in fear of slipping off of him and and directly onto the concrete floor, gain enough confidence for you let one slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the back of his locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”

“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked you to sit on their face?”

“again, no.”

“another honourable title for me, i guess.” san’s giving you whiplash, with all this switching between being his usual goofy self and the man that minutes before was speaking profanities on how you’d looked choking on his dick. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting to the bright lights he stares up at each time he’s doing the backstroke. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting beneath your body on the bench. “now, can you please stand up and get naked so you can fuck yourself on my tongue?”

this time, it’s your laugh that echoes in the air.

“stop, i’m being serious!” he seems to whine his way through his words, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is going to drive you insane. “i can’t go another second like this, you literally sitting on my dick, without blowing my load. and i really don’t feel like having to explain to coach kwon why my team speedos are stained in cum.”

“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture choi san’s essence. “okay, okay, fine, but you kind of need to let go of me for me to, y’know, stand up.”

“oh, sorry bout that.” san’s sheepish smile shouldn’t be this cute, not when it’s followed by him removing his hands from your half-naked body.

reluctant, your feet meet the ground and you stand up from his lap. he seems to move quicker than you, no hesitation to be seen as he twists his body around and lays along the bench on his back, eyes all the while watching you expectantly.

your fingers are far from as nimble as his, and there’s a shake to them, meaning you’re a lot less slick with how you pull the swimsuit off yourself. you opt for killing two birds with one stone, dragging your shorts down alongside the red suit, till both are pooled around your feet and you’re begging with every cell in your body that you look more graceful than you feel, stepping out of the leg holes.

in all honesty, you’re more embarrassed with the fact he’d watched you remove your clothes than with how you’re now stood naked, legs a little shaky and the wetness gathering between your folds you’re suddenly so much more aware of, the cool air fighting against your pulsating heat.

“well?” san speaks with expectation, legs bent at the knee while the balls of his feet rest on the edge of the bench. “are you gonna just stand there or you gonna sit on my face?”

“are you... sure you want me to?” even you feel the idiocy behind asking such a thing, when he’s laying right there with eyes full of glee and a raging boner pressed against his hip, nothing but the familiar colours of your college to stop you from seeing him all his naked glory. still, you can’t help elaborating. “i mean, the bench isn’t exactly sturdy and, i mean, what if i slip off of you?”

“y/n, are you joking? you have to be joking!” his offence is playful enough to ease a little of the hesitation inside of you. “do you see these puppies, baby? these are my mad gains from flailing my silly little arms around in a pool six days a week!”

you think this can’t be real as you watch the golden boy of the school put on a show, flexing his arms in an effort to display his muscles and voicing the most ridiculous words that not even he seems to be taking seriously, a bubble of laughter popping in every sentence.

“i’m not gonna let you slip, now hurry up!” again with the whining.

“god, you’re so desperate!”

“for you? always.”

the following minute is made up of wobbled steps and a poor attempt at amping yourself up, repeating mantra after mantra in your head that you are the sex goddess and no man is going to make you feel nervous. not even if that man has a jaw one could slice diamonds with.

he’s got a firm grasp of your thighs before you’ve even got the chance to get comfortable, legs a little shaky as you hover over his naked chest and will your knees to find grip on the bench beneath them.

“come closer, my tongue’s not that long!” san’s pulling you up, closer, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. you repeat the process of trying to find balance, a position in which you don’t need to worry about toppling overboard. though, with the way his finger squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’ll have to worry about that truly happening. “comfortable?”

“as i’ll ever be.”

“all the people that would die to be in your position, and you say that?” he tsks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”

neither of you choose to dwell on the words next time.

him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your clit.

you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch forward momentarily, mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.

“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your clitoral hood and up your pubic bone. “you smell mouthwatering, you know? enough to make a man go feral.”

the chance to reply never comes, not when san makes his way back down to your clit and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow wetter, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- landing on his chin- to go to waste.

you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.

the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your pussy. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head meets the bench again while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.

“so pretty,” he mutters the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”

your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while he’s just watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.

your pussy clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.

san takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.

“why’d you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced orgasm you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”

“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your clit is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. san hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged clit. “the goal is to make you cum on my face, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”

his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your clit, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your clit.

“would you stop?”

“look who’s whining now.” san, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.

his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.

in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between san’s and your own.

“you can move,” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your clit and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, pretty.”

and, who are you to deny the man?

you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you sank to your knees for him. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.

it takes a few more attempts, and san’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and planting you flat on his mouth, tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, goddamn it. 

move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time with different men’s cocks. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s alas getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.

the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man beneath you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.

hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.

the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.

“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “i’m gonna- ah- gonna cum.”

san pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his face. he’s getting everything he asked for, your naked body a mess above him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your tits.

he watches how the pastel blue nail polish clashes with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.

when you cum, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you sway above him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.

he licks up every drop of cum he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he let’s you move him, mouth moving to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something akin to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.

“told you i wouldn’t let you fall,” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.

needs to hear you praise him like he’d done for you that night, eyes still hooded and chest visibly heaving as he finished processing watching you swallow every spurt of hot cum he’d shot down your throat. the praise never comes.

well, at least not from you.

at first he thinks he’s imagining the sound of clapping. it’s slow, and booming, and tinted with the slightest hint of sarcasm. it grows louder though, far too loud for it to just be in his imagination. the stilling of your body, going rigid as you fall back onto his chest, the sticky remnants of your orgasm cold against his heated skin, confirms that you hear the clapping too.

“bravo, choi. always thought your reputation with the ladies was a little overhyped, but i stand corrected.”

never has he hated the sight of park seonghwa so much, not even in the times they’ve been head-to-head in the final lap and the older male’s offensively bright swim-cap is all san can see every time he twists his head to catch a breath of air.

the three swimmers stand on the opposite end of the swimming pool, all in various stages of undress.

there’s wooyoung, who looks like he’s not so much as dried himself with a towel, still dressed in his team swimwear. and yunho, who’s got a towel wrapped around his waist messily, hair damp against his forehead and likely smelling of the cheap shampoo provided in the locker-room showers. lastly, seonghwa, who’s seemingly fully dressed spar for one of those irritating long coats san always sees him trailing around campus in.

one look into your panicked eyes is enough for san to spring into action, fumbling to sit himself up and pull your body flush against his, facing your naked back in the direction of his rivals.

he bites back a groan as you shift in his lap, unknowingly- or maybe you do know- pressing your soaked centre against his erection, which already strains inside the confines of the nylon material, leaving very little to the imagination.

“do you mind?” he’s glad the words come out clearly, booming across the pool at them and their unwavering staring.

“not at all.”

san holds you tighter against him, eyeing at your discarded swimsuit on the floor as he listens to a shuffle of footsteps. assuming the three men have made their way back into the locker-room, he’s speechless when he looks up to find them approaching the bench, seonghwa leading the trio with a secure grip on the back of wooyoung’s neck, whose eyes can’t seem to leave the floor, while yunho trails a little behind them, one hand grasping onto the towel around him.

“get your hands off her!” he leans back, pulling you with him, in an attempt to stray out of seonghwa’s reach as he extends his hand out. he fails, however, and the tips of seonghwa’s elongated fingers brush over your shoulder.

a shiver runs down you, one that san feels, the unexpected touch tickling your nerves.

“she’s a grown up,” the eldest of the men muses as he builds a rhythm out of how his fingers soother over your sweat slicked skin. “who i’m sure can speak for herself if she wants my hands off her.”

out of all the men, seonghwa has always been the one san despised most. between the constant boasting of wealth- money he acquired through labor, though not the working kind- and the disrespect he’s never had a problem showing towards others, he never fails to strike a nerve, awakening a dark part of san’s brain that activates his fight or flight response. by far, however, his arrogance is the worst, that sense of entitlement that drives him to think everything and everyone is a piece of clay for him to mold and manipulate till they fit his ideal shape.

the rich boy’s hand smoothes over your naked shoulder and san can’t resist glaring up at him.

“c’mon san, now’s hardly the time to be modest,” behind the oldest swimmer, yunho and wooyoung seem to be battling an inner conflict, yunho fighting to keep his towel in place and wooyoung fighting to keep the shame off his face while his dick visibly strains against the confines of his chlorine-covered swimwear. “not after the show you two just put on.”

“we didn’t,” it’s the first time you manage to speak since covering san’s tongue in your cum, breathing at last steady and face hidden from everyone’s view, much to san’s despair. “know you were watching.”

“and, if you had known, would you have stopped?” yunho is the one asking the question and, suddenly, san’s so much more aware of what exactly he’s hiding underneath his towel.

you give no answer.

“of course she wouldn’t,” seonghwa answers for you, hand moving to grasp the back of your neck. with no warning, he grips a little too tight for comfort and and yanks you backwards, till you’re staring right into san’s eyes and the only thing keeping you perched in his lap is seonghwa’s body pressed flat against yours. “there’s nothing a whore loves more than an audience, right?”

if put on trial in a court of law and sworn to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, over whether or not you’d just clenched around nothing at park seonghwa’s degrading name, you’d plead that you never did such a thing.

you’d be found guilty.

“poor woo nearly came untouched just watching you two. isn’t that right?” the eldest turns to stare back at where you imagine wooyoung to be. “pretty boy nearly whined just at the thought of being in san’s position, a mouth full of cunt and someone using him like the fuck-toy he is.”

the air grows thick, between you, and san, and every other living being in the room. it feels like the walls are closing in on themselves with every second that passes, the sweat dripping down your back and coming to a rest between your arse cheeks evidence that the space is heating up. or maybe it’s just your body, hardly processing the high it’s just come down from and there’s already another source for a new-found arousal, a source in the shape of three muscular men stood behind you and one beneath you, eyes wary as he gazes into your own, like he wants to ask if you’re okay but all the blood is too busy circulating in his crotch for his brain to be productive.

“now, i hardly think it’s very nice of you to get our wooyoung all riled up and not even offer to help him out.” you decide you’re being lulled into a false sense of safety the second you feel the pressure of seonghwa’s hand leave your skin. behind you, there’s a shuffling of footsteps that call you to crane your neck and catch a glimpse of what exactly is going on but san’s eyes beg you to keep staring into his, to count the galaxies that dance within them while he grips at your waist. “so the chance to offer is off the table and you’re simply going to do as told. doesn’t that sound easier, hmm? no having to make pesky decisions, just spread those legs and follow orders.”

at last, you get your first glimpse at jung wooyoung.

he sits down on the bench, no more than a breath of space between where you and san are perched. he’s a vision in himself, shoulders hunched and embarrassed face the same shade of red as the tip of his cock, an angry looking bulbous head poking out the top of far-too-tight speedos.

san’s grip tightens the longer you stare at the other boy, gaze dancing over the shape of his body and mouth-watering as, for the first time, you see the appeal of jung wooyoung. never before have you understood why eyes follow him in the hallways, like he’s more than just another pretty boy on campus- something that’s in abundance. but you see it now, understand the appeal of his stand-out nose; and the veins that run down his arms; and floppy style to his hair, that seems to be calling out to have your fingers running through it. 

with no prior warning, the grip on your hips tightens even more, till san is digging crescents into the soft skin and he’s lifting you, off of his lap and right into wooyoung’s.

the usually boisterous boy’s eyes meet yours, no longer filled with that spark of defiance and, instead, glazed over in tears, a quiet pleading being exchanged between you.

only, you’re unsure what he’s begging of you.

“are you going to just sit there,” seonghwa speaks up, boredom in his tone that has you picturing him rolling his eyes and picking at his manicured nails. “or are you going to help the poor pup cum?”

“what?!” that certainly helps you find your voice, and the guts to turn around and look at the man.

you find him stood closer than you imagined, with tailored trousers hugging his thighs and a perfectly ironed shirt tucked into them, the last few messy buttons the only indication he’d rushed to dress himself. eyes looking past him, you find more of a friendly aura in yunho, who, despite fighting a battle against the towel wrapped around his figure, manages to shoot a smile at you.

and then there’s san, who stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and a painfully obvious boner resting in the confines of his swimwear, though he’s done a better job at keeping himself concealed than the boy beneath you. his face appears indifferent, yet the twitch in his eye speaks of a tamed anger, a frustration he’s yet to unleash on the men who’d interrupted him amidst his feast.

“are you now deaf along with being dumb or something?” the eldest pulls your attention back to him with little effort, a smirk meeting the glare you shoot his way. “you made that brat hard, now do your job and fix the mess you’ve made.”

words of protest get lost in a surprised gasp as the boy in question takes your hand in his, veiny hand guiding you down to a veiny shaft. wooyoung wraps both of your fingers over his leaking cock, his holding yours in place around him while he ruts his hips up once, twice into your hold, the action sending his swimwear even further down the his length and exposing nearly the full sight of it to the swimming hall.

you don’t mean to compare, yet you’re incapable of ignoring the fact that while wooyoung may be on the slightly shorter side compared to san, he’s certainly leading in the thickness department, with a mushroomed head and the prettiest trail of trimmed hairs leading down his pelvis.

he guides you over his shaft a number of times, a little less shy now as he outwardly whines when your thumb runs over his tip, wiping away the fat bead of precum resting upon it. at some point, he moves his hand away, needing both of his free to lean back on the bench, yet yours keeps moving at it’s own volition, stroking him in a pattern of threes, interrupting every trio with a swipe over his tip or a fondle of his still-concealed balls.

“please,” the whine in his voice is so unlike the jung wooyoung you’ve watched week after week, hurling abuse and echoing boasts of his own talents while keeping himself afloat in the swimming pool.

“he asked nicely.” you’d just about forgotten about everyone else in the room, until seonghwa’s irritatingly unbothered voice serves to remind you of his presence. “rule number one: good behaviour is rewarded.”

“what do i,” you interrupt your own question to glance over wooyoung once more. “do?” you pinch your thigh, skin stinging as nails bite it, and confirm with yourself that this is not a dream but, in fact, very much real.

jung wooyoung is hard and begging you to do something.

“i don’t care how you do it, just put one of your holes to good use for once and make him cum.”

there’s still an echo of seonghwa’s voice by the time you successfully manage to rid wooyoung of his swimwear, the damp fabric clinging to the warm skin and the taut muscles of his thighs. the boy isn’t much help either, seemingly reduced to nothing but a writhing, panting mess instead of someone competent enough to raise himself off the bench just enough for you to undress him.

the sight is mesmerising, one you’re certain will remain ingrained in your memory till the day you die: wooyoung, disheveled and untouched, with his achingly hard cock pressed flat against his lower stomach, his swimmer-thighs spread with a set of balls between them that you find yourself near salivating over as a trickle of his own precum runs down them.

“your cock’s...” you begin to speak, yet trail off as your digits wrap themselves around his shaft, just to delight in the way his breath jumps when you drag your hand upwards and give a soft squeeze as you reach the head. “so pretty, woo.”

“youngie.” seonghwa cuts in from behind you. “he prefers to be called youngie when he’s getting his cock teased.”

“yeah, youngie?” you try it out.

instantly, he nods and something akin to a whimper flies out of him.

fascinated by his shaky breaths and his pretty chest, where warm, tanned skin appears to be near glowing under the swimming halls bright lights as his cheeks flush a palette full of reds and pinks, your eyes are completely fixed on him. there’s something vulnerable and breakable about the way he’s looking at your with the widest of eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip receiving countless abuse from his teeth.

never have you been so desperate to push someone past their own limits.

officially running on nothing but pure instincts, you close your mind off to thoughts, like how the boy you’d spent weeks avoiding and missing is stood only metres away, witnessing the way the tip of your finger teases over the slit of his sport rival’s cock. or like how park seonghwa, perhaps the campus’ most infamous trust-fund baby, seems to have complete control of the situation at hand, yourself and jung wooyoung nothing but idolised dolls he’s moving into whatever obscene position he wants you in.

instead, you focus on how wooyoung’s eyes roll back and he lets out a gasp when you gather up fluids from within your salivating mouth and part your own lips, watching how your own spit drips onto his lower stomach, and your hand, and his painfully hard cock.

the saliva serves not only as a visual pleasure, something that’s awakening inside of you at the sight of it leaving you with whole new kind of excitement bubbling along your body, but as a physical pleasure for wooyoung, who seems to have no protest to how much easier it is to slide your hand up his length with the added lubrication of your own spit. 

“fuck...” he curses under his breath and his hands find purchase on your body, one gripping your hip while the other grabs at your forehand, like he’s scared you’ll release the grip you have on him and strip away the sweet release of friction. “don’t just focus on the tip- shit, ah- play with my balls too.”

“wooyoung!” ready to oblige, ready to give the pretty faced boy anything he demanded of you, you’ve no time to think of a reply before the ringmaster of this circus reminds you of his overlooking presence behind your back. “stop speaking like an ungrateful brat and take what you’re given. or else... well, i’m sure you don’t need reminding of what happens to pups that misbehave.”

the way jung wooyoung’s whole body grows rigid beneath you, paired with the countless times park seonghwa has butted in to speak on the boy’s sexual preferences, leaves you with the sense that the two are not only acquainted with how each other’s bodies move underwater..

“s-sorry,” this is not the voice of boastful jung wooyoung, who near bounces down the college halls and airdrops nudes in class because he’s bored. this is a voice that’s soft and meek. like a beady-eyed puppy, so quick to submit to it’s owner. “just feels too good. i’m sorry”

“yeah, you will be sorry.” seonghwa’s hand is cold against your back and it lulls a shiver out of you as fingers trickle down your spine like water off a duck’s wings. part of you hates him for stealing wooyoung’s attention off of you just as you were beginning to revel in it, a larger part of you wants to know why the sternness in his voice is enough to have your clit aching to be touched. “spitfire, be a good cocksleave and sit on his dick.”

“ok, stop!” a sense of shame comes over you when it takes hearing san’s outburst to remember the fact he’s watching the scene unfold. “don’t you think you’re taking this too far now, park seonghwa? i know you and wooyoung have your... agreement on how you treat each other, but don’t drag someone else into it. not when she never even asked for this.”

“you had your tongue tasting the eighth wonder of the world on that bench twenty minutes ago, both of you knowing there was a chance you’d be caught, and you want to tell me no one was asking for this?”

“that was private! you guys are the ones who-”

“there’s no such thing as privacy in a public area. besides, it’s hardly like she’s not enjoying this. if anything, i think spitfire doesn’t like the way you’re getting in the way of her teaching youngie a lesson in obedience.” you’re naive to think no one would notice the way you’ve began to grind down on wooyoung’s cock, stealing whimpers out of him as the soaked lips of your pussy rubbed up against him and holding back your own moans each time his tip meets the bundle of nerves that make up your clit. “choi, if you’re that much of a pissy pants that can’t enjoy himself even just this once in life, then feel free to leave. i’m sure the four of us will be too occupied to notice your absence.”

you’re not paying close enough attention to figure out if san’s newfound silence is due to his departure, or if he’s simply too stunned to speak, your eyes focused on nothing and no one but the boy at your mercy.

the initial burn of wooyoung breaching your entry reminds you of how long it’s been since you’d been stretched open by something other than someone’s cold fingers or wagging tongue. it’s been more or less three long months of juggling test after test, assignments piling up on your desktop and a relationship with your now ex-boyfriend being tossed completely into the gutter.

not once had you thought your return to the world of sexual bliss would be in front of an audience, much less at the very place you work.

doubting that it’s been as long for him as it has for you, wooyoung still spares nothing when it comes to reacting to your touch. with eyes squeezing shut, head rolling back, abdomen muscles flexing along side every shaken intake of breath, the boy puts on a show so pornographic it puts the professionals to shame. a whine exits his lips, lips that carry marks of his own teeth and look like they’re in need of a healthy dose of chapstick, and look so disgustingly kissable that your own tingle at the thought.

all those rumours of jung wooyoung being a camboy rush to the forefront of your mind, feeling truer than ever when your eyes take in the bob of his adam’s apple, and the perfectly timed run of his tongue over his lower lip, and the pretty way in which the prominent veins in his hands looks as he clamps his grip down on your hips.

he’s a sight worth paying for. 

“are you okay?” not the first thing you’d imagined saying after sinking all the way down on his cock, the need to check up on him taking over before you’d even noticed it’s existence.

“yeah...” he sighs his way through the word, eyes still closed and grip still very much tight on your skin, blunt fingertips likely leaving crescent moons you’ll find yourself staring at for days to come, memories of this moment replaying in a rose-tinted haze. “just need a second, you- you feel good, fuck me.”

“i’m kinda already doing that, youngie.” you giggle, like a lovesick adolescent speaking to their crush of the week, but the boy’s instant smile upon hearing it puts out the fire of shame building in the pit of your stomach.

“hmm,” he hums back, acknowledging your words without giving you the satisfaction of hearing him tell you how you’re correct. “are you okay?”

wooyoung flips the question on you and it parallels with the way he pulls the rains in physically, lithe hips thrusting upwards in search of feeling more, reaching deeper inside of you. in the back of your mind you already picture a look of displeasure on park seonghwa’s face, scowling lips loading up to berate you and demand you take repossession of jung wooyoung’s sanity.

“yeah, i’m-” with the eldest man in mind, you stop and compose yourself, as well as you can while wooyoung’s mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts. “i’m wondering who told you you were allowed to touch me?”

control is easily regained, all it takes is your hand squeezing around jung wooyoung’s throat and your soaked walls clenching around his aching cock and he’s melting like ice cream on a warm summer’s day, leaving behind a sticky mess.

satisfaction and pleasure come crashing in tandem, wave after wave moving in motion with each lethargic roll of your body against the swimmer’s, who seems to be a quicker learner than you’d believed him to be, hands flying off your body like it was made up of hot stones and, instead, now holding a firm and grounding grip of the bench beneath you both.

“harder.” you feel a hint of emotion within park seonghwa’s voice this time he speaks. it’s fleeting, and hard to make out quite what feeling it is he’s experiencing, but it’s there and it’s certainly a step up from the usual shameless, egotistical, megalomaniac tone he takes on. “squeeze his throat tighter.”

under the possession of his commanding tone, you find yourself caving into his command, fingers pressing a little harder into wooyoung’s warm skin. the boy gulps down whatever pride he has and delivers a pleasured whine. you grind down harder and an evil, twisted part of you you’ve never met before longs to laugh at the way he so desperately is struggling to keep his composure, fighting back the urge to meet your hips with his own upward thrusts.

so, you do. 

“hear that, youngie?” seonghwa’s voice becomes less grating each time you hear it, once an unwelcome and intrusive thought but now a second voice and a valued player in a game of wreck the wooyoung. “you’re being laughed at. isn’t that just pathetic?”

“y-yes, fuck-” he falls victim to your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock in a vice grip. the image of confidence withers away so easily to reveal a teary-eyed, pretty-faced, cum-desperate man. “i’m pathetic.”

“yeah, you are.” seonghwa circles his way around the rocking bench, no longer out of view hidden behind your back but, instead, staring you down with piercing eyes that cut through you like a knife to hot butter. “he’s getting close. never lasts long, really, even seen him cum untouched just from giving me head. but that’s okay, isn’t it youngie? you’re a slut for having your sack drained, huh?”

the swimmer beneath you has never looked redder than he does right now, secrets of his sexual nature getting exposed to the people he likely considers his biggest athletic competition. though you probably should, you don’t push him away when his face finds safety in the crook of your neck, parted lips covering your burning skin in sticky drool.

“don’t let him fool you guys, he’s into the degrading nature of it all. trust me.” you wonder if it should concern you the way seonghwa speaks about jung wooyoung as though he’s nothing but a pet, a possession of which he just so happens to have complete control over. you’re more concerned with the fact it excites you. “call him a good boy, i dare you.”

the words haven’t even formed in your throat and the boy between your thighs is gripping onto your waist a little tighter, lips near pouting and eyes screwed shut in uncontrollable pleasure, burning down his spine and threatening to push him over the edge of sexual bliss.

you consider having mercy, the inexperienced side of you thinking the boy looks like he’s full of shame and embarrassment. the throbbing of his rock hard cock repeatedly stuffing your aching cunt reminds you he’s getting off on the humiliation.

“is he a good boy, though?” you stare up at park seonghwa, not even sparing a whimpering wooyoung any attention as he begins a rambled protest to defend his good behaviour. “i mean, i don’t remember telling him he could touch me. do you, hwa?”

the hands that grip you tightly let go quick, like your skin were an unexpectedly warm stove, scorching his skin right off him.

“i don’t remember either,” the eldest’s agreement has you reeling in a way you never expected, filling you with a new found sense of control.

a control that is ripped away far too quickly, like park seonghwa sensed you growing falsely confident over the situation at hand.

like a shark circling it’s prey, the tall man makes his way back around the bench, each fall of his shoe-covered feet echoing in the quiet swim hall. click, click, click, and he’s right at your back, not a word uttered as the soft of his palm lands on the nape of your neck. achingly slow does it travel down the expanse of your back, not a single noise filling the space other than the rise and fall of your body on top of wooyoung’s and the same boy’s poorly contained moans and mewls of pleasure.

the silence is interrupted by your own shocked gasp, mouth falling agape in shock as your movements come to a complete halt. his hands, no longer soft and delicate, grip you in an iron-tight hold, fingers greedy as they dig into your meaty flesh with no mercy or regard for the pain it may inflict on you.

“no, get up,” like a switch was flipped in as little as a minute, park seonghwa’s voice has lost all sense of the excitement it had whilst he spoke on jung wooyoung’s dirty endeavours and has returned back to the cold, callous, commanding tone it had originally.

he sounds angry, feels angry in the way the fingers of his free hand tangle themselves in the hair at the back of your head and give a harsh tug, forcing your head back till you’re met with his scowling face and perfectly groomed hair, even in it’s dampened state it seems to frame his face perfectly.

“what?” you babble out, dumbstruck, much like the desperate boy beneath you who’s began to mutter apology after apology between pleadings of please no don’t do this and i promise i’ll behave, i’ll keep my hands to myself.

none of it works.

“you heard me. get. up.” the fingers on your waist tug, pull, drag you away from the quivering mess that has become of jung wooyoung, who near sobs as the cool air hits his now painfully hard cock, tip redder than the bottom of your favourite heels and a vein more prominent under his sensitive skin than the ones on his muscular arms. you’re not given much of a chance to process what’s happening before seonghwa speaks again. “wooyoung, up, now. you’re not getting to cum, so get off the bench and make room for someone else.”

the boy makes no further attempt to protest, cheeks painted pink in shame and chest shining with sweat as he shakily rises to his feet, head hung low when you watch him walk out of your line of sight.

then, your knees meet the floor.

park seonghwa chuckles as you go down, hands finding grip in your hair and forcing you to sit up right. heart beating faster, your mind begins to race with questions of what comes next, who comes next.

what dirty desires are about to be unveiled within you, forced into the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the swimming hall?

“jeong, you’re up,” seonghwa’s knee digs into your back and his fingers tug until your scalp begins to sting a little. you don’t want to like it but, in life, you don’t always get what you want.

there’s a series of shuffles behind you, followed by heavy footsteps. there’s no rush, yet no hesitation, just calm and collected footsteps of someone making their way over to do god knows what with you.

when jeong yunho, with his towel that’s looking a lot tighter around his crotch still around his waist, steps into frame, an inexplicable sense of comfort washes over you.

maybe it’s the way he smiles down at you, or the fact his hands brush seonghwa’s off of you, or the way his fingers take a hold of your chin once he’s seated in front of you.

maybe it’s just the fact he’s jeong yunho, campus himbo with a reputation for walking girls home at night just to make sure they’re safe and for singing britney spears with no shame each time the karaoke mic gets passed around.

whatever it is, it’s turning you on.

your knees are burning with fresh pain as park seonghwa shoves you closer to the mammoth of a man and you can’t help but swallow down the ball of anxiety growing in your throat.

everything about jeong yunho’s demeanour has always seemed large, with powerful arms that drag his body through the weight of water and large hands that effortlessly carry countless textbooks through the university halls; a tall frame that helps him stand out in any crowd and a personality loud enough to set off alarms; his thighs a muscular stairway leading up to a well rounded, remarkably defined posterior. it’s safe to say he’s carried a reputation for some time, one that consists of whispers between girls on campus who recount just how well endowed he really is. 7 inches, 9 inches, 12 inches, you’ve heard it all, each girl claiming it to be bigger than the last.

unfortunately, there’s no ruler at your disposal to uncover the truth of the rumours, but you confirm he’s certainly large as you watch him undo the towel. larger than you’ve ever seen before, with a thickness to match, and two heavy looking balls decorating the base.

he wraps a hand around it and you watch how he gives a light squeeze at the head, slowly sliding down the length of it till he reaches the tuft of groomed hairs on his pelvic bone. one of his hands alone holds half of his cock, leaving you almost certain you’d need to use both hands on him.

“d’you want it, sweetheart?” his words are teasing but his voice is soft, a complete one-eighty to the verbal berating you’ve been receiving- and enjoying- from park seonghwa.

you’re sure he notices the way you clench your thighs as he slaps his cock once, then twice against his stomach, the precum leaking out on to his tanned skinned.

there’s an itch inside your throat, one you imagine only he can scratch.

“you wanna taste it?” he’s still speaking to you through the arousal that fogs over your brain, commanding your tongue to swipe over your bottom lip as you burn your gaze at the glistening liquid on his warm skin, tastebuds aching to have him paint them in white.

you nod your head.

his own throws itself back, a chuckle rupturing out of his chest as he continues to tease himself with his hand.

“fuck, yeah, bet you can’t wait to taste my cock, feel it stab the back of your tight throat.” a smile should never look so sweet while it’s part of the same mouth spewing out such filth. somehow, jeong yunho makes it work. “gonna get it nice and wet for me, yeah? make it sloppy, i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock.”

the knee that’s suddenly digging it’s way into your back has no mercy. you wince, pull in a sharp breath and inch just that little bit closer to the bench. like a glove fits a hand, you slip right in between the muscled tree trunks that make up jeong yunho’s thighs. 

you wonder, if only momentarily, what sweet a death it would be to be crushed between them, taut muscles constricting the flow of air to your lungs like a boa with its prey.

but there’s a far more preferable way to be choked by the man before you, body carved out in such definition you fear michael angelo himself stands in admiration of it.

his hand snakes its way around your body, warm and heavy and imposing with the grip it settles for at the base of your neck. in spite of the sharp stab coming from behind- where you have no doubt one park seonghwa stands with disgruntled impatience written all over his irritatingly perfect face- there is no doubt in your mind that the man in front of you holds the reigns. with eyes of honey and lips of velvet, he peers down at you with a tendered expression, saying nothing yet everything with the gentle, repeated sooth of his thumb over your skin.

you need no verbal instructions this time around.

a hand grips the base of him as the other squeezes the flesh of your own thigh, piercing your skin with just enough pressure to assure you this is the reality you find yourself in, rather than some twisted, substance influenced dream.

the first taste is the sweetest, tongue a missionary sent into the foreign land of his body to discover the way he reacts as you drag it over the tip. he gives nothing but a squeeze to the back of your neck; and that crumbles you under his control.

with a few more kitten licks- for good luck, if anything,- the show begins with the parting of your lips, the widening of your mouth, the burning of your skin as you struggle with your ability to swallow him whole. you make it no further than a third of his length before he’s tugging gently on your roots and bringing you back to the surface of existence.

“breathe, okay,” his voice is gentle, calming your nerves yet sending your heart into a fit of patternless beats. “inhale, exhale, got it? through the nose, that’s gonna help you relax.”

doing as he says, you swallow three whole breaths. shaky, ragged, each feeling hollow in your chest in comparison to the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“pretty girl,” he practically coos, hand cupping your chin as his thumb smoothes over the swell of your bottom lip. it’s tender, sweet, and almost enough to make you forget the sight of his engorged cock that sits angrily between his tree-trunk shaped thighs, crying out for the return of your mouth’s affection. “someone’s gotta teach you to not be greedy, hmm? small little mouth of yours is no fit for me, don’t go choking on it.”

heat flashes between your thighs, your heartbeat dropping right down to your clit and leaving you with a burning ache, the kind only a gentleman like this could soothe. your fingers may have to do, however, if the stubborn arsehole behind you would be so kind as to let you enjoy yourself.

the way park seonghwa curls his hand round the front of your neck and flexes his nimble fingers- that goddamn family heirloom ring a punishing cold to your warm skin, near brandishing you as touched by some nepotism child- when you do so little as clench your thighs together to relieve the pressure, or lack-there-of, between your thighs tells you he’ll grant you no such fun.

“you’d need to have something big enough for her to choke on,” san, precious san. still here, still somewhere beneath this god-forsaken tin-can roof swimming pool, watching you bruise your knees and your ego for another man, another one of his team-mates. what must he think of you? has he lost whatever respect he may have had? does he think he’d been just another body to exchange fluids with, that night at the party? if you could just see his face, you’d not need to wonder all these things. his eyes, they always give him away, too earnest and pure for his own good.

“shut it, choi,” yunho’s bark isn’t half as loud as seonghwa’s booming commands have been, and are nowhere near as malignant. if anything, the gentle giant is humoured by his team-mate’s words, as if he knows they’re a preposterous thing to say about him. then again, you can’t imagine any man remaining humble about themselves if they were so well-endowed. “or do you wanna crack out the measuring tape again and remind yourself of just how much of me there is to choke on?”

silence.

it takes a few moments for the spotlight to return to you, a gradual shift from playful to lust driven energy encapsulating the broad frame of the man before. he cups your cheek, feather-light touch smoothing over your skin while his eyes burrow daggers into your soul.

why must his shoulders be so wide? it almost angers you as much as it sends a wave of heat between your legs.

almost, but not quite.

“‘s cute,” he half mumbles, distracted by the sight you paint below him on your knees, bruises already forming and thighs clenching for some relief of pressure. “your little pussy’s all wet just from having my cock in your mouth.”

“i think you’re forgetting she was bouncing on woo’s dick a few minutes ago, yunho,” the devil on your shoulder won’t let you rest, hand snaking through the threads of your hair and tugging on your roots. not enough to hurt, just enough to sting. “have some modesty.”

“sure, let’s act like i’m not the one who had her cumming all over my face a while ago.” san mumbles a string of words you wish you could unhear, face heating up as the shame burns through your bloodstream.

how had you gotten here?

you’re allowed no such freedom to ponder over previous actions as jeong yunho’s all encompassing frame works to remind you of where you find yourself: on your knees dressed in nothing but your own shame- shame which seems to slip off of you, piece by piece, baring you shamelessly to this pack of wolf-eyed boys’ for their eyes to feast upon.

strong, veiny hands reach out and drag you forwards, just an inch yet it’s all you need to feel the weight of park seonghwa’s domineering figure float off of you, rendering you under the control of this much larger, far smilier looking man. “eyes on me, okay? don’t wanna miss the way i’m about to make them roll back.”

there begins a game of push and pull, where jeong yunho pushes you closer and closer to his evident arousal, all the while teasing you as he pulls his hips back, keeping your waiting mouth open and empty, and oh-so frustrated at the feeling of being so close yet so far away from his dripping tip.

the first real taste you get of him does, in fact, nearly have your eyes rolling back. a kitten lick, barely there yet fully felt, running over the underside of his cock, a taste of salted skin, and musky sweat, and stale chlorine mixing in with the warmth of him flooding your senses. his reaction is no more composed than yours, blatantly parting his lips in a gasp and bucking his hips up, forwards, any direction they need follow to chase after your mouth.

happy to comply, you take pride in tasting him a second time, this time right over the growing drop of pre-cum pebbling on his tip. white flashes behind your closing eyes as his grip in your hair tightens, a pulse of heat firing straight down your spine as your mind floods with images of what it must be like to watch this man, this gentleman, this figure that so wholly encompasses what it means to be a himbo in this day and age lose his cool and revolt into his most carnal, basal instincts to take whatever pleasure he needs from you with a reckless abandon, burrow his throbbing cock down your throat till the beat of his heart takes over your own.

instead, you settle for wrapping your lips around him, at last, and letting him guide you just that little bit down his length. the weight of him feels nice, a strange sense of comfort birthing in your bones as you grow used to feel of him taking up your palate. his breaths seem to run in tandem with the inches he sinks deep between your parted lips.

a deep breath, he lowers you further, till your left cheek begins to bulge out.

tongue pinned to the floor of your mouth, you make use of it as best you can, rolling it over the bottom of his shaft and earning yourself a plethora of gratifying sounds, each deep and desperate and crooning straight out of jeong yunho’s broad chest. 

another deep breath, another inch.

for all the false dominance you wield over the situation, with the heat of your mouth and spill of your own saliva slickening his cock, his real and visceral dominance doubles it by tenfold, with a hand on the back of your neck, guiding your every move, and a knowing, gentle look cast downwards at you from where he sits propped on the bench, thighs a heavy mass to case your body between. a silly little voice in your head whispers a seductive tale of how easily this man could get you in a headlock and suffocate your fragile windpipes. a wave of heat, this one going right down to your core and forcing you to pay attention to it, shifting awkwardly and clenching the muscles in your own legs in hopes of getting some pitiful amount of pressure.

all breathing stops as he hits the back of your throat.

hands pulling tight, a biting pain ripping through your hair and a tired gag creeping out of your constricting throat, yunho holds you still and strong, as unmoving as the mountains that fill the horizon from your bedroom window.

he’s not even fully in, an arguably obscene amount of him still awaiting some form of attention beyond the spill of the spit filling up your mouth. but there’s nowhere for it to go, not within your mouth at least, and so you manoeuvre your hand up and grip the neglected inches, the tip of your pinkie teasingly brushing over the swell of his balls.

he lurches forward, gasping in a breath of air at last. “fucking christ- shit,” he grits his teeth. “her mouth’s warm.”

“well, obviously. this your first time getting a blowjob or something, jeong?” god, the reminder of seonghwa being here, somewhere behind you, fox eyes judging your every move and keeping his cool, no matter how hard you’d seen his cock straining in those ridiculous pant-suit trousers he sports. it’s sickening.

“yeah, yunho, watch out before you have a repeat of 2019.���

if the taller jeong wants to snap at the other, you never find out, instead dedicating yourself to the glory of worshipping him between your parted lips and tight throat, jaw ready to lock itself in place so long as it keeps him inside.

you treat him differently than you’d treated san that night. you’d been tipsy then, buzzing off the colourful shots of who-knows-what you’d been conned into downing a half hours before, mind hazy as you kneeled between him and teased your tongue over every crevice of him it could reach, dripping him in drool and working an ache into your overused tongue by the time you got watched him spill over the edge of ecstasy. that wasn’t even about san’s pleasure, no real care put into getting him off, your own selfish need to indulge in the pleasure of feeling, tasting, worshipping him taking precedence.

but, right now, you’re overwhelmingly sober, mind hazed only by a cloud of inexplicable lust that rolled in the moment san shot you his stupid smile, and you care about making jeong yunho cum. in fact, it’s the only thing on your mind as you bob your head up and down, letting his own hand guide your pace.  

“shh, shh,” he’s hushing your own struggles for breath and carding his fingers through the tresses of your hair, his legs clamping down on either side of you, pinning you in your rightful place. “taking it so good, baby. so fucking good.”

good’s not good enough.

you want to leave him mind-blown, exhausted, unhinged. you want him clenching his jaw, and baring his teeth, and stuttering over any praise he tries to give you. in fact, you need it, need that thrill-driven lust of collapsing the sanity of a man as broad and strong and capable as him.

so you pick up the pace, fight against the steady up-and-down of his grip and try to take just that little bit more of him in your mouth and down your throat, till you’ve no doubt there’s a visible bulge of where he sits down your windpipe. you think back on what he said- i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock- and work towards doing just that, mouth a fountain of over-flowing spit that paints lines down your chin and over his heavy balls. the hand at his base lightly drags the tips of its nails over his burning skin and you physically feel the way his cock jumps in your mouth, head twitching as his hips involuntarily jolt forwards.

eyes as wide as a deer in headlights, you glance up to stare into his own, only to find they’re rolling back in his head, too caught up in the headiness of having your mouth on him to visually focus. it’s erotic, tracing your eyes over the protruding vein in his neck and the unrhythmic heaving of his chest- like every breath he pulls is a rare gift and a miracle- and the straining of his muscled thighs that hold back his urge to buck freely into your mouth, use you as nothing but a hole to get himself off with.

your free hand stakes claim over your own sexual frustration, nimble fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit in an attempt to just ease that heat burning you from the inside out.

“she’s touching herself, jeong,” not even the irritating, grating voice of park seonghwa’s unwanted commentary can take away the kick you’re getting out of working this man into a frenzy. “are you just going to let her, without your permiss-”

“shut up, park,” yunho is wrecked, voice divulging so far from that loud, boyish charm into a dark, broken sort of gruffed out thing, echoing straight out of his chest. but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t listen to the other man, doesn’t force his eyes open to glance down in a hazed daze to witness your pathetic attempts to work your fingers over yourself.

only, he doesn’t tell you to stop.

he just... watches. and then smiles, squeezes out what can only be described as a broken whine, and tilts his head back once more, relinquishing all control of his body over to you. the scene divulging into a chorus of mumbled words, fuck and please and yes becoming the only word yunho knows, the only three you hear. 

only as he cums does jeong yunho regain that bit of self-control he’s lost, ripping your mouth off him- a stuttered mumble of i wanna paint that pretty face- and erupting in a mess of grunted moans, cock twitching in his palm as rope after rope of white, hot fluid shoots out of it. it’s messy, and disgusting, and sticky, marking the skin on your cheeks, nestling in your hair, dripping over your shut eyelashes.

the last drops land in your parted mouth as his grasp shakes and you regain the right to wrap your lips around his mushroomed tip.

lips stained in pearly white, cheeks and neck matching too. the throb of your neglected cunt, clenching itself around nothing but the mere thought of having jeong yunho stuff you full, break you in two and leave you spent.

the man in question is in a no better state, head thrown back and chest a heaving mess glistening with the shine of his own sweat. his mouth hangs open, near heaving in breaths of air and his hands, adopting a mind of their own, grip harder in your hair and hold you firmly in place, tongue laving over his sensitive tip, pushing him closer and closer to the ledge of overstimulation.

“fuck- uh, fucking look at you,” sweet voice, foul words. two fingers drag over your cheek, coating themselves in the sticky substance he’s painted you in. “drooling all over me.”

he’s right, you are drooling. down your chin, an uncomfortable damp coat covers your overheating skin as you continue to stretch your lips around his length, ready to rip another thigh-shuddering orgasm out of the man.

yunho grants you no such pleasure.

instead, a grip tugs back on your hair and, before you can feebly attempt to catch your fleeing breath, he’s pulling you up into his lap, straddling you across the well-defined muscles of his thigh. those big, capable hands he pushes himself through pools, and rivers, and all other bodies of water manipulate your limbs however he likes, a rag-doll free for him to toy with for as long as he sees fit.

“yun-” you don’t even manage to say his name properly, not when he grinds you down into his lap, smothering his tanned skin in your juices. the friction runs straight for your pulsing clit and you’re rendered to sinking into his welcoming arms, head collapsing into the crook of his neck, parted lips panting up a storm against his sweated skin.

“that nice for you, angel?” the soft words, the rough hands, the perfect roll of your hips. you feel like you could sob, break apart completely. yunho tracing a hand up the curve of your spine and soothing his long fingers over a knot in you back doesn’t help your case. “bet it is. little bit of release to all that tension you’ve been feeling, yeah?”

you think you nod.

it’s hard to tell.

sparks fly within your loins, heating you from the inside out. yunho, at some point, has wound his fist into the tresses of your hair, nails scrapping along your scalp. it’s pleasurable, all over, soothing you into a state of utter relaxation, a being with no purpose other than to take whatever this mass of warmth and muscles and width offers you.

his hand makes a fist and gently tugs, forcing a whine out of you as you’re faced with the bright lights once more. traces of his own cum stain the very place your face had lay. it’s erotic to see, drying up your tongue with a need to lick it clean.

“no, no, focus, right here,” a single finger taps at your cheek, followed by the tilting of your chin that forces you to stare back at the hungry eyes of jeong yunho. “eyes on me. want a front row seat to watching your eyes roll back.”

god, he’s filthy, and delicate, and that just makes him all that more filthy.

swiping his digits through the remnants of his sticky cum, he makes sure you’re staring right back at him as those same fingers snake their way down between your grinding bodies and burrow themselves deep in your soaked heat. shallow pumps of his hand fuck his cum-coated fingers deeper, long and lithe enough he barely needs to move to have you feeling him all over, everywhere.

by the time he curls them, pressing against that spongy wall, you’re just about ready to cry.

“think she’s gonna cum,” oh god, no, why must he remind you of your audience? why does it no longer frighten you to have eyes watching you be defiled but, rather, have you clenching around him tighter, chasing that fever-like ecstasy the man means to deliver? “she’s gripping my fingers so tight- shit, almost makes me wanna bust my load just thinking how warm her pussy would feel round my cock.”

“don’t let her cum,” you vow, some day, to wring the neck of park seonghwa. “just cause she’s gone all cockdrunk doesn’t mean she’s earnt-”

“shut up, hwa,” the boy’s thumb pokes up and you can’t help the way you grind down into it, smothering your clit in whatever pressure you can get. “pretty baby’s more than earned it. stop being bitter that i’m the one who’s gonna give her it.”

give you it, he does.

three fingers deep, the cocktail of your wetness mixing with his cum-cated digits aiding the ebb and flow of his rhythm, jeong yunho has your toes curling, eyes rolling, thighs shaking. you blackout, for only a moment, lost in the wilderness of pleasure.

the aftershocks are barely kicking in when you’re suddenly ripped away from yunho’s hold. the sounds of your beating heart and heaving chest muffle the disgruntled exchange of words between the swim-team, inhibiting your ability to stay clued-in on the events that surround you. all you know is that when your body meets the bench once more, on all wobbly fours, jeong yunho no longer sits tall and proud.

a sharp sting hits your rear- a smack, that echoes in the empty space of the swimming hall. the only appropriate response is the shriek you let out, twisted in your own conflicting emotions of pain, and pleasure, and painful pleasure. a second smack meets the other cheek. this time, there’s no doubt a wanton whine escapes you.

“since the rest of them can’t take orders,” you’d already known it was seonghwa whose hands were suddenly all over you, pinning you in a position of submission. the sound of his grandiose voice sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, top to tail. “i’ll have to do it myself.”

with no word of warning, he smooths his hands down the globes of your ass, teases the crease of skin where your inner thigh meets your dripping heat, and fucks two whole fingers into your sensitive core. knuckles deep, they sit still upon initial intrusion, basking in the warmth of you and coating themselves in the essence from an orgasm you’ve yet to even fully recover from and the cum yunho’d scooped off your own face.

then, at last, when your nails dig marks into the wood below, he curls them a come-hither motion.

with shame painted on your skin, you toss your head back and release an inhumane cry, eyes hazily gazing up at the horrendous white lights above. “oh god!”

“not quite. i do appreciate the flattery though,” there’s no need to glance over your shoulder to know that pompous, trust-fund baby is wearing the most earth-shattering smirk, some stupid strand of his perfectly groomed hair dangling over one of his eyes, like some 90s heartthrob boy-band member. you do it anyway.

park seonghwa is an unfairly attractive man, sporting a beauty so ethereal it almost makes you angry.

that anger seems to dampen the wetter he gets you.

his touch is slow, but by no means is it gentle. calculated and malevolent, he plays with your insides like they’re nothing but the strings to your puppet. a curl of his fingers and one of your hands shoots forward. the torturously slow pace that he pumps his digits in and out, and your jaw falls slack. his thumb bumps and grinds against your throbbing clit, and your elbows give out, sending you crashing face-first down onto the bench.

his free hand presses down on your lower back, bending you deeper, hiking your ass up higher in the air. and, at first, you think you’re imagining it, that trickle of warmth against your other entrance, believing it nothing but a trick of your melting brain.

you’re who-knows how many hours deep in a whirlwind of pleasure and penetrative stares, people have been driven to the brink of insanity over far less in the past.

but then seonghwa’s fingers leave your cunt, warm and wet trails following their journey over your skin. there’s no imaginative mind great enough in this universe to conjure up that initial shock to feeling how he prods and pokes at your puckered hole, lubricating it with the dirty mixture of both you and yunho’s cum and his very own spit.

the tip of his pointer finger ventures onward first, breaking through the surface of your tight muscles in a shallow intrusion.

the feeling has you frozen, frightened, intrigued. eyes widening, moans dying, pussy pulsating in an empty need.

“don’t go getting shy on us now, spitfire,” the collective language he uses brings back the weight of all the boys’ eyes on you. hesitantly, you angle your face off the bench, and regret it the instant you meet the brown comfort of his eyes. “fun’s just starting. ain’t that right, san?”

a tense energy takes over the large room, with san’s shoulders tensing, and yunho’s feet fidgeting, and wooyoung’s cheeks blushing. seonghwa seems impervious to the shift, whether voluntarily or not, and instead invites himself to further exploring the limits of your body.

he’s kind enough to spare a bit of care into the way his finger sinks deeper into your unexplored hole. another dribble of his hot saliva lands messily onto you, aiding the slip and slide of his hand. two, or three, or four strokes of his finger and you’re submitting to the intrusion, hips rutting higher and presenting yourself more to the man.

“come here,” the command calls over your body and, at first, you think its aimed at you. so you try scooting further back, only to be halted by seonghwa speaking once again. “yeah you, choi. come get under her.”

for the first time since this all began, you’re on the precipice of saying no.

they’d listen, all of them. wouldn’t push you, pressure you or force you to keep going, not if you truly voiced your negation. even park seonghwa, as big an arsehole as he may be, would have no qualms ending his fun and agreeing to never speak of this again.

and it’s not that you don’t want choi san under you. far from it, as you’ve already made pretty clear earlier, thighs his personal ear-warmers while his tongue delved deep for your honey-suckle glory. you’re hardly uncomfortable at the thought of him under you, chest rising repeatedly in frantic breaths and legs bent at the knee to give him just the right leverage to fuck up into your messy cunt-

it’s not till he’s three feet away from you, hands fidgeting by his side, eyes looking anywhere but you and your compromising position, and the world’s most obnoxiously boner-strained tent in his swimming gear that realisation washes over you. you’re hesitating because of him, because of his possible discomfort.

what if he wants to say no? what if he doesn’t want to get under you? what if his eyes will never look into your own again, too shocked and disgusted by all the things you’ve let be done to you? by his own team-mates/rivals, too?

hell, you’ve shocked yourself even, never in a million years had you pictured a day you’d be at the mercy of some rich prick, overdressed for every occasion and looking like a vogue-cover-model reject. but when he’s edging another finger into the already-tight squeeze of your ass, and pushing your buttons just enough to nudge you towards an edge that never seems to arrive, how could you ever dream of being anywhere else?

a hand touches your cheek.

soft. tender. it takes the extra time to soothe the pads of its fingers against your burning cheek.

“you feeling okay?” san’s quiet tone, meant only for you, is enough to move you to near-tears. you crave his hug. the position you find yourself in only allows you to reach out and grasp at where his knee bends as he crouches down to your level. it’s all the same, san knows. san understands. his own hand lands on top of yours, messily threading digits.

“she’s literally stuffed with another man’s cum and you’re worried about her? well aren’t you just the sweetest.” a cheap remark from seonghwa.

san purposefully ignores it, and everything about the man, instead choosing to keep his focus on what matters.

you.

“think you could make some room for me down there?” your nose wrinkles at his choice of words.

his giggle echoes.

“no, no, not... like that,” he guides you as he talks, grip moving to your shoulders and coaxing you up into a seating position. somewhere along the way, seonghwa’s hands leave you. he doesn’t stray too far, however, and your back soon collides against his chest. “here, pretty. want you to make space for me down here.”

within seconds, choi san’s back in his rightful place: splayed out beneath you, body fit snug between your parted legs and hair an unruly, sweated mess against his forehead.

no clothing sits between you both, blessing you with the mouthwatering drag of his cock through your folds. hard, and red, and leaking at the tip, a slight curve to the right, dribbling precum against his well-toned stomach. you’re biting your lip before you fully register your own thoughts, body a mind of its own as you grind down onto him.

control is limited and fleeting, that of which seonghwa reminds you without uttering so much as a word. instead, he clamps a harsh grip down on either side of your hips, rucks you up to where he needs you and guides you down onto san’s cock.

it’s thick, imposing and something that seonghwa blesses you no time to ease into things. instead, you’re slammed down, san buried to the hilt inside of you.

“hey there,” delicate fingers skim up the tense muscles in your thigh and find pleasure in delivering a teasing tickle to your sides. “come here often?”

the cheeky grin, the double entendre, the way san looks so goddamn proud of himself for saying it. you can’t help it, you wind up giggling uncontrollably.

wrong choice. bad idea. danger zone.

san contorts in pain, and lust, and something else you’ve never seen behind his eyes before, hissing through his teeth like some feral cat. his eyes match that of a feline too. “you trying to squeeze my dick off or something?”

you compose yourself upon the reminder of that san can feel you tensing around him, pull in a deep breath and find your voice again, at last. “or... something.”

maybe you’re a little out of breath. maybe you’re a little hoarse. it doesn’t seem to matter to the boy below, his only response being to cant his hips up and lick at the fire burning in your insides.

“you two are disgusting,” once again, park seonghwa wins gold in the nobody-asked-for-you-bum-ass-opinion olympics. let’s see if he’ll continue his winning streak and go for gold in the hypocrite-athon too!

the hands on your sides begin you guide you, with seonghwa squeezing his perfectly manicured nails into your plush skin and bouncing you down onto san. up, down, up and down, repeated strokes like the ones their hands deliver each time they breach the surface.

it’s easy, this pleasure. it’s a gift, hand-delivered by two god-like men that sandwich you between them- one a mass that fills you, the other a weight that controls you. liberating in every sense, you can’t help the way your head rolls back to find purchase on one of seonghwa’s shoulders, completely melting into the ways he winds you over san.

“shit, yes, you feel,” san’s no better than you, mouth agape and hands unsteady as they trace every inch of skin they can reach: the dimples of your back, the swell of your breasts, the hood of your clit. his hips are the only steady thing about him, not a falter in the way they grind up to kiss your dripping pussy with his cock. “so good. so warm, tight. love it.”

a hand curls round your front, travels up between your breast and over your sternum. it settled for a grip a round your throat, no pressure applied, it simply exists against your windpipe, a silent threat.

“look what you do to him, hmm,” a squeeze around your neck. seonghwa’s warm breath fans against your ear, taunting you. “look what you’re doing to them.”

through your glossed-over gaze, you trail your way past the sight of san and all his captivating beauty, settling instead on the equally erotic, not-at-all surprising image that stands just past where his head rests at the edge of the wooden bench.

a sweaty wooyoung, bent at the waist and whining up a storm, while a far more composed yunho pounds his hips into the boy’s arse.

your walls clench and san whimpers, a string of curses and pleads leaving him.

“think you’re finally ready for me?” the devil on your shoulder- at your back, more truly,- smirks into your skin, careless enough to not even feign it being anything but a rhetoric question. ready or not, park seonghwa is going to finally get his own fill of the thrill, his own satisfaction, beyond mere observation and controlling.

the spill of your own wetness slips down your thighs as san continues to fuck himself deep. it doesn’t travel far as seonghwa coats himself in you, wetting his fingers before they slip back inside your ass. a few generous, tempting pumps into your ring of muscles, fingers spreading a little further apart each time, till he decides that’s enough, he’s ready, you’re ready.

the unbuckling of a belt.

an unzipping of trousers.

trousers bunched down muscled thighs.

the first cut may be the deepest, but you highly doubt it’s as deep as seonghwa feels feeding his cock into your arse, stretching you apart to make way for him. a part of you feels like it can’t breathe, impaled on both these men who sit so deep inside you, you fear you’ll feel the ghost of their touch for weeks to come.

but what does it matter, really, when seonghwa pulls you back against him and whispers filth against your ear? 

this is all you’re good for. cock-drunk whore. gonna let us cum inside?

and san’s coaxing you down to trail his mouth over your chest, the tongue flicking over your nipple a terrible juxtapose to his crooning words?

taking it so well, baby. so tight, and perfect, and god. ‘s that what baby needs, huh, for me to touch her little clit?

the two men find a rhythm, a synchronised routine to how they pull and push you around. their thrusts ebb and flow, no moment existing where you sit empty. they treat your body like they treat the pool, swimming through your waves of pleasure and effortlessly advancing to the finishing line, the winning stroke. then, san’s hand meets your cheek and your thoughts are dragged underwater, muffling the sounds of everyone else- the shlickt sound that echoes with each inch of cock fucked into you, the high-pitched whimpers of a fucked out wooyoung, the slapping of skin against skin- as he pulls you in for a kiss.

it’s a hungry one, all teeth and tongue and swollen lips. you pull away more breathless than before and fighting back a big dopey grin, toes curling as the swell of one of their cocks hits a nice spot inside you, body too on fire to know just exactly where the new wave of heat is coming from.

“h-how d’you do it, hm?” it’s almost a whisper, something meant only for your ears, yet you hear him loud and clear, voice stuttering off in a mess of whines and moans. “still got that pretty-girl smile, even while getting fucked silly.”

it almost makes you shy, till you remember what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. you settle for a quick, short answer. mostly because you fear you’re losing the ability to think in full-sentences, much less speak one out loud. “can multitask.”

like your own words are the key to pandora’s box, your eyes widen, and your mouth dries, and your heart reels as a new desire burrows itself somewhere between the parts of you owned by san and the parts owned by seonghwa. the desire makes room for more, for someone more, and, without much chance for second-thoughts or hesitation, you find what little stability you can manage with one hand pressing down onto san’s toned chest and reach forward with your free hand.

fingers, light as a feather, curl around wooyoung’s solid shaft. the man’s hips stutter at the unexpected contact, eyes flying open to glance down in time to watch you reach out your tongue, licking up the droplets of precum that threaten to spill from his mushroomed tip.

“please, god, please!” he’s beyond the point of sense, poor baby, struggling to keep up with yunho’s hips’ repeated slamming into his tight ass. so, you can’t really blame him or shame him for the way he hastily rips his hand through your hair, tugging your mouth as far down his cock as the angle allows.

a few hairs rip from your skull in his grip. you reward him with a pleasant hum, moans muffled with the mouth-full he’s providing you. 

“shit- look at that,” seonghwa pipes up from behind you, the motion of his hips never faulting or failing as he continues to take part in the filthiest three-way tango known to man, hands bouncing you down to meet each raise of san’s hips, plundering the other man’s cock deep, deep, deep, till he’s kissing your cervix and you’re seeing stars before your eyes. “should cup youngie’s- fucking christ- his balls, san, cup ‘em.”

you’re vaguely aware of his compliance, hand lifting off whatever part of you it was touching- your nipple, your hip, your jaw, it’s hard to tell when you feel like san’s everywhere, all over you, part of you- to graze the set of well-groomed spheres that threaten to slap your chin each time wooyoung thrusts forward.

barely two seconds, hardly any pressure against them, and the youngest of the four is nearly in tears, wailing and begging over broken whines that it’s too much, can’t take it, don’t stop.

there’s a ringing in your ear. because everything is becoming too much: wooyoung in your mouth, san rutting up into you and seonghwa’s hands clawing and pulling your body back into each of his overpowered thrusts. the boy in front of you is the first to fall apart, twitching in your mouth and, without a warning, choking you on the cum he shoots down your throat. a hand pulls you back, just enough to paint your face in the final drops released from wooyoung.

one of the other men is next, a string of curses and grunts filling the air. there’s a new stickiness between your legs, gooey white staining your skin. it’s all building up, and up, and up, until you topple over and are sent reeling into wave after wave of blinding pressure, toes cramping up and muscles spasming as you shoot off into another astral field, creaming around san and chocking seonghwa’s cock.

you don’t register the release of your hips nor the crash-down of your body. one moment, you’re pressed back against seonghwa, mouth dropped open in a silent scream for merciless pleasure, and the next you’re cradled in san’s warm embrace, a crooning tone to the way he hushes and calms you, unheard i got yous, and did so good for us, babys, and just let me hold yous falling on deaf ears.

for a moment in your own history, time ceases to exist.

there’s no ticking of the large clock on the wall, reminding you of how long ago your shift had ended. there’s no thoughts of your plant friend drying out in the staleness of your room, desperately awaiting you to revive it with some h2o. there’s no consequences awaiting your actions, no shame to be feared and leaving you unable to look any of the four swimmers in the eye ever again.

instead of being crashed against choi san’s body, a mixture of his, yours, and several other people’s bodily fluids serving as the adhesive that keeps you stuck together in your mess, you’re floating in space, not quite alive but not quite dead, just there. 

nerves tingling, body aching, mind switched off.

four, or five, or ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by the time you regain focus on your surroundings.

your name, whispered. it’s his voice that pulls you back, sweet and soft and oh so like the san you’re used to, the one that sends teasing winks your way when your eyes happen to meet his in class, and the one who has the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen, a colour-scheme for his every highlight and the cutest of doodles to go along with the topic on the paper.

the one who’s hand is currently brushing through your hair, fingers careful as they catch on the tangles near the split ends.

“hmm,” you swear you want to say his name, say more than that, but there’s an ache in your jaw that hinders you from even attempting, your voice-box likely having taken a beaten in the throws of your pleasured moans.

“you okay there?” he giggles over the end of the sentence, and you feel your slowing heartbeat stutter at the sound.

he feels you nod into the crook of his neck and lets his free hand find perch against your hip, moments before giving it a light squeeze. 

he’s warm, and pleasant, and soft.

and moving you both into an up-right position, hands splaying flat against your back and keeping you secure against him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist. you drift off again, between time and space, and come to at the first drop of water that lands on your back.

one drop, two drops, and then a downpour of heat crashing onto both of you.

you can tell from the colour of the pinkish tiles along the communal shower floor that you’re in the women’s changing room, and mentally note to thank him, even if he’s not aware, for bringing you somewhere you won’t have to shamefully stumble out of in the nude, your change of clothes safely tucked away within one of the lockers.

“i’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he speaks so gently that it overwhelms you, answering him only with an affirmative nod of your head.

neither of you speak while he lathers shampoo into your hair, nor when he’s dragging his soap covered hands over the cum that stains your skin, wiping it away and leaving nothing but suds where the liquid once was. he doesn’t speak while covering your eyes with his hands, blocking the sting of the shampoo. you don’t speak when you inch closer, head falling forward to rest against his chest.

when he does eventually speak again, both of your fingertips are wrinkled and bodies are clean, the water of the shower serving as nothing but a way to keep warm.

“you’re, uh, not” the echo of his voice in the empty lockers feels so much more intimate than how his cries sounded by the pool. “doing anything on wednesday, right?”

too lazy to move, you angle your face to stare up at him from his chest and take a moment to just stare, look at the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, at the way his eyes are back to being wide, at the way the marks you’d littered along his neck are becoming more prominent.

“how’d you know?” your question confirms his own, and a tenseness you’d not noticed melts off of his shoulders.

“wednesday is race day. you never work race days.”

it’s such an odd detail to have noticed, and it’s making you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with san. do acquaintances remember each other’s schedules? do acquaintances bring each other soothing teas when they notice the other developing flu symptoms? do acquaintances waste time pulling faces at each other in lectures they should probably be paying attention to.

“i’m not taking part in the race this time, by choice. my grades are good enough, don’t need to worry about winning some championship to keep my education.” san is speaking unpromptly at this point, rambling in a way you’ve only seen him do when he’s nervous, or excited, or both. “it’s okay if you don’t want to, or you have better things to do or places to be! but, i was just thinking, maybe you’d wanna spend some time with me? there’s this medieval market down on main-street, it’s meant to be really cool, and i just think it would be even cooler to go with you? but, again, you don’t have to. forget it, actually, i’m being stupid and assuming you’re not doing something with your friends or your-”

the kiss you interrupt him with is far more innocent than the one you shared earlier, no hands rushing to touch and tongues desperate to taste, just two sets of lips moving as one.

you pull back and he chases after you, lips landing another peck before you’re grasping his cheek in your hold and forcing him back.

“i think you could have asked me to come help clean your apartment for you and i’d still say yes, just to spend my day with you,” you say, and he smiles as if on instinct, unable to stop it even if he tried.

“really?”

“really.”

“good, cause i already bought us two tickets and i really didn’t wanna have to go alone.” there’s drops of water dancing on his eyelashes, and laziness in his every movement, and you’re both still very much naked, but none of that seems to matter when he gives you another peck, like he’s awakened an addiction and your lips are now his favourite vice. “but, now that you mention it, my apartment could do with some cleaning. and i bet you’d look amazing in a maid outfit.”

a slap echoes in the showers.

“hey! don’t worry, i’ll be wearing a matching one!”

[harveyb-wabbit92]

Grocery girl: Ken Sato x reader pt. 1

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

You were a delivery girl who was a frequently dispatched to famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon....

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

"He's been ordering a lot of Coconut water lately..." R/n mumbled as she loaded up her delivery van with the items on the shopping list Ken Sato's assistant sent her for his bi-weekly delivery, usually he just orders beer, protein shakes and a melange western food some of which were not a common find around Japanese super markets.

R/n had to go special import stores for some of the stuff Mr. Sato orders; which takes R/n though a wild runaround of the entire city, A route that none her other coworkers had the time or patience for; even the self-proclaimed "Sato-fan queen" Who stole R/n's route gave up within 20 minutes when she couldn't find the tiny shop that sold his special brand of coffee.

Her saga ended when she tried to cut corners and grabbed random items and delivered those instead...Yeah, that went over like a lead balloon. Her majesty got a harsh chewing out by the boss after Mr. Sato's assistant complained about the delivery and threatened a restraining order after the younger devilry girl displayed an obsessive and aggressive attitude.

(I.E. taking selfies of herself in front of the house, flirting into the intercom and trying to force herself into Mr Sato's house when she realized he wasn't home.)

Needless to say, R/n was assigned Mr. Sato's personal delivery girl, cos she was the only one that didn't have crush on him. Much to the ire of her female and few male coworkers. R/n remembered the first time Mr. Sato was there to receive his groceries in person. He seemed thrown off by her complete impassiveness towards him....

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

{Flashback, To Ken taking the groceries from R/n, he kept staring at the delivery girl expecting her to crack a smile or squeal excitedly or something, but no, she kept a neutral expression on her face and stayed professional during the entire transaction.]

"Uh....Aren't you going to ask for my autograph?"

"Nope."

"But...I'm Ken Sato."

"Yeah, I know who you are and I don't care. sign here."

R/n holds out her tablet as Ken stares at her baffled; he signs the digital receipt, R/n printed out the receipt sticker and slapped it on the the box the baseball player was holding, The (Y/Height) woman then tipped her hat to him before getting into her van and driving off leaving Ken standing in his driveway completely dumbfounded. 

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

After that Mr. Sato and R/n kept their interactions short and sweet, which seemed to work just fine for them. But things change and R/n was going to experience a very big change in her life.

It all started when the Sato-stalker queen Or Meiko AKA: "Meimei" as calls herself on her blog invited R/n to Mr. Sato's premier game, R/n tried to reject the offer as gently as possible; sports were never really her thing, but the bottle blonde girl had guilt tripped her into going. Apparently she doesn't have many friends (wonder why?), so there was R/n sitting up in the nosebleed section while feeling awkward in the sparkly baseball jersey Meimei had insisted she wear for the occasion.

The whole time the blonde was squealing and blabbing about Mr. Sato and how handsome he was and how unfair it was that R/n got to see him, thought the older woman was quick to dash whatever hopes Meimei had of hearing about Mr. Sato's personal life by informing her that he's barely home when she delivers to him and few times he is there it's just to receive the groceries.

"What goes on in Mr. Sato's private life is not our business..." R/n affirmed Meimei just pouted and called R/n mean before turning her attention to the pitch, she gasped loudly and started shaking R/n excitedly. "Ohmygash,ohmygash!! It's him! she squealed as Mr. Sato stepped on to the field towards his position at bat.

R/n couldn't help but wince when she watched Ken miss the first two balls, she saw the catcher from the other team say something that peeved off Mr. Sato; it looked like they were going to throw down until the umpire calmed it down and Mr. Sato change his position at the third pitch.

He pulled off an impressive power hit that got the crowd screaming and cheering. However, as Meimei was squealing and shaking R/n for what seemed to be for the umpteenth time she failed to notice her older coworker's attention was completely fixated on something else.

She felt R/n suddenly grab her hand. Meimei looked at R/n bemused but then noticed her complexion had gone ashen as the older delivery girl pointed up at the sky; the younger one followed her gaze and lost all of her peppiness in seconds as an explosion from a downed aircraft went off over the stadium causing the entire place to shake!

The stadium erupted into chaos as R/n instinctively covered her younger coworker from any fallen debris as the Kaiju alert system went off ordering everyone to evacuate! R/n and Meimei wasted no time getting out of the stadium just in time to see Ultraman arrive and punch the Kaiju away from the stadium. R/n stood back to watch them fight for a few moments before a hysterical Meimei dragged her away...

{Cut to a few hours later}

R/n was finishing up a few late night deliveries, some of her coworker didn't want to come in due to the monster attack so R/n was forced to take over their shifts. She had just finished delivering cat-food to a nice old lady, when she got a call from Mr. Sato he wanted donuts and coffee.

R/n sighed and went to work she pulled up to Ken's home on the old delivery scooter the boss had rusting in the back seeing as it was a small delivery, it was raining heavily by the time she pulled up to the house. R/n walked up and knocked the door Mr. Sato opened the door and looked startled to see her.

"Uh, What are you doing here so late?" He asked looking around his driveway, R/n cocked a brow and held up his order like it should be obvious. "Yeah, I know...But it's usually the old guy that delivers this late." R/n explained he took the night off she was filing in, Ken reluctantly took the donuts when he notices how wet her uniform was and looked outside again and noticed the rusty scooter just chilling in his driveway and frowned.

"You didn't drive all the way up here on that thing did you?" R/n just shrugged Mr. Sato looked like he was going invite her in or something, but they were interrupted by a weird cry coming from somewhere in the house. "What was that?" R/n inquired bouncing on her toes trying to look over his shoulder, the baseball player got this 'oh crap' look on his face as he quickly blocked her view.

"Uh, Nothing, j-just my TV! Here's your tip!" R/n's phone pinged the delivery girl's usual calm demeanor was replaced with one of panic as she tried to explain that Japan doesn't practice tipping! Only for her eyes widened in shock the amount he sent her. "...And e-Even if we did do tips, I think you overdid-" Mr. Sato quickly cuts her off. "No I didn't!" and slammed the door in her face.

R/n blinked a few times as she looked between her phone and the door baffled after a few seconds of trying figure out what that all about? Before shrugging then walked back her scooter and drove off....

{Ken gave the reader about three hundred dollars.)

[Next time R/n finds out just what Mr. Sato was hiding in his house the encounter was both cute and terrifying.]

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

Cross posted on my A03/Squidgeworld/Wattpad.

[ghosty-writes-23]

I'm Home Sweetheart. - Leon S Kennedy.

!TAGS!: Fluff, Leon being husband material, NSFW Content, !CONSENT IS KEY!, Body worship, !WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!, Choking, Breathplay, Size kink, Spit play, Doggystyle, Blow Job, Eating out, 69, Dom!Leon, Aftercare.

Pairing: DI!Husband!Leon + Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature.

Summary: “Tell me about your book sweetheart, I want to recreate those scenes with you.”  Where your kind and caring husband Leon comes home early from a mission and surprises you by building a private in-home library as you were starting to run out of space to keep your precious books and wants to recreate your favourite scenes from your favourite authors.

Word Count: 3.7k

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

Ada's Version.

----------

18+ Content // Minors DO NOT Interact // 18+ Content.

Using your teeth to pull open the bottle cap top of the ice cold orange juice, you took a few huge mouthfuls as you waited for the stop light to turn green, the drink was cold and refreshing causing a shiver to run though your body as you placed the bottle on the passenger's seat. Today you were coming back from annual and yearly no boyfriends or husbands girls vacation weekend you and your best friend always planned since you were in high school.

The trip started out innocently just spending the day at the spa getting your nails done and relaxing, to only end up going clubbing last night and dancing on the table to when I grow up by the pussycat dolls in 6 inch stiletto heels. As much as you loved the girls' vacation and letting loose for a couple days, you couldn’t wait to get home and curl up next to your husband, with a spicy enemies to lovers book with your dog Ace cuddled into your side.

Ace is an old German shepherd that is also an ex police dog whose owner was killed in the line of duty, the poor dog was so confused on why his owner and handler didn’t come back, he would wait for his older owner to return, as time went on Ace grew more and more depressed he refused to work with anybody else or be social with other dogs.

It go so bad that the police department thought it would be better to put Ace up for adoption and hope he would find a loving forever home but Ace just stayed in his kennel hiding away, he refused to eat and would growl at anybody who came near him.

That was until he met your husband of 8 years Leon who was looking for a dog that could protect you while he was away on missions, but also he could play around with at the park or at home when he had time off, the moment the two of them meet they were inseparable and Leon rushed to adopt him that day and after waiting for a week you both welcomed Ace into your little family and you both became the dogs whole world.

Always coming for cuddles and acting like a huge baby even letting you put Leon’s sunglasses on him and take pictures, it filled your heart with so much joy when Ace started putting on weight and started looking healthier.

Then you have your sweet little Oreo who was just your average black cat with white little paws and little face markings with one marking on her chest that looks like a heart, she was a stray when you first found her huddled in a small box on a stormy night outside your mom’s bakery, she was so small and fragile you didn’t think she would make it through the night, she was really skinny and her fur was matted to her skin nearly, she must of been abandoned at a very young age which broke your heart. 

She had no collar and no microchip so it was pointless trying to find her old owners. So that night you wrapped her up in your warm woolly scarf and took her home, where both you and Leon very gently brushed her fur, clipped her nails and gave her some food and water after you asked Leon to get some kitten food before you got home. She warmed up to you both but she mostly stuck to your side always wanting cuddles and pets.

You ended up adopting her a few days later after she passed all the vet checks and got her vaccinations, she was a little cautious of Leon since he smelt like Ace, but Ace was a good boy and let Oreo get used to him, even if it meant he got bit and clawed at a few times but slowly they became friends, then even shared Ace’s bed on cold nights and play with their toys with each other.

When the stoplight finally turned green you started driving down the main highway listening to the music that softly played in your car, distracting you from the slightly throbbing pain in your head from your dull hangover. The drive home was quick and you pulled into your garage within 10 minutes, the throbbing in your head subsided and you didn't feel as bad but you where really hungry.

Getting out you grabbed your bag and started heading inside to where you could hear Ace happily barking at the front door, you could even hear his tippy tappy paws, it caused you to smile thinking somebody was excited that you were home. 

“Hey Baby.” You say happily after opening the front door, Ace was running around your legs, his tail wagging so fast it was almost like a dark blur as he was barking, it was so sweet, you heard Oreo meow from the small table by the door as if she was saying welcome home, putting your bag down you kneeled down and started petting ace and gave Oreo’s head a soft kiss.

“Yes yes I missed you guys too.” you say as Oreo rubbed her face on your cheek and Ace was nuzzling into your hand. “Where you talking to me sweetheart.” Your husband Leon says with a soft chuckle, causing you to look at him wide eyed before running over and hugging Leon tightly. “Your back early.” you say happily wrapping your arms around his neck, his large arms wrapped around your waist pulling your body closer to him. 

“Surprise.” he says as you nuzzle into his chest, you were so glad your husband was home in one piece. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you whined softly hitting his shoulder causing him to laugh before he grabbed your smaller hand in his larger one. “Because I have a surprise for you.” he hints as he starts walking down the hallway of your house, you were a little confused but you followed your husband anyway.

Soon you found yourself outside your storage room, it was a spare bedroom you and Leon used for storage since it was pretty spacious and you didn't really use it, pulling out a key from his pocket Leon slid the key into lock and softly popped open the door. “Go inside.” Leon says, by his tone you could tell he was excited for you to see his surprise, pushing the door open you gasped softly, your one messy and chaotic storage room was turned into an in-home library. 

There was black floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with your books and some new ones you recognized, there was also a small wooden ladder that travel down the bookshelves, a fluffy rug on the ground, your window seat was decorated with comfy pillows and a blanket, there was a small coffee table in the middle of the room with a container with bookmarks, colorful page tabs, highlighters fine tip pens, and a blackberry and guava scented candle accompanied by a box of matches, in the far right conner was a little coffee and tea station where you could make a hot drink and cozy up with one of your books, The room felt warm and cozy, you could feel your eyes tearing up at the sight.

“Leon…” you say quietly, your voice cracking slightly, you looked up at your husband teary eyed to which he softly cupped your cheek and kissed you softly. “Happy valentines day, I wanted you to have a place for all your books since they were kind of taking over the house.” he says with a chuckle as he rested his forehead on yours as his rough thumb stroked the soft skin of your cheek, it would explain the black paint smudge on his face.

“I love you so much.” you say wrapping your arms around his neck, sometimes you felt like you didn’t deserve Leon. “Not as much as I love you sweetheart.” he says as he gives your hips a slight squeeze.

Later That Night 

You where cozied up in your little library reading one of the new books Leon had purchased you, it was a spicy romance novel that has a few dark twists, just as you were about to turn to the next page your library door opened and saw Leon was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest he must of come back from his night run with Ace.

When your gaze met his there was a soft and gentle look in his baby blue eyes as he took in the sight of you reading your book, the soft light of the lamp casting a warm glow on your skin, to him you where Leon’s little slice of heaven from the rest of the chaos in his world.

“What's this book about?” Leon asked with curiosity as he walked into your library and rested his chin on your shoulder, his stubble tickling the side of your face. “A spicy forbidden romance between a DEA agent and a criminal mastermind.” you tell him with a small giddy look on your face, it was no secret that you had an ‘interest’ in forbidden romances but Leon was no stranger to that.

“Do you like a man in uniform?” he mumbled deeply in your ear as he started to press soft kisses to your neck, a soft sigh left your lips as you bit your bottom lip. 

“You know I do.” you say as your eyes flutter closed enjoying the loving affection from your husband, your book now just a passing thought. “How about you put your book down and get that pretty little ass upstairs.” Leon suggests against your ear, his voice a few octaves deeper causing you to squeeze your thighs slightly, you felt one of his hands make its way from your hip up your stomach and chest before he wrapped his fingers around your neck and gave it a light squeeze causing a soft whine to leave your lips.

“Okay.” you say looking up at him through your lashes, releasing your neck he placed an innocent kiss on your forehead before you started making your way to your shared bedroom upstairs.

Once you made it to your shared bedroom you could hear Leon doing something downstairs, but you just went and waited on your bed for him with your hands in your lap, after a couple moments you could hear his heavy footsteps coming up the steps “he must be wearing his boots.” you thought and when he came into view all the moisture in your mouth evaporated, thighs squeezed together and your pussy clenched. 

There Leon stood in his work clothing which consisted of a navy blue short sleeve top that was tight around his biceps, dark grey cargo jeans and black combat boots, but what really caught your eyes was the grey tactical vest that was strapped around his front and back. You felt yourself gulping slightly as you looked at your husband up and down, “I’m in danger.” you thought but you couldn’t help but be excited.

“Like what you see doll?” Leon asked, there was a slight tease in his tone as he walked over to you and gently grabbed your chin with his gloved hand, you nodded your head not trusting your voice as you nuzzled your face into his hand, hearing a soft chuckle you felt Leon gently tug your face up before he gently kissed you, his lips were warm and soft his kiss gentle and sweet.

Feeling his hand move away from your chin you felt him start to strip you of your oversized shirt that was clearly his, only breaking the kiss for a second to tug his your shirt off then tossing it on the ground before reconnecting your lips again, you feel back onto your plush bed one of his knees in between your legs as he hovered over you.

Your fingers found their way into his dark hair and gently tugged on his roots, earning you a soft groan from your husband as he tugged your leggings off your legs leaving you in your bra and panties. When Leon finally broke the kiss you looked up at each other breathing heavily, nothing but love and affection swimming in both your eyes for each other.

One of his gloved hands rests on your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip sticking your tongue out slightly you ran it up the front of his glove before taking his gloved thumb into your mouth and gently sucking. 

“And you say I'm a tease princess.” Leon groaned, cheekily you gently bit his thumb and your teeth leaving a little imprint in his glove, before you leaned up and kissed him then used your strength to push Leon over onto the other side of the bed then straddle his waist, you felt his eyes on you but you where on a mission you wanted to pay Leon back for the library and the thoughtfulness then went into the idea.

You unclipped his tactical vest and placed on the ground be your bed before you trailed gentle kisses down his clothed chest and stomach as your hands worked on unbutton his pants and tugging them down his legs leaving him in his underwear. 

When you finally reached the top of his underwear that had a wet patch, you gently tugged them down revealing his hard cock that was leaking precum everywhere, you looked up at Leon as if to ask permission Leon nodded his head and ran his fingers through your hair and held it in a makeshift ponytail so your hair didn’t get in your eyes.

Smiling soft you let your tongue run up the side before you wrapped your lips around the tip and slowly began to bob your head you could feel every vein and ridge, he was heavy on your tongue but there was a small comfort, you made yourself at home placing your hands on his muscular thighs as you set a smooth pace.

Slowly bobbing your head occasionally he would hit the back of your throat, causing tears to prick your eyes but you blinked them away quickly.

Above you could hear Leon groaning and giving you soft praises of “such a good girl” and “feels so good darling.” the praise sent heat to your cheeks and kept you going, you wanted to make him feel good, you wanted to be his good girl.

You could feel your jaw was being to hurt slightly when your suddenly pulled off, breathing heavily saliva coating your slightly swollen lips a soft whine leaving your throat as you looked at your husband with a pout, he was breathing heavily his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Want to make you feel good too.” Leon says before you can think about what he said he pulls your lower half over his face, his stubble tickling the inside of your thighs, you could feel his warm breath on the wet patch of your panties causing you to clench around nothing and a soft whine to leave your lips.

When you felt him move your panties to the side and his tongue ran up your folds, a soft moan left your lips as you slightly arched your back. You could feel the heat running through your body as he feasted on you, as if he was in his own little world with his tongue deep inside you. 

Feeling his wrap his arms around your hips to keep you in place, you went back to giving him the same pleasure, your pillowy lips wrapping around his cock again and bobbing your head at a steady pace with your cheeks slightly sucked in.

You could feel him twitching in your mouth, you pulled away slightly and swirled your tongue around his tip causing his hips to jolt slightly you knew he was close, but so where you as your thighs shook slightly around his head. 

“Fuck doll cumming.” Leon groaned before you pushed him all the way down your throat, a few tears rolling down your cheeks at the sudden intrusion but you ignored the pain as your throat muscles tightened around him.

Leon came down your throat with a deep groan and even slightly bucked his hips, you soon followed and came with a loud moan, pulling away slightly you breathed heavily and wiped your mouth. Leon was breathing heavily but there was a huge grin on his face as he moved so now he was hovering over you. 

“Another round princess?” he asked as he reached into the bedside table and pulled out a silver square, you could barely pull a thought together but you nodded your head and let your husband position you how he wanted, lucky this time you were laid on your stomach with a pillow under your hips, your head resting against your pillow and soft hum leaving your lips as you where in a comfortable position.

You heard the sound of the condom packet being torn open and the lid of a lube bottle being cracked opened, it wasn’t that you weren't used to Leon’s size but sometimes it made it more comfortable, you heard the sound of the rest of his clothes hit the ground beside the bed as he stripped off, he even carefully took your soaked panties off and tossed them onto the pile of his clothes.

“Cold.” you whined softly as a shiver went down your spine, you felt Leon placed a small blob over your slit and gently rub it in. “I know sweetheart, you'll warm up soon princess I promise.” Leon says before you felt him at your entrance, you closed your eyes and waited for the familiar stretch, a soft moan left your lips as he slowly pushed in being careful and soon bottomed out a soft groan leaving both of your lips as you felt each other.

“Fuck.” you cursed as you placed your face into your pillow, no matter how many times you take him, he always overwhelms you with how good he makes you feel. 

“Are you ok?” Leon asked when you felt him gently kiss your shoulder, when he was this gentle with you it made your heart skip a beat, you nodded your head and gave him a smile as you leaned up and softly kissed her cheek.

“I’m ok but I do have one request?” you say when you notice he is still wearing the gloves on his hands, you saw him glance between you and his hands a small smirk on his face as he already knew what you were asking him for, moving his arm his bicep wrapped snug around your neck giving a soft squeeze Leon began to thrust slowly, teasingly but you here in heaven with his bicep around your neck.

“Such a dirty little girl, do you like it when I choke you? Deprive you of oxygen until you nearly pass out.” Leon asked his tone was mean and nasty as the pace of his thrusts picked up, your brain was going fuzzy you couldn’t focus on anything else but him.

You loved it when Leon was your kind and sweet husband but deep deep down a part of you liked it when he was mean and dominant, it made you feel so small being under him, his body towering over yours, his muscles and strength double if not triple then yours and it was such a turn on.

“Yes I do.” you choked out as you looked up at your husband, there was a smirk on his face as he thrusted into your soaked pussy, your gummy walls sucking him in and never wanting him to leave.

“Open.” he demanded and you opened your mouth without hesitation then you felt Leon spit into your mouth making you feel even dirtier, but you loved it and grinned up at him almost as if you were a crazed woman, you swallowed before you opened your mouth again and stick out your tongue. 

“Fuck I love you so much.” Leon groaned his voice deeper as he tightened his bicep around your neck, causing small spots to come into your version. You knew your safe word but you didn’t want to use it, this feeling felt like pure ecstasy and you were floating. “You close darling?” you heard Leon ask and you nodded your head feeling the familiar tightening in your stomach.

“Yes.” you choked out in between moans, your thighs were trembling and your head was feeling foggy. “Cumming.” you cry out as you let out a high pitch moan and came around Leon, you felt him soon follow. After a couple minutes you slowly felt him pull out then discard the used condom in the rubbish.

an hour later 

You were freshly showered and dressed in one of Leon’s shirts and a pair of panties, you both were relaxing in bed cuddled into Leon with Ace sleeping in his dog bed next to the window and Oreo resting and purring in between you and Leon. 

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” you heard Leon asked as he was tracing his thumb on your hip bone under his shirt you were wearing. “No, you were perfect as always.” you say you press a kiss to the top of his bare chest that had a few old scars, this caused him to smile and pull you closer to him being careful of Oreo as he doesn’t want to be attacked by her again.

“Happy Valentine's Day doll.” Leon says as he kisses your head and makes sure both you and Oreo are comfortable on the bed, “Happy Valentine's Day honey.” you say as you leaned up and softly kissed him, grateful to have a husband as kind, caring and gentle as Leon….

----------

©️2024 - GhostyWrites23 All Rights Reserved. ❌Please don't repost, translate or copy any of my work without permission.❌

----------

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Do a human a “Solid”

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

On Xenthari it was both culturally acceptable and almost mandatory to participate in duels. They could be fought for honor, profit, social status, or for the sheer thrill of it should one be of that disposition. Participants could even choose champions to fight for them instead making the position of professional duelist a very lucrative occupation.

Lulu did not particularly enjoy the idea of dueling. She never was good with a sword and would more often end up losing, and she lacked enough funds to make hiring someone in her stead near impossible. At school she had few friends and the ones she did have would never volunteer to be her champions when she was eventually challenged to duels.

It wasn’t because she was actively searching for them. She rather liked her quiet life and avoided such confrontations that would lead to a duel being issued. Yet she was a social outcast and picking on her had been deemed a past time for some of the more aggressive students at her school. They would easily disarm her and then take great relish in attacking her.

Duels for those underage were different from official duels. One could not deal a lethal blow in underage duels. Rules stated that while surrender was a great dishonor, a duelist could surrender and forfeit the duel after being dealt one blow. Because Lulu hated fighting she would let her opponents get a blow in and then surrender. With that though came dishonor to her name and her standing as an outcast only further grew.

Lulu had resigned herself to this fate until one day a transfer student came to school.

Her name was Trisha Yulie, but she preferred to be called “Triss”. Her family had sent her to Xenthari after several “incidents” happened at her school back on her homeworld. They thought that being in such a drastically different environment and society would make her appreciate the things she used to have. Little did her parents know that the combative nature of Xenthari would only increase these tendencies; one of which introduced Triss to her new friend, Lulu.

The two had never interacted with each other until one day in the cafeteria Lulu saw Triss near one of the food dispensers. She was rummaging through her pockets and looking upset; Lulu figured the human did not have enough currency to purchase an item.

“Here.” Lulu said as she walked next to Triss.

She leaned forward and put a token into the machine and then smacked the side of it three times in certain places. The machine sputtered and beeped for a moment before a food package emerged from the dispenser. Lulu took it and handed it to Triss.

Looking down at the food Triss smiled as she gratefully took it. “Thanks,” Triss said as she followed Lulu back to a table, “was getting so hungry I started wondering if there were any horses around here.”

Lulu looked at Triss and something must have shown on her face as Triss realized she would have no idea what a horse was. She was just about to explain when a group of students came up behind Llulu and shoved her.

“Get up.” The leader of them laughed. “It’s time for your correction.”

Lulu didn’t need to see who had shoved her as she recognized the voice even before she stood up and turned around.

Ulia, the most popular student and heir to a wealthy transit corporation run by her family, gave a sadistic grin as her gang of lackeys laughed. She loved to pick on Lulu and normally she would have just allowed the duel to happen, but Triss had other ideas.

“Oi, fuck face!” Triss spoke up as Ulia shifted he gaze to Triss. “Me and my new friend here were having a conversation and you weren’t invited, so piss off!”

“How cute.” Ulia chuckled. “You let your dog speak for you now, eh Lulu?”

“Did she just fucking call me a dog?” Triss asked a still silent Lulu. “Have you looked in a mirror? Your face is so ugly it gets flagged for indecent exposure online.”

For the first time Lulu could ever remember she was Ulia’s face twitch in anger.

“I see that I need to teach our new exchange student here some manners.”

Triss sighed loudly. “I was going to give you a chance to apologize, but now I’m just going to kick your ass.”

The surrounding students pulled tables away to form a circle. Ulia drew her sword and activated its power field. The blade lit to life as it was enveloped by a green glow casting shadows across the room.

Ulia grinned as she drew the blade close to her face “Draw your blade so we can end this farce.”

To her surprise Triss shook her head and shrugged off her school jacket revealing a well-toned body of raw muscle. “Don’t need a fancy stick to beat you when I got these.” She shook out her hands and brought them up as clenched fists.

“Your funeral.” Ulia laughed as she took up a ready stance. One of her lackeys stepped between Triss and Ulia and acted as ref. “The duel will begin when I step back out of the ring. First one to verbally surrender or be rendered incapable of continuing the duel will be designated the loser and thus ending the duel. No lethal blows are allowed.”

With that the lackey stepped backwards beginning the duel.

Ulia lunged forward ready to run Triss through with the tip of her sword. Triss stood motionless for the last second until the blade was inches from her.

Pivoting to the side at the last moment Triss avoided the blade as Ulia’s forward momentum kept her going. She was about to spin her blade around when Triss drove a hard right punch directly into her jaw.

The blow was heavy enough to stagger Ulia as she tried to recover but Triss gave her no time. She was within Ulia’s guard in a flash and delivered another blow to the opposite side of Ulia’s jaw.

“Waaagh?” Ulia stammered as she stumbled back into the crowd of onlookers. Her eyes went wide as she gurgled more noises with increasing frustration but no intelligible words came out.

“By now you’ve probably realized your jaw has been completely dislocated from your skull.” Triss spoke as she circled Ulia. “I didn’t want you giving up too early; gotta lot of steam I need to blow off.”

Ulia shoved the people around her away and tried to shout something only for it to be slurred beyond recognition. She brought the sword down hard in a long sweep towards Triss but she backed away to avoid it.

Unleashing a flurry of blows each one capable of cutting through flesh, but Triss continued dodging them left and right like a prize boxer. She opened up another devastating blow to Ulia’s midriff causing her to vomit a large amount of fluid.

The crowd watched with horrified silence. Never had they seen a duel with fists before. It was something utterly foreign to them and had been taught to be barbaric. Yet here was a human who with only her fists was decimating a sword wielder.

Triss circled Ulia who had collapsed to the ground. “You want to give up princess?” she mocked. “Just say the word and…oh wait! You can’t much say anything right now can you?”

Ulia swept her blade for Triss’s ankles. With a swift motion Triss lifted her right foot and brought it down as hard as she could on Ulia’s hand holding the sword, crushing the wrist with a loud wet crunch. The blade fell from Ulia’s hand as she cradled her now broken wrist with her remaining hand.

Triss picked up the blade and inspected it. “What you think Lulu?” Triss called over to Lulu who was standing in the gathered crowd. “She started messing with you; want me to rough her up some more?”

Every eye in the crowd suddenly turned to look at Lulu. Lulu’s mouth opened to speak but nothing came out as Triss continued.

“I wonder, how much credibility do you think you’d lose if you were cut by your own blade?”

She held the blade out against Ulia’s cheek as her eyes went wide. “Bet you’re little groupies here might bail on you.” Triss leaned down and whispered to Ulia. “Or maybe you’re more worried about what your family would say?”

Tears of pure teal formed in the corners of her eyes as Ulia tried to speak only for Triss to shush her by putting a finger over her mouth.

“If you don’t want that to happen, I think you should leave me and my friend alone from now on; else the next time we have this little dispute you won’t end so peacefully.”

With that Ulia nodded and collapsed to the ground.

“Looks like she can’t continue,” Triss announced proudly, dropping the sword in, “I think that means I’m the winner.”

The crowd parted as Triss walked back to Lulu and put an arm over her shoulder. “I think we were having lunch before all that happened, want to get back to it?”

“Ssssure.” Lulu stammered as she let Triss lead her back to their table. As the pair sat down she finally worked up the courage to say “Thank you.”

“For what?” Triss remarked as she tried to pull open the food package Lulu gave her earlier.

“For standing up for me.” Lulu replied. She leaned over and pressed a button on the package and it flash cooked the meal and opened itself.

Triss nodded her thanks and began digging in. “You did me a solid so I do you one; tit for tat.”

“So because I got you lunch you fought a duel for me? Lulu asked, astounded when Lulu nodded.

“A solid is a solid, doesn’t matter if it is equal or not; that’s what friends do for each other.”

[dirtyvulture]

Envy and Venom - Part 2

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4911

AN: Didn't think I'd write this, but the opportunity was too good to let pass. :)

Click here for Part 1!

DAY 2

“I can’t believe you,” Tony says, watching as you anxiously like a caged animal. “I mean, I can, because Romanoff is smoking hot, but really? On your first day?”

“I didn’t know who she was!” you snap, your stomach churning in knots. You hadn’t been able to eat breakfast, even ignoring the hot black coffee your secretary Wanda had waiting for you like usual when you arrived to the office.

“Literally the daughter of the guy of our biggest rival,” Tony says, clearly only trying to make you feel worse than you already feel.

“I know who he is!” you bark, well familiar with Alexei Shostakov, the enormous, bearded and beer-bellied Russian who had once been on the board of directors at Envy Industries. Alexei was long gone from your dad’s company by the time you entered the scene, and at that point had formed Black Widow Corporation into a juggernaut. Word on the street was that Alexei used “unconventional methods” to stay ahead of competitors and now you wondered if you had fallen right into one of those traps. 

“Why was Romanoff even at the party in the first place?” you ask.

“Why do you think?” Tony scoffs. “Daddy probably sent her to mess with you and no offense…but it worked.”

“We don’t know that,” you defend, although your gut is telling you that Tony is right. 

“So, what did you tell her?” Tony asks, kicking his chair back to wobble on its hind legs.

“Nothing!” You sigh, your brain scrambling to remember your interaction with Natasha before you took her up to your suite. “Uh, I mean…I mentioned the contract we have with Tesla. But a bunch of other people probably overhead too, and that’s not exactly a secret anymore.”

“Mhmm, sure. Anything else?” Tony prompts.

“No. No, nothing else,” you say with an edge of uncertainty. “There wasn’t really much time for talking, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know you, you horndog.” He waves at you.

For once, you feel immensely guilty about not being able to control your behavior. This wouldn’t be the first time you had to face the consequences of the people you chose to take to bed with you, but none had been this jarring or dangerous. You feel used, even though you truly hadn’t revealed any company secrets to Natasha. Just the thought that she knew who you were, and wasn’t honest with you about herself, made your whole interaction with her feel slimy and fake. While you also knew it was ridiculous to think that you were in love with someone you just met, even you won’t deny there had been some kind of spark between you two, but perhaps it had all been manufactured. 

You genuinely want to see Natasha again, hopefully in more honest circumstances, and not just purely for the physical pleasure of it. You knew she was one of the few women on Earth who truly understood your line of work. She didn’t need to pretend (or even study ahead) like some of the partners you had in the past. She was beautiful and smart and managed to turn you into a stuttering, whipped mess in less than ten minutes. No one else had ever been able to do that, and as humbling as it was, it was also hot as hell.

“What am I supposed to do now?” you ask, pulling at the suffocating collar of your shirt. 

“First of all, don’t see her ever again,” Tony responds, and it sounds like he’s telling you you’re not allowed to breathe anymore.

“Fuck,” you grumble, because you know he’s right, but it won’t be that easy to just forget about Natasha. 

“Seriously, Y/N,” Tony goes on. “You have a whole company to run now. Let the media say what they want, but promise me that you won’t be caught with that woman ever again.”

“Caught, you say?” you tease, knowing that he would always offer you a way out.

“I know you,” he repeats. “Besides, I heard she has a sister.”

You laugh, the tense mood lightening considerably. “Yeah, sure, I’ll put in a good word for you when I see her again.”

“You’re the best.” Tony stands up to give you a high-five.

***********************************************************************

Natasha hums to herself as she opens her laptop. She plugs in her headphones and boots up the application that is connected to the microphone she slipped into your jacket pocket. Over 12 hours of audio have already been recorded. Just out of curiosity, she scrolls to the first hour.

“Look how wet you are. You’ve been waiting for this all night, sweetheart?”

“Shut up and let me fuck you.”

Natasha feels her core light up with desire as she remembers the previous night with you. It had been a long time since she had been fucked so well and you certainly lived up to the hype. When she closes her eyes, she can still remember how your body had felt against hers, the way your muscles flexed in warning when you were about to finish but were waiting for her permission, the intoxicating taste that coated her tongue and had her (quite literally) demanding more and more from you.

“Hey, sestra.” Yelena walks in without knocking, and Natasha’s eyes snap open, tearing off her headphones and closing the audio application.

“What?” she growls, annoyed by the interruption.

Yelena smirks at her. “How was the party last night?”

“Good.”

Yelena doesn’t look convinced. “Did you see that TMZ article?”

“Anyone who relies on that hack as a legitimate source of information is just setting themselves up for disappointment.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words,” Yelena states, walking up to Natasha and showing her her phone. 

New CEO of Envy Industries Y/N spotted getting cozy with Black Widow Corp. heiress Natasha Romanoff 

Below the headline is a grainy photo of her almost sitting on your lap, both of your heads leaned close together. 

“What’s your point?” Natasha asks, pushing Yelena’s phone away from her face.

“Did Dad approve of this?”

“What does his approval have to do with anything?” Natasha snaps. “I’m a grown woman, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want–”

“We’re not stupid, Natasha,” Yelena frowns. “And you aren’t either. You aren’t getting mixed up with just anyone, this is the CEO of Envy Industries–”

Natasha waves her hand. “Just stop, Yelena. I know what I’m doing, okay? And I’m the one who’s going to take over the company when Dad steps down, so I need to make sure that we are on top and stay that way.”

Yelena’s expression softens. “Just be careful, sestra. You don’t know what some of these people are capable of.”

“Like Y/N?” Natasha laughs. “She’s just a big rich idiot. I could steal her entire company right from under her nose and she’d just go fill her bed with Victoria’s Secret models and forget it by the next morning.”

“Please be careful, Nat,” Yelena begs. “Do not forget what happened last time–”

“That was in the past. I know better now,” Natasha dismisses, although the hair on the back of her neck rises at the memory. She had been too cocky, too arrogant, and nearly lost her life as a result. But she was certain that wouldn’t happen with you. She had you eating out of the palm of her hand even before the mind-blowing sex. You’d happily hand her the keys to Envy Industries if she promised you five minutes in bed. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Natasha gruffs, turning back to her computer. “Close the door on your way out.”

Yelena doesn’t respond and backtracks. Natasha waits until she hears the click of her door to open the files on her flash drive that contains the data stolen from your systems. None of your files are even password-protected. Maybe your company was even more of a joke than she thought.

***********************************************************************

DAY 14

Tesla backs out of contract with Envy Industries, reportedly in talks with Black Widow Corporation for GPUs

DAY 15

Envy Industries (ENVY) stock drops 15%

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) stock up 10%

DAY 18

Tesla hires Black Widow Corporation to produce hardware for upcoming Model 2

DAY 24

Black Widow Corporation announces AI supercomputer project

DAY 30

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) joins the Magnificent Seven stocks, knocking Envy Industries (ENVY) out

“You need to fix this. Now.”

“I’m trying!” you practically sob, staring at the same headline on your computer that your father is looking at. 

Your first 30 days as CEO had been an absolute whirlwind–of defeats. First, an intern at Tesla had called you to tell you the deal was off. And then to hear that they were taking up business with Black Widow Corporation was like a sucker punch to the gut. No one at your company could understand how Black Widow suddenly had the technology you’d been working on for months, but a nagging feeling in the back of your head told you that you were the only person who knew the answer.

But you couldn’t be one-hundred-percent sure. After all, you had spent one night with Natasha Romanoff, most of it in bed with her getting your brains fucked out. But she had left even before you woke up, and there was no way to confirm if she had managed to get her hands on the confidential information that your company was built upon.

Whatever had happened, Envy Industries was on a steady decline ever since you had taken over and it was not a good feeling. The stock prices were tanking and now you had lost your spot amongst the prized “Magnificent Seven”–also known as the seven highest-valued companies in the United States. It was embarrassing, shameful, and upsetting. The board of directors were having daily meetings about your leadership qualities and you were worried they would boot you from the position any day now. Your father still had some influence, despite stepping down, but with the way he was speaking to you now, you weren’t sure he was going to defend you anymore.  

“I don’t care how Black Widow Corp got the intel. They have it now and we can’t get it back. You need to raise security protocols and if anyone is caught leaking information, they will be publicly humiliated and sued to kingdom come,” your dad rages through the phone. 

“Yes, yes, I agree,” you say.

“You need to focus on recovering from this. What’s done is done. But if you let it get worse, there will be severe consequences. For the company, for its future, and for you.”

“Yes. Yes, Dad,” you gulp.

“Stop fucking around and get your shit together,” he says. “You have a reputation that precedes you and thousands of people are depending on you to see them through this. Envy will come back. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you repeat hollowly, not even convinced of your own words.

“Good girl. We’ll talk later.”

“Okay. Bye, Dad.” You hang up and put your phone face-down on your desk, staring once more at the headline. For the first time, you don’t feel sad, you feel angry. You want to lash out at something–someone. Preferably the person or persons who put you in this predicament. You didn’t deserve this. You hadn’t done anything wrong. But one thing was for certain: you weren’t going to mope around and let them continue to take advantage of you.

There’s a heavy knock on your door.

“Hey, Y/N. Ready for lunch?” It’s Tony.

“Sure. Give me a minute.” You whip your burgundy blazer off the back of your chair with more force than necessary; it gets twisted upside-down and something falls out of the pocket. You squat to pick it up. It’s a black, small, flat circular device that blinks red and there’s tiny little ridges in the center to indicate some kind of microphone.

What the hell is this? you think. You look back at your burgundy jacket. It’s the same one you were wearing the day you were made CEO, the night you met Natasha Romanoff. It wasn’t your most worn jacket, making the occasional appearance if you felt it complimented the rest of your outfit, but spending most of its time hanging in the front of your closet.

A disturbing thought enters your head. This little device couldn’t be what you thought it was, right? But you knew tech better than most people. And you knew that Black Widow Corporation had somehow gotten ahold of confidential information that was causing catastrophic damage to your company.

It takes all of five seconds to formulate a plan. 

You slip the audio recorder back into your pocket and put your jacket on.

Two could play at this game.

“Hey, Tony. Where are we going for lunch?” you call out, trying to keep your voice flat and clear.

“The steakhouse!” But his voice is muffled through the door.

“The steakhouse? The one on 6th Avenue, right?” you ask.

“Unless you suddenly have a new favorite that’s not on 6th,” he grumbles.

“Nope, that’s fine. Let me go check on something in the lab and I’ll be ready.”

***********************************************************************

“What’s wrong with you? Did they get your order wrong?” Tony asks as you poke at the slab of beef on your plate. 

“I’m just not really hungry,” you say. “You know, since our whole company is falling apart and everything.”

“Well, it’s still standing the last time I checked.” You appreciate how straightforward Tony is. Granted, he isn’t under the same kind of pressure as you, but you need someone who can be this cool under pressure in your life. “And I know you can’t be productive on an empty stomach. Should we order those crab legs you like?” 

“No more food please,” you mumble, pushing your plate away from you. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Hurry back. Or I’ll order the whole appetizer menu!”

“Okay, whatever.” But you smile as you walk away from the table to the back. You look at your reflection in the gold gilded mirror, noticing the clear stress lines in your forehead, the darkness under your eyes, the way your cheeks are more hollowed in because you aren’t eating your usual 4,000 calories a day.

You rinse your hands in the sink and pat water on your face. You hear the door open behind you and your heart starts pounding faster. Had your plan worked?

“What’s wrong, honey?” Her voice snaps you to attention, velvety and seductive just like how you remember hearing it the first time. You turn to see Natasha Romanoff leaned against the wall, wearing a white blouse ready to burst at its buttons along with black slacks and towering heels. Her hair loosely bounces on her shoulders and her exposed wrists and neck are adorned with more jewelry than you can count. 

“You,” you growl, striding over to her in three big steps and glaring down at her. “Are we adding stalker charges to your growing list of crimes now?”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha tilts her head to the side dumbly. “I’m here for lunch, just like you. A coincidence isn’t a crime–”

You pull the little audio device out of your pocket. Natasha’s eyes widen for a second before she quickly turns her expression into one of defiance, but she’s already given away her familiarity. “So this is how you’ve been stealing all of our ideas, huh?” you ask. 

“You have no proof that came from me,” she objects.

“I guess not.” You toss the device to the floor and stomp on it so hard with your Gucci loafers that it crumbles with an audible crunch. “And now we’ll never know. But now you’ll have to leave alone for a little bit, right? You have to give us some time to come up with more ideas for you to steal–”

“It’s nothing personal,” Natasha insists. “Business is business, isn’t it?”

“Well, once you put my reputation at risk–” You move one step closer until your chests almost bump. “–My future at risk–” You lower your head until you’re practically breathing on her face. Natasha doesn’t shy away. In fact, you think you see a glint of triumph in her green eyes. “–It becomes very, very personal.”

The tension between you is so thick it’s suffocating. You refuse to break eye contact with Natasha, but you’re not even sure what your next move should be. You know that you should hate this woman, should be calling for her head and outing her to the media for the literal crimes she’s committed, but you also want her. She hadn’t left your mind since the day you met her and knowing that she had been spying on you this whole time was both infuriating and a little arousing. 

Natasha suddenly grabs onto the front of your shirt, yanking you closer to her until your lips crash together. You hate that the contact makes you feel relief, and you wonder if part of your recent frustration can be attributed to the fact that all this time you were secretly yearning for the same woman who was responsible for ruining your life.

“Things between us are very, very personal,” Natasha whispers, her hands slipping under your shirt to scratch across your abdomen. The coldness of her skin makes you want to cringe away, but her fingers hook onto your belt to keep you from going too far.

“Did you get jealous listening to all the girls I was fucking?” you ask.

“No,” Natasha says, but her cheeks redden and you know she’s lying. “But none of them could make you moan the way I do.”

“I wished they were you,” you admit, panting against her forehead as she undoes your belt. “Which is a fucked up thing to say given what you’ve been doing to my company.”

“I’m very good at what I do, baby,” Natasha says, pressing another hot kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I’ll make your life hell if you don’t stop fucking with my company,” you growl, but your threat is significantly undermined by the whimper you let out when her fingers trace down the V-line of your hips to your center. 

“Would you rather I fuck you over your company?” she asks.

“Shit,” you gasp, unable to focus on her question when two fingers slip into you. You’re embarrassingly soaked for her, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had wet dreams of letting Natasha Romanoff fuck you ever since your first encounter. You fall back against the wall, panting as she pistons her fingers in and out of you. “Someone might walk in,” you warn, suddenly reminded about the forbiddenness of this relationship.

“I locked the door,” Natasha says, using her free hand to tug down the collar of your shirt so she can lick and kiss the skin of your neck. You bite on your lip to muffle your moan, your hands going to hold her hips roughly, pulling her closer to you. Her fingers curl and her thumb presses hard into your clit. You feel yourself clench tightly around her and your knees are ready to buckle. “For the record, I did miss you too.” 

“What took you so long?” You have no idea how you’re able to hold a conversation with Natasha Romanoff while she fucks you, but here you are. Your hands wander towards her ass, cupping her solidly and almost lifting her off the floor. 

“I had to wait,” she answers simply, her thumb flicking against your clit and your stomach burns with the stimulation. The slick noises of her fingers sliding into you is downright filthy and you rock your hips forward to urge her to move faster.

“What did you…have to wait…for?” you pant. “Your stocks to…overtake…mine?”

“Sure, baby,” Natasha says, nibbling at your collarbone and marking you with a dark hickey. You still have enough consciousness to notice the way she dodges your question. “You want to cum for me?” she asks, pistoning her hand faster.

“Yes, yes, please,” you beg, already on the verge of finishing. You adjust the angle of your hips so she can reach deeper, her fingers brushing past the sensitive ridges that make you see stars with every touch.

“Wait until I say,” she demands and you whine at her dominance. But you’re in no position to negotiate, so you keep your back pressed against the wall, desperately fighting the tidal wave of arousal threatening to crash down. 

“Nat,” you say, your fingers digging hard into her ass, “Please let me–”

“Wait,” she repeats, sounding both annoyed and aroused. She pumps into you harder and faster, until you’re quivering and don’t think you can physically hold back anymore–

“Babe–”

“Cum for me.”

You feel like your body is tearing apart as you explode over her hand, arching your back off the wall, pressing your heaving chest into Natasha’s, heart pounding like you’ve just sprinted through a marathon. Natasha’s thrusts slow as you ride out your orgasm, and as you slump against the wall, she pulls her fingers out and, sticking them into her mouth to suck off your juices. You watch her hungrily, still dizzy from the rush of endorphins. 

“My turn,” you say, hooking your arms under her thighs and her arms loop around your neck. You pick her up effortlessly and shuffle with her into the handicapped stall. This time, Natasha’s back is pinned to the wall as you crash your lips into hers, reigniting the heat between your legs. But you’ve already got your release and you are more than eager to return the favor. 

You pull down her pants and panties, mouth watering at the sight of her glistening center. You crouch down to pick her up again, this time letting her thighs rest on your shoulders so when you stand up, her pussy is perfectly in line with your mouth. Natasha’s hands tangle tightly in your hair as she draws your head towards her center, her calves locking across the back of your neck.

Without needing any more prompting, you pull forward to taste her. Her moans are music to your ears as you lap at her dripping heat, your tongue pressing deeper in search of more. All you can smell is her, all you can taste is her, and all you can think about is her. Natasha is sinful heaven to you and for a few seconds, you let yourself completely forget about how she’s ruining your life.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door.

“Hello? Why is this locked?” someone’s voice on the other side says. 

You reach up with your right hand and cover Natasha’s mouth. She bites into the side of your hand and you hiss at the pain.

“Go get one of the staff.”

“You better finish soon,” you hum, nipping at the insides of her thighs while she squirms on your shoulders. “Or the whole world is going to hear me eating you out in here.”

“They should,” Natasha pants, gripping almost painfully at the back of your head, trying to force you back between her legs. “They need to know that you’re all mine, baby.”

You want to tell her that you don’t belong to anyone, and certainly not her of all people, but the protests die in your throat as she squeezes her thighs around your head. You truly are some kind of servant to Natasha Romanoff. Your tongue runs up and down her slit, poking at her throbbing clit as she bucks forward against your face.

“Fuck, take me already,” she whines. 

“So impatient,” you tease. 

“Less talking, more fucking,” she demands.

“Same to you.” You shove your fingers into her mouth to quiet her, and she sucks on them in a way that you try to mirror against her pussy. Wrapping your lips around her clit and thrusting your tongue into her until she’s a puddle in your arms.

“...I don’t know why the door is locked. Let me speak to the manager to get the key.”

Natasha’s whimpers are muted so you have to gauge her reaction by the rest of her body. The way she grips onto your hair like it’s some kind of lifeline. Her walls milk your tongue desperately, slick spilling onto your chin. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to get enough of this woman.

The door clicks open just as Natasha finally comes undone. Your fingers muffle her moans as you quickly lick her clean, wishing you had time to bring her to a second orgasm, but the heels on the floor indicate the two of you are no longer alone. You slowly lower Natasha to the floor, suddenly feeling the burn in your shoulders as you finally relieve yourself of her weight.

“Call me next time you want to fuck someone,” Natasha pulls you in for one final kiss and slips something into your pocket. It’s her business card. 

“We’ll see,” you say, still not exactly sure of this arrangement, but not having the time to hang around and discuss. You leave the stall first, washing off at the sink and slinking out.

***********************************************************************

Natasha waits until you’ve left the bathroom to adjust herself in the mirror. She reapplies another layer of lipstick, smoothing down her blouse and tucking it back into her pants. She struts out of the restaurant, her body tingling in the aftermath of her sexcapade in the bathroom with you.

She steps into the alley adjacent to the restaurant and stands by the overflowing dumpster. She takes your wallet out of her pocket, unfolding it and laughing at the photo on your driver’s license. It was almost disappointing how easy you were. You weren’t cut out to lead a powerful company like Envy Industries. While you might have had the intellect, you clearly could not handle confrontation and even the idea of failure.

Natasha almost feels bad for you, but not bad enough to stop.

She empties the cash from your wallet, the several crisp hundred dollar bills fluttering to the ground. Maybe they’ll make some lucky homeless person’s day. Natasha pockets your heavy metal credit cards, despite having no intention but to use them as paperweights for her office. Then she finds what she’s really after: the solid black card that’s your apartment key. 

Natasha discards your wallet into the dumpster and walks out to the street to be picked up by her driver. 

***********************************************************************

You return to the table, smoothing back your hair and pulling at the newly-formed wrinkles in your shirt. You barely remember to button your shirt back up to your throat to hide the collar of hickeys Natasha left to remember her by.

“You were in there a while,” Tony comments. “You need some Pepto?”

“No, I’m fine.” You sit down, staring at your cold steak while you think. “Can we go now? I have some stuff I need to do.”

“Sure, sure.” Tony calls for the waitress and the check. You slip your phone out to view the location of the tracking device you (literally) implanted into Natasha.

It was a tiny, tiny device, probably about the size of a grain of rice. You could barely feel its weight when you have it balanced on the tip of your finger. 

“This GPS will provide an accurate location down to a meter,” Dr. Pym explains. “Designed and manufactured right here at Envy Industries, so you can rest assured this is the highest quality product you’ll find on the market.”

“Don’t mention this to my dad, will you?” you request, placing the little tracker back in its foam-padded case.

“Of course,” Dr. Pym says. “I answer to you and only you now.”

“Good.”

You weren’t a hundred-percent sure how successful you’d be, but you had tried your best to hold the GPS on your fingertip before sticking your fingers in Natasha’s mouth. Her natural reaction would be to suck and swallow, and you were hoping that the rice-sized GPS would easily find its way down her esophagus into her. 

There was no way she would know about it (or even be able to taste it) in the heat of the moment, and after a few days, it would pass through and the evidence wouldn’t be in her system anymore. You didn’t need more than a few days to track her location and habits. 

With a sigh of relief, you see the red dot on the map indicating that she’s still waiting by the street side of the restaurant, probably for her driver. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself, wondering what Natasha would say when she realizes you’re willing to play just as dirty as her.

The waitress boxes up your steak and hands it to you in a paper bag. You and Tony leave through the back entrance to the cramped parking lot and you wait until you’ve climbed into his Aston Martin to say, “Are you still in touch with that…uh…Buck guy?”

Tony is quiet for a moment. “Oh, you mean Bucky? Yeah, I see him from time to time. Why?”

You’ve never made a request like this before in your life, and you know the moment you do, it’s going to change everything. You take a deep breath, fighting the anxiety in your chest.

“I need him to get me a gun.”

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

AN: Click here for Part 3!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰