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chlorinecake · 9 months ago

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A SUCKER FOR THE TASTE ✦— 𝐋.𝐇𝐒

▹ PAIRING — experienced husband heeseung x virgin f. reader

▹ GENRE — smut, fluff, newlyweds au

▹ SYNOPSIS — As teens, you were the uncanny duo that fell in love at first sight. Some odd years later, and you’re now a newlywed couple, spending your first night together in a fit of nerves as you navigate sex and other new feelings…

▹ WARNINGS — KINKTOBER SPECIAL, basically just pussy drunk!husband!heeseung making you squirt for hours on the night of your honeymoon, marriage themes (duh), mentions of food, dom and sub dynamics, kissing with tongue, overstimulation kink (reader cums multiple times), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, petnames (baby, angel, pretty, sweetie), that’s all

▹ WORD COUNT: 3.3k — DAY 1

YOU AND HEESEUNG were like Romeo and Juliet; two people from totally different walks of life, and honestly, no one ever would’ve guessed you two’d end up falling for each other.

Sometimes, it’s hard to tell any time had passed between the first moment you met Heeseung with a hickey on his neck in the lunch hall to now as you sit before him on a king sized bed, ring fingers clad with beautiful bands to match as you stared into each others eyes, speaking a love song of unspoken words.

“You’re fine with waiting til marriage?” You remember asking him a few weeks after you first started dating as teens, “you won’t think I’m a prude for wanting to keep things traditional?…”

“Of course not, sweetie,” you remember him answering while cupping your face in his hands, “a girl like you is worth the wait—” He whispered in between kissing your lips, “—and so much more…”

Since that moment, you and Heeseung have stuck to your guns, not even so much as showering together to keep your purity intact until the right moment…

… That fateful day when you’d say “I do” and he the same, right before venturing off into the sunset on angel’s wings to explore another country together.

Another life, might I add, as a married couple on your extravagant honeymoon…

Everything was so magical in your head, too… but regardless of that, Heeseung was too big of a fucking dork to let himself be romantic for once.

Just an hour ago, he had told the hotel receptionist “you too” after she congratulated you both on getting married—

“Grrrrrrrrr,” he pouted, scrunching his nose at you.

“Did you just… growl at me!?”

“Yes, and I’ll do it again if you keep resisting,” Heeseung threatened playfully, pointing an accusing finger at your frame now.

Sighing, you raised your hands beside your head as a sign of compliance, parting your lips slightly as you held your head back for him.

“Alright, don't move this time, alright? We can do this!” He ordered more passionately this time, cradling a single grape between his fingers before angling his wrist backwards and launching it towards your mouth.

“Oh my gosh, I finally caught it!” You shouted with excitement, words coming out a bit slurred as you bit down into the sweet fruit, “Tastes like victory,” you continued, making Heeseung grace you with his thundering ovation.

“Brava!” He began to cheer, but the rest of his sentence was interrupted by his own burp, which only elicited a fit of embarrassed giggles from the both of you…

Two empty glasses of wine sat on the hotel nightstand beside the bed you were currently sat on, and if it wasn't obvious enough, y'all were already starting to experience the giddy effects of the alcohol dancing in your systems.

“So,” you smiled, a laugh still present in your throat as you fed him a white grape from the bowl between you two, “we're the couple that eats pie in place of dinner now?”

“Sure... but not just any pie,” Heeseung corrected, leaning closer to your ear as he whispered, “blueeeberry pieeee.”

You're not sure if it was the wine or the honeymoon high, but you can't help yourself from laughing out loud at Heeseung's behavior in this moment—

“You’re a legend for always vibing with my horrible sense of humor, y’know that?” Your husband remarked while tilting his head at you endearingly.

“Your humor is definitely one-of-a-kind, but I wouldn't want you to change a thing about it,” you returned tenderly, right before feeding him a fork-full of blueberry pie from the dish between you two, feeling your heart swell as he smiled into the bite.

The kind of smile you’d have a hard time getting out of your mind later—

“Thanks, babe,” he said, a bit of dark blue jam resting in the corner of his mouth now as his eyes sparkled with what you could bet was pure flattery.

You always liked it whenever you managed to get Heeseung all flustered before you, considering how he was usually the one to make you a blushing mess with only his words.

“You've uh...” you stammer slightly, “you've got a little something on your lip there...”

“Really?”

“Yea, just... let me get it for you real quick,” you continue, licking the pad of your thumb before leaning forward to dab at the jam on his mouth.

That's when you noticed his lips curving into a subtle smirk as he whispered in a low voice, “You got it, baby?”

“Y-yea,” you stuttered again, feeling your face heat up at his words, and if you didn't look so hot to him right now, he would've pinched your cheeks—

“Whoops,” Heeseung gasped facetiously, pouting at the streak of blueberry jam he very intentionally just smeared on your lower lip, “must be the wine making me so clumsy today...”

Your eye almost twitched at the sight of him licking his finger clean, a rush of nerves swarming in your stomach now

“I-it's okay, Heeseung,” you said while lifting your thumb to your mouth, “I've got it...”

“No you don't,” he chuckled at your shy demeanor, right before closing the space between you two, taking your face in his hand and kissing you.

And yes, you saw this coming, but it took you a few seconds to fully close your eyes, letting them flutter shut as you both sighed at the taste of each other, almost as if the contact relaxed you…

The kiss was slow at first, with you and him simply breathing against each other’s mouths as his velvety lips moved against yours.

But that pace didn't last long once Heeseung broke from the kiss to move the bowl of grapes and pie out of the way, a few of the glossy green ovals hitting the ground with light thuds as his right hand found the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him.

The kiss grew more intense from there as both your heads were tilting into each other, wet smacks filling the room now as his tongue prodded against yours with every passing second.

“God, you taste so sweet,” Heeseung groaned, desperately clinging to your waist which only made you moan in response.

You and Heeseung had made out countless times in the past, but you could tell something was different this time... you never felt this worked up with him before, and you knew it wasn’t just gonna end with a kiss—

“Can’t wait to taste other parts of you, too, baby…” he hummed, kissing along your neck while pinning your delicate wrists above your head.

And that’s when you felt it…

The twitch between your legs and the heat rushing throughout your entire body…

You were wearing a plaid pajama skirt and white top that matched Heeseung’s plaid sweatpants and long sleeved shirt, as you simply expected to only eat some dessert, discuss the rest of your honeymoon plans, and head straight to sleep right after.

Now though, you knew you wouldn't be able to get much rest with your emotions like this… at least not comfortably, that is…

You’re between his lap at first until he guides you onto your back, kissing down your neck, between your breasts, and down your stomach as he lifts your top, stopping at the waist band of your skirt given the way your body tensed up suddenly.

“Is everything alright?” He asked softly, glancing back up at you with a swollen look to his pouty lips, given all the kissing they had just done.

You knew what was happening right now..

Heeseung was doing exactly what you had asked him to do, and as much as your body craved it, your mind kept fighting it for some reason…

FLASHBACK —

“Just… don’t make it too… formal, okay?”

“Formal?” Heeseung repeated with a slight chuckle as you sat beside each other on the plane that morning.

“Well, yea… I just don’t want to make a big deal out of it—”

“But it is a big deal, baby,” he cut you off by placing his hand over yours. “We’ve been waiting a long time for this, y’know?… Not just to have sex but—” he leaned closer to you as he whispered this in your ear, “—to make each other feel good… in all kinds of ways…”

His breath tickled your ear in that moment… similarly to how his lips were tickling you now as you laid before him on the mattress, his head hovering over the space between your thighs.

“We don’t have to go any further until you’re ready, love—”

“I’m ready, Heeseung,” you said while nodding, but he waited to continue, knowing in his heart that there was still something you needed to get off your chest.

He backed away, pulling your shirt back over your stomach and sitting on the bed normally now.

“Heeseung,” you said again, drawing his sparkly doe eyes back to you.

“I’m listening, love,” is all he replied with, offering you a warm smile, “what’s on your mind?”

What’s in the way? You internally asked yourself right after, knowing deep down that you had no reason to feel so nervous with him right now…

Heeseung had never alienated you because of your inexperience with sex before, and was always very understanding of your moral and sexual boundaries.

But now, things were different; you were a married couple, and one of the many perks of that was being able to explore each others body in a comfortable way…

Turns out though, it was all just your own insecurities clouding your judgment, and you hated that you couldn’t shake the nerves bubbling in your stomach…

“It’s just that,” you started nervously, fidgeting with your manicured nails, “I… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Yeah, I know,” your husband nodded sarcastically, trying his best to resist the urge to kiss you again—

“And…well, you have a lot more experience than me with this kind of thing,” you continued, lowering your head.

“So what?”

“What if I don’t meet your expectations?…”

“Expectations? What do you mean, ____?”

“Well, you’ve been with a lot of other girls and what if I’m not as good as them? What if you don’t like sex with me?…”

Heeseung’s heart would’ve otherwise dropped at your words, but instead, he smiled softly, taking your chin in his hand and lifting your head towards him. “You’re nothing like those girls I was with in the past, ____, and that’s my favorite part about you,”

You looked into his eyes as he continued, “I’ll be happy with whatever happens tonight. You wanna know why? Because I did it with you, and I love you with my everything, princess…”

“I love you too, Heeseung,” you replied meekly, flashing him a soft smile as he kissed your cheek.

“No expectations tonight, then… okay, baby? I just wanna please you,” he whispered, slowly guiding your body back down against the mattress with a secure hand. “I wanna make you feel so good,” he continued, placing another kiss to the center of your lips.

Heeseung started by letting his plush lips wander all over your body again, lifting your shirt up once more to leave open-mouthed kisses all over your stomach.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured with warm breath against your skin, caressing your inner thighs with his hands until you naturally craned them open, inviting him to your pulsing core.

Your breath hitched once you felt his nose burry between your clothed folds, but your little sounds only excited him even further, and he wasted no time in removing your panties completely now.

“Heeseung,” you whined, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he spat on your cunt, toying with the moisture there using his middle and index finger.

“Just relax for me, angel,” your husband cooed with a soothing tone, and you're not sure if it was the alcohol or the petname he just called you in his bedroom voice, but your head was starting to feel very dizzy.

And if you weren't so horny, you would've felt bashful in front of him like this... half-naked, and trembling when he's hardly even touched you yet.

The coldness of his wedding band against the warm flesh of your thigh sent shivers down your spine, and he wasted no time in inviting his fingers into your sopping hole, one at a time until your walls practically sucked him in.

He then started to leave kitten licks against your sensitive bud, complimenting the pace by pumping his wrist towards your pelvis with his digits still exploring the gummy walls of your cunt.

Admittedly, you had tried fingering yourself in the past, but it never felt as good as the way Heeseung worked wonders inside you right now, but you still needed something...

Something to hold onto… something to grab, and Heeseung could immediately tell once your nails started weakly nipping at the bed sheets, your pussy throbbing more and more—

“Hee,” you moaned, feeling his fingers curl deeper and deeper inside your tight cunt, “need to touch you so bad...”

“Yea? Wanna hold my hand, pretty?”

All you can manage to do is nod desperately, making him chuckle slightly at your neediness.

“If you hold my hands, I need you to promise to keep your legs open for me on your own... can you do that for me, love?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, and with that, Heeseung got to work on licking your slick from his fingers before finding your hands in his.

But your core was already missing the stimulation, making your hips rise up and down as if thin air would provide enough friction to ease your craving.

And that's when he licked his first stripe up the center of your pussy, and you're sure your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the sensation.

It didn't take long for the pleasure to escalate from there, either.

His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked you in like a starved out man. His tongue was applying pressure in all the best ways before sinking into your hole, filling you up just enough to have you arching your back on the bed.

You felt your first orgasm wash over you, but you knew your husband had no intention of stopping so soon.

You were mewling beneath him at the overstimulation, thankful that he at least slowed down the pace of his tongue, even though he was still very earnestly slurping at your juices…

“Could eat this pussy for hours, princess… you’re just too delicious…” he groaned, and you felt the bed shaking from the way he was rutting his crotch against the mattress, furrowing his eyebrows as his kept eating you out.

“Come on baby, let me hear you,” Heeseung practically begged, his tone sounding so hoarse, so drunk as the vibrations from his voice only tantalized you even further, “tell me how good it feels...”

“F-feels s-so fucking good, baby,” you moaned, words coming out in fragments given how cloudy your brain was becoming, and you're pretty sure you had your second or third orgasm shortly after as your hands squeezed his, so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

His tongue was licking between your folds so well, the textured muscle making your skin tingle all over but in the best way imaginable.

Heeseung didn't plan on any of this to happening, which is why it felt so good in the first place. It was natural, raw, and so so messy…

Your own cum was dripping all over his chin and lips, and he was loving every single second of it.

He was obsessed with it. The way your clit throbbed against his lips, the way you squirted your juices all over his face, the way your thighs squirmed while struggling to stay open, and your angelically desperate cries of pleasure as he drew out orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

He wished he could watch your face contort with need as he fucked you with his face and tongue, but he couldn't look back up at you no matter how hard he tried… He had to keep his face buried between you…

Your strength eventually gave out and your grip released his hands that soon found one of your tits, gripping the mound of flesh in a way that only drew you even further over the edge.

Your hips had even developed a mind of their own, humping against his face like a bunny in heat as he whispered filthy nothings against your cunt, as well as sweet somethings that you'd hear for the next hour or two that Heesueng spent with his pointy nose brushing against your clit.

“You're so fucking wet for me, angel...”

“Love it when you come all over my face.”

“Pull my hair, baby... harder than that...”

“So so beautiful, and just for me.”

“Keep those pretty thighs open just like that, baby…”

“You taste so fucking divine...”

“Please don't tell me to stop... just one more, baby... I know you've got it in you...”

He found just as much enjoyment being between your thighs as you did in having him there, making you cream on his tongue again and again until you finally hiccuped the words, “N-no more, Hee... p-please, I can't t-take anymore...”

But your begging only made Heeseung even greedier, letting his fingers find your clit where he applied enough pressure and stimulation to break that last orgasm out of you, leaving you a shaking mess as he kissed you down, harder than a bullet in his own pants from getting to see you like this so many times and for so long in just one evening.

A series of shaky whimpers filled the room now as your husband crawled back over you, kissing you with his swollen lips while caressing the side of your fucked-out face. “You did so good for me, baby... especially on your first night...”

“Th-thank you,” you said with a weak chuckle, still feeling your orgasms fresh in your hips and thighs as he kept soothing you with his touch, your breath shaky in your chest after hours of coming undone with him…

That's when he moved over to lay beside you, and your eyes almost immediately caught sight of the thick bulge resting behind his pants, and you couldn't help but feel a little bad now given how he didn’t get much action the whole time.

“Do you want me to...” you started timidly, moving your hand to touch him up til he stopped you.

“Not tonight... we can have fun with that tomorrow,” Heeseung smiled, making you giggle again as he changed his position to make the bulge less noticeable, “for now though, let's focus on getting you cleaned up... sound good?”

“Better than good,” you replied tenderly, kissing him on the cheek before he got up from the bed and headed toward the hotel bathroom where he planned to run you a nice warm bath.

“Wait!” Your husband called out suddenly, just as he caught you trying to get out of the bed on your own.

Running over, a confused look remained on your face as he picked you up from the mattress bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom.

“I didn't forget how to walk, Heeseung,” you giggled, keeping your hands secure at his shoulder as he cradled you into the tub.

“I know,” he laughed, helping you get your top off and over your head as the water ran in the background, “I just didn't want my precious wife accidentally stepping on any of those grapes I dropped earlier...”

It went without saying that Heeseung had always been a loser, but he was your loser, and that fact alone was the bandaid that covered up every preconceived notion of him you ever created in the back of your mind…

You didn’t see him the way other people saw him… as the former man whore, troublemaker, or hopeless goof from high school, ‘destined’ to never change…

You saw him as the adorable nerd who accepted you for the things you saw as flaws… as the guy who still wore character themed PJ’s every once in a while that you now get to call “Hubby,” “lovey,” and “mine…”

⋆♱✮ Huge thanks to everyone who read this little fic of mine, which actually concludes DAY 1 of my Kinktober Event !! If you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings

#enhypen #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #enhypen hard hours #heeseung fic #heeseung ff #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen fanfic #enhypen ff #lee heeseung #heeseung hard thoughts #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #kinktober 2024

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sailorsoons · 5 months ago

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Amnesia (c.sc)

PAIRING: Choi Seungcheol x f. reader

Summary: Choi Seungcheol has never been the type to commit to relationships - casual is more his thing. You’re fine with that - except you and Seungcheol seem to be terrible at casual when it comes to one another.

WC: 11,920

GENRE: Friends with benefits to lovers

AU: Smut, Angst if you squint

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Under the cut

A/N: This fic was posted on my original blog which has been deleted. I am now reposting it. I hope it does half as well as it did when I originally posted this story - thank you to everyone who left amazing feedback the first time. It genuinely made me so happy and I am so sorry that it got sent to the moon where I can no longer read it.

A/N 2: Thank you @yoongukie-ff for sending me your original reblog of this to pull the summary information from. I appreciate you and I love you!

MASTERLIST | PERMANENT TAG LIST | ASK | PLAYLIST

Warnings: Recreational drinking, mild jealousy from both reader and Cheol, themes of self doubt/relationship doubt, light depictions of anxiety regarding ambiguous relationships, explicit language, Cheol and reader are both idiots, explicit sexual content including oral (f. and m. receiving), vaginal fingering, nipple stim, breath play if you squint, unprotected vaginal sex, a lot of bodily fluids like spit and cum, multiple smut scenes, hair pulling, light spanking, sub-space adjacent feelings, being a lil silly goofy during sex sometimes, stupid ass nicknames at the end because I’m a millennial and I’m cringe sometimes.

DAY ONE

YOU'RE A GONER AS SOON AS YOU LAY EYES ON HIM. You know it before Jeonghan properly introduces you, shouting over the rock music that is blaring in the dive bar you like to hang out at on Friday nights. The neon from the sign creates a blue silhouette around Seungcheol as he smiles and holds a hand out to you. You can barely pull yourself together to shake his hand - warm, firm - too busy staring at his face.

Choi Seungcheol is what your best friend Vin likes to call pretty motherfuckin handsome. He’s got dark, warm eyes that light up playfully when they meet yours, full lips the color of crushed rose petals, a square, firm jawline and silky dark hair that falls in his eyes when he tilts his face down to hide a smile at something Jeonghan says.

Crushed against the wall of the booth, you feel the cold glass of your beer warm against your palms as you steal glances at Seungcheol. He’s directly across from you, angling his broad shoulders to fit snug into the corner of the booth, lounging backward as he observes the argument brewing between Joshua and Jeonghan.

He even dresses well. Fitted t-shirt paired with light wash jeans and boots, a fancy watch reflecting the burning neon on the wall next to him, delicate chain necklaces tucked into the collar of his shirt.

It’s the way he wears them that speaks to you, though.

“Do they do this often?” his deep voice drags you from your reverie. You blink, gathering yourself when you realize he’s leaning forward a little, addressing you. He sips his beer before tilting the tip of the bottle toward Jeonghan and Joshua. “It’s like they're married.”

“You have no idea. Wait until game night.”

“Oh yeah. Jeonghan told me about game night.” Seungcheol’s mouth twitches in a smile. “You’ll be there?”

“Every Sunday. Do you like games?”

Something about the glint in his eye makes your stomach flip. You sip your beer just to give you something to do, feeling more drunk off the easy confidence he exudes as he shrugs. “Depends on the game. I’m competitive.”

“So am I.”

He grins. “I look forward to it, then.”

Warming up to Seungcheol is easy. He’s the new hire at Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s office, and they both felt confident enough to bring him into the fold. You can see why - he’s kind and funny, and there’s a charm to him that draws the people around him like moths to a flame. Even with just the four of you sitting in the booth, you feel the magnetism.

Friday nights at Rusty’s has been a tradition with Jeonghan and Joshua since you had been in college, filling yourself on five dollar wings, three dollar beers and occasionally lukewarm mozzarella sticks. Normally Vin, Wonwoo and Mingyu would be around, but tonight it’s just the smaller group.

Jeonghan and Joshua slide out of the booth to play darts, shoving one another back and forth, the drink in their step making them a little off balance. You smile fondly as you pluck another beer out of the bucket of ice, struggling to pop the top, your wet hands sliding against the metal cap.

Wordlessly, Seungcheol holds his hand out. Flushing from the neck down, you hand it over to him with a silent thank you. He pops the top easily, bicep flexing for a moment before he passes it back over, shooting you an award winning grin.

“Wow, so strong.”

He pouts and you swear you see stars. “Hey, I am strong.”

“No, no, you are. Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t tease me. I’m new.”

“Huh.” You sip your beer, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat. It does nothing to soothe the heat spreading over your skin under the sole attention of Seungcheol. “I don’t remember that being a rule.”

“I never was one to play by the rules anyway.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you cheat at games like Jeonghan does.”

“I like winning.”

You roll your eyes. From the edge of your vision, you see people leave the pool table. Eager to stand up and stretch your legs, you start to slide out of the booth, the wood grain scratching against your jeans as you do.

“Come on then, cheater. Let’s play pool.”

“I’m down.”

Seungcheol follows you. Your fingers grip the glass of your drink tight, knuckles straining. You move around tables and duck around other patrons, hyper aware of the way Seungcheol keeps close to you, the heat of him against your back.

Next to the rows of dart boards are two pool tables, the felt a faded green with beer stains and other mysterious smudges on the surface. You grab a cue from the rack on the wall, spin it in your hands, and hand it over to Seungcheol. He eyes it, running his fingers along the splintered and dented wood.

Grabbing your cue in one hand and the triangle rack and set it on the table while he collects the balls from the table and the pockets, rolling them over to you. A few feet away, Joshua is already accusing Jeonghan of cheating. You don’t know how you cheat in darts, but you do know if there is a will, Jeonghan will find a way.

“Dangerous to let them have sharp objects,” Seungcheol notes, sliding the last ball over to you. You huff out a laugh, rolling the rack of billiard balls back and forth to set them. “You’re not going to get violent with me, right?”

“I don’t know, are you going to cheat?”

His smile is wicked. “Me? Definitely not.”

“Hmm. Not convincing.”

Seungcheol presses the flat of his palm over his chest, drawing your eyes to how thick he is in the chest area. You swallow thickly as he says, “Cross my heart.”

“Whatever you say. What are we playing for?”

“What will you give me?”

You look up at the shift in his tone. Dark. Flirty. He leans against the pool table, resting his hip casually as he crosses his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his arms flex, totally focused on the way his eyes are only for you. Intent. Meaningful.

A warning goes off in your head. You already feel the pull to him, the innate attraction that has your heart hammering. You should brush off the flirtation, move on to other things. Relationships aren’t really your thing, but there’s something about him that makes you know you’ll want more.

You already do want more.

“What do you want?” you ask softly, ignoring your better judgment.

When Seungcheol smiles, you know you’d give him anything. Everything.

“I can think of something, I think.”

DAY SEVEN

“I like this,” Seungcheol says, voice rough from use. He buttons his jeans, looking over at you. You’re still half-alive on your bed, a sheen of sweat covering your body. The sheets stick to you when you roll to look at him. “Are you good with casual?”

You’re only half listening, too distracted by his flexing abs. “Hmm?”

Seungcheol looks good tonight. He looks good every night, but tonight he’s in dark jeans and a white sweater. The sweater looks soft like his hair, which has grown longer and hangs in his eyes as he looks down to slip on his shoes.

“I’m not really looking for a relationship at the moment but this,” he answers, flicking his fingers between the two of you. “It’s good.”

“Agreed. I’m good with casual. I’m a little too busy for anything more.”

It’s not a lie. You are too busy to really commit to someone. Again, a warning goes off in your mind like that first night you met him, screaming danger. You ignore it, not ready to give up Seungcheol just yet.

He grins, pulling his short back over his head. “Cool. If you ever don’t want to or whatever though, let me know, yeah?”

“You too.”

DAY TEN

Seungcheol [2:06 AM]: Come home with me You [2:06 AM]: Everyone would notice Seungcheol [2:07 AM]: Tell them where you’re going who caaaares Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Unless you don’t want to tell them then that’s ok Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: I personally don’t care if they know I’m rearranging your guts most nights :) You [2:10 AM]: CHEOL You [2:10 AM]: Fine pls hold my hand while I do this. They’re going to roast me Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Holding your hand sooo tight Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: But from like over here tho You [2:19 AM]: That was so embarrassing. Where did you go Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: She’s so brave, she’s well behaved Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: Standing outside hurry it's cold as dick out here

Seungcheol [4:38 AM]: Don’t forget to text me when you make it home You [4:52 AM]: Home safe!

DAY TWENTY THREE

You [11:10 PM]: Wyd Seungcheol [11:34 PM]: Need it that bad? You [11:39 PM]: Wow goodnight!!!!! Seungcheol [11:39 PM]: Nah come back Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: COME BACK Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: Omw. Unlock the door You [11:45 PM]: Need it that bad? Seungcheol [11:45 PM]: Yes actually :)

DAY THIRTY

You slide your finger across the phone, curious as you pick up Seungcheol’s phone call. “Hello?”

“Are you hungry?”

You look at your watch. It’s almost one in the afternoon, your stomach growling as it realizes that yeah you are kind of hungry. “Actually yeah. Why?”

“I had to run errands and I’m by your place and starving. Wanna get lunch?”

Your lips twitch in a smile. Leaning against the counter, you press the phone against you a little closer. “Sure, what did you have in mind?”

“Do you like Greek?” You hum in assent, chewing on your fingernail nervously. You can hear him get into his car, pausing momentarily as he starts it and curses at how hot it is. You can’t help but laugh. “Alright, pick you up in ten?”

“Alright.”

DAY FORTY THREE

He’s not yours. You tell yourself that over and over again as you try not to look across the bar where Seungcheol is sitting for the nth time. You’d noticed him immediately when you and Vin walked in, clocking his wide frame and familiar laugh with a precision that makes you curse yourself.

Now, Seungcheol is leaning against a high top, talking to a pretty girl sitting on a stool next to him. He’d waved at you earlier and shot you a smile and a wink, but he’s with friends you’re unfamiliar with tonight, and hasn’t come over.

Not that you expect him to. He isn’t yours and the casual thing you’ve got going means he can do whatever he wants, no strings attached.

So why is your heart in your throat as you glance over to see the girl laughing at something he’s said? They’re not alone but somehow that isn’t comforting at all. You pick at the varnish on the table to distract yourself, suddenly interested in the splinters and not the man across the bar from you.

Finishing the rest of your beer, you pull out another, hoping that the hoppy taste erases the icky feeling that settles on your skin. You’re not participating in conversation much, but if your friends notice, they have the decency not to call you out.

At least Vin knows what’s up, checking on you every once in a while. Thankfully she doesn’t say anything, occasionally giving you a squeeze instead. She knows the deal, understanding the irrationality between wanting to control something that isn’t yours to control.

Halfway through your beer, your phone vibrates. You flip it over and your heart starts pounding when you see Seungcheol’s name come across the screen, a message waiting to be read. With a shaky hand, you slide your thumb across the screen to unlock it, the message popping up.

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: Wanna come back to mine?

Surprised, you look up from your phone to where he’s still at the high top. His phone is in his hands and he’s looking right at you, flashing a grin when you meet his eyes. The girl is still sitting next to him, but his attention is entirely on you now, pinning you to the spot.

Your phone vibrates again and you glance down, your phone’s brightness stark in the gloom of the bar.

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: You’re cute when you’re surprised You [12:14 AM]: What, the girl you were talking to said no? Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: I didn’t ask her. I asked you Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: Omg wait are you jealous?? You [12:14 AM]: No You [12:14 AM]: Definitely not Seungcheol [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me is Hades for a liar or whatever You [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another, loser Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Same thing Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: But seriously, I have no interest in her. I’m asking YOU Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Will beg from my knees in this bar Seungcheol [12:19 AM]: Even tho the floor is kind of gross You [12:20 AM]: I mean, if you’re offering to get on your knees…

You’re not sure if you trust his answer about not being interested in the other girl, but it doesn’t matter. You still end up leaning against him in an Uber, his hand squeezing your thigh playfully as he leans his forehead on the window, eyes closed to enjoy the cool glass.

He is so handsome, face glowing red as the car stops at a stoplight. You examine him closely, eyes dragging from the soft curve of his mouth to his impossibly silk lashes. You’d told him once that most girls would kill for those lashes, and now he likes to bat them at you every time he wants something.

The car starts moving and you look away from him, taking in a deep breath. Seungcheol isn’t yours, but you’re starting to think you want him to be.

DAY FIFTY TWO

“Is it weird if I bring a bag of shit to stay?” Seungcheol’s voice is shy over the receiver. You grip your phone tighter, biting your bottom lip to hide your smile as you roll onto your side in bed, snuggling into the pillow more. It smells like him, bergamot and cedarwood. “You can tell me if that’s weird.”

“Not weird at all,” you say carefully, too nervous to scare him off. “You usually end up sleeping here anyway.”

Usually really means always. He’s been doing that more recently, crashing at your apartment after coming over and vice versa. You’ve gone from Uber rides home at dawn to waking up curled into his back. He’s the first person you’ve ever let loiter in your space as much as he has, but you try not to think about it too much, as though just the acknowledgement might spook him.

Whatever thing between you feels fragile, a rare, glass menagerie set that can shatter if handled wrong. Friends with benefits is what you call it, but you’re not quite sure if that’s what it is.

“Okay cool. Waking up at the ass crack of dawn to go back to my place and shower sucks.”

“I do have a shower.”

“Oh I’m aware. It’s one of my favorite places in your apartment.”

Your stomach flutters and you clench your thighs together. Looking at the clock on your nightstand, you realize it’s getting late. “Better hurry,” you murmur. “I might be too tired for a shower when you get here.”

His chuckle is deep. Throaty. “I’ll speed, then.”

After hanging up, you toss your phone to the end of your bed and stare at the ceiling. Outside, the city hums beyond the window of your apartment. The lights in your home are mostly turned off, a single lamp providing low light in the living room so Seungcheol can see when he comes in, and a flickering candle on your nightstand and in the bathroom.

Your bed is warm and you do feel sleepy, but the excitement of seeing Seungcheol keeps you awake well enough. You try not to think of that too much, either. He was just there a few nights prior, and already he’s on his way back. Like it’s common. Routine.

And it sort of is, you guess. You hangout with Seungcheol almost more than you see Vin and Jeonghan these days, and you’re almost always spending the night together. You know his favorite late night snacks, you know the type of coffee he likes to make in the morning before work, and you know about his family, his stresses at work. What makes him tick.

It’s more than you ever thought you’d know about him when you agreed to keep your sex life with him casual and at a distance. He is anything but at a distance.

Seungcheol must speed, because it feels like hardly any time has passed when you hear your apartment door open and shut, the sound of the deadbolt clicking. You lift yourself up to lean on your elbows, watching from your bed as he enters your line of vision, a backpack over one shoulder.

He’s dressed in a long t-shirt and sweats, cozy and warm and still unbelievably good looking. He grins when he sees you, eyes creasing at the corners as he enters your room and drops his bag by your door.

Without saying anything, Seungcheol crawls onto your bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he inches up over you. Falling backward onto the mattress, you let him loom over you. Heat radiates from his body, warming you up. Your heart thuds as he ducks down, his hands bracketing your head as he cages you in. He brushes his nose against yours and you feel sparks, trying to regulate your breathing.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you whisper back, reaching your hands up to rest on his hips. He reacts, pressing his waist into yours a little, making you bear his weight. “Ugh, heavy.”

“Too bad.”

Seungcheol’s teeth nip your jaw, making your hips twitch upward. You can feel the smirk against your skin as he presses a wet kiss under your ear, moving his way to your neck.

“I was promised a shower.”

“Maybe I’m too tired,” You murmur.

He hums, leaning more of his weight into you. It’s comforting, not crushing, and you can feel the way his heart is beating wildly in his chest, in tune with yours. You smell bergamot and cedarwood, making your thoughts dizzy and scattered while he whispers, “I’ll wash your hair.”

“Hmmm. I’m listening.”

He presses a wet kiss to your pulse point, tongue laving against your skin. Your fingers twist in his shirt, your muscles tensing as you fight off a shiver. You can hear his soft breath, the way the sheets shift under the two of you, the way your heart hammers.

“I’ll massage your shoulders…”

“Hmm.”

His teeth scrape against your throat and you sigh, arching up into him, eyes closed. “I’ll eat you out.”

Fuck. You’re putty in his hands. Seungcheol could get you to do anything he asked. You don’t know if he knows - you’re too afraid to show him, to let him in on the secret out of fear of what it would mean to him. If it was too much, too deep.

But like this, it’s hard not to hide it. Especially when his filthy mouth hits a weak point in you, turning you thoughtless as you nod your head in response, nails digging into his hip bones through the fabric of his shirt. He makes a noise in response, leaning up off of you reluctantly but pulling you with him.

Dropping his hands, you head to the bathroom, feeling uneven. Seungcheol whines and grabs you to pull you back toward him. He wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly.

“You haven’t even given me a kiss,” he pouts, looking down at you through long, dark lashes. “I want a kiss.”

This is the problem with Seungcheol. He says things like this when you’re supposed to be casual, something easy and without feelings and without strings. But this feels like something, it feels like there's a thread connecting you, tugging your mouth to his because of course you indulge him.

You always do.

Seungcheol’s lips are soft and taste faintly of his cherry chapstick. You smile into the kiss, standing on your tiptoes to press closer to him. He kisses you back eagerly, slotting his lips against yours and humming with delight. When you pull away, he’s smug, grinning happily.

“Come on,” he urges, now leading the charge as he pulls you by the hand toward your bathroom.

Instead of turning on the light, Seungcheol uses the glow of the burning candle on the counter to navigate. He drops your hand to open up the cabinets and pulls out two towels as you trail to the shower, opening the glass door to lean in and turn it on.

Steam starts to fill the room as you close the shower door and turn to him. He sets the towels on the counter, not bothering to shut the door to the bedroom. Instead, he grips the bottom of his shirt and peels it upward and over his head, revealing all toned muscle and tan skin.

He momentarily distracts you. Seungcheol is a work of art, equal parts rippling muscle and soft skin. You slide your shorts down, distracted by the way he looks in the golden shroud of the candle light, sliding his sweatpants down his legs.

Sensing your eyes, he lifts his head as he kicks off his sweats, briefs slung low on his hips. “Admiring me?”

“Shut up.”

Looking away, you take off your shirt, feeling the heat flush from your cheeks down to your neck. He chuckles, peeling off his briefs before kicking them toward the sink and striding toward the shower. He stops to kiss you on the cheek as he pulls open the door.

“I don’t mind,” he teases. “I like it.”

It’s true. Seungcheol has always had the easy confidence of someone who is comfortable in their skin. You admire that about him - and envy him a little. Seungcheol never seems to worry what others think of him, nor does he seem embarrassed or concerned about making the wrong move. Saying the wrong thing.

Steam hits you full on as you step into the shower. Seungcheol is already standing under the spray of water, his back turned toward you. For a moment you admire him again, watching the way the water sluices down his broad back and narrow waist.

Your eyes drift to the tattoo at his neck, the branches of the tree stretching toward his shoulders. You’ve traced that tree with the tips of your fingers and tongue over and over again, fascinated about the way the ink flexes when he moves.

A chill catches you, making you shiver and step toward the heat of the water. He senses your approach, turning his head to the side to look at you over his shoulder. He grins, reaching a hand back toward you to pull you close. You lace your fingers, letting him pull you into him as he turns.

Hot water hits your skin, immediately soothing. You sigh, leaning into the firmness of him, Seungcheol’s arms wrapping around you. He catches your mouth again, your eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you slowly, tongue lazy as he licks into your mouth.

Seungcheol’s hands spread across your back, fingers digging in a little as he starts to explore, one hand surging up and the other down. You moan into his mouth as the hand that drifts down grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing a little. His mouth curves into the kiss and you feel his teeth pull at your bottom lip, something he knows you love.

As always, you’re a goner. You don’t stand a chance with him. Not that first night and not now when he kisses you like something more. Not when he slides his hand around to your front, pressed between your bodies to run his fingers up the wet folds of your pussy.

He groans into the kiss that has turned sloppy, hungry. “Fucking wet.”

“We’re in the shower.”

He growls and pulls his mouth from you to attach to your neck, biting and sucking harshly. You let out a breathy sound, head tilting back heavily as you feel his tongue lick the water from your skin. “Don’t take away my credit.”

“The only crime is pride.”

The pads of his fingers press into your clit, making your knees knock together and the breath leave your lungs. He smiles against your neck, humming. “Which classic are you quoting at me today?”

“Antigone by Sophocles.”

“What’s that one about?”

Finding words is nearly impossible. The heat of the shower has you flushed and distracted, the steam making it harder to breathe, thoughts sticky as Seungcheol continues to tease you, fingers dragging down to your clenching entrance to press his fingers in slightly before dragging them back up.

Your nails bite into the back of his neck, clinging to him for life as he holds you up, one arm looped around your back to press you to him while the other makes all your thoughts scattered.

“Come on,” he urges gently, bringing his face to yours. He brushes his nose against yours, nudging. “Tell me.”

“She was a tragic character in a play written by Sophocles,” you sigh. “She was the daughter of Oedipus.”

“The guy who fucked his mom?”

Your laughter bubbles out of you. He laughs too, his hold tightening. “Yeah, Cheol. The guy who fucked his mom.”

“Craaazy family.”

“Do you really want to talk about Greek tragedy incest right now?”

“Nope,” he says happily. “I do want to eat this pussy though.”

Seungcheol flips gears so quickly that it’s hard to keep up. He swings you toward the glass wall of the shower, pressing your chest against it. You moan loudly, startled by the cool glass against your hard nipples. The contrast of hot water and the cool glass feels good, your eyes fluttering shut as Seungcheol drops to his knees behind you. He gently presses the inside of your knees, urging you to spread your legs.

“Just like that,” he encourages, hands ghosting upward to squeeze your ass. He pulls your hips away from the glass and toward him, groaning as he comes face level to your cunt. “Fuck.”

Your breath fogs the glass. It’s cold when you press your palms against it, holding yourself up as Seungcheol dips forward, running the flat of his tongue down your slit. You let out a pathetic sound and he laughs, fingers squeezing your flesh.

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. You melt, knees shaking and unsteady as Seungcheols tongue leisurely explores your folds, dipping into your entrance before dragging up to circle your clit.

One of your hands leaves the glass to reach back, sinking into the wet strands of his hair and holding him to you. He grunts in pleasure, the buzz of his mouth adding to the simulation as he fastens his lips to you, sucking gently.

Seungcheol’s mouth is a weapon. You fall apart under the warmth of his lips, the softness of his tongue. He sucks at your core, greedy and pleased, fingers digging into you as he presses in further. He can never get enough, the wet sounds of his hunger making your toes curl.

“Feels so good,” you pant against the glass. Your nails scrape against his scalp and he moans loudly, muffled by your cunt. “Your fucking mouth.”

“Mmm. Love you like this.” His tongue flicks expertly across your clit and you feel your thighs clench, legs shaking as your orgasm spools inside of you. “God this shower hurts my fucking knees though.”

“You wanted to eat me out in the shower.”

A hand cracks across your ass cheek, making you arch against the glass. He chuckles, tongue diving back, words slurred as he mutters, “And I’d do it again.”

Seungcheol’s mouth feels divine. You go quiet as he sucks at you, focused on the warmth spreading through you and the way your breath starts to stutter, limbs locking up.

When you come, you go boneless. Seungcheol holds you up, pressing you against the glass as he licks you through your orgasm. You twitch against him, nails dragging in his hair, your other hand sliding against the glass as you fight to grip anything to ground you.

Breathing raggedly, you sag when he pulls his face from you and stands. He groans and you grin, knowing his knees hurt from the tile of the shower. He doesn’t care, though. He crowds you in, cock pressed against your backside as his arms loop around you.

“Kiss me.” His voice is soft, needy.

Turning your face over your shoulder, you let him catch his mouth with yours, all tongue and cum and spit. You don’t care, pushing into him. One of his hands slides down between your legs, making you whimper into his mouth as he slides his fingers through your sticky folds to press two of them into your entrance.

Seungcheol is a giver. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve slept together or had brief, fast encounters, he always makes it a point to please you. To go out of his way to make you shake against him, like he needs it.

He keeps your mouth melded to his as his fingers fuck you slowly. You clench around his fingers, moaning his name as he presses them against the soft spot inside of you. You see stars, panting into his mouth as he strings you along, dragging you toward another orgasm.

It’s slow. Intimate. His mouth is hot and wet, sucking at biting at your bottom lip. His other hand snakes up to your throat, not applying pressure but gripping you, holding you to him. If he didn’t have you so tightly pressed to the glass, you think you’d collapse.

“You won’t fall,” he breathes into your mouth, reading your mind. “I’ve got you.”

“My knees are fucking useless right now.”

“You’re tough. Come on, I know you can give me more.”

You’ll give him anything he asks. You feel your heart slamming in your chest as he works you up again, feel the ragged breathing until you momentarily stop, everything tense and suspended as you clench around his fingers, shuddering violently as you come.

“Knew it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

A whine leaves you at the praise, head shaking back and forth a little as the oversensitivity makes you squirm. He works you through it, mouth pressed to your ear, whispering to breathe, baby as he strokes you gently until you’re leaning against him heavily.

Seungcheol removes his hand but keeps holding you up, letting you catch your breath. He peppers innocent kisses along your shoulder, lips brushing your skin tenderly. When you stand up with more strength, he pats you on the hip, gentle.

“Good?”

“Mhmm.” Craning over your shoulder, you catch his chin with your mouth, kissing softly. You press your ass into him, feeling his straining cock. “Come on.”

“Yeah?”

“All good.”

“Thank fuck. Thought I lost you.”

“I’ve had worse,” you grin, a little tired.

He kisses you, patting you approvingly before he grinds the tip of his cock between your legs. He groans deep in his chest, grip on you tightening for a moment. You reach behind you, gripping the base of his cock firmly, stroking gently before lining him up with your entrance.

Seungcheol pushes in, both of you whining in harmony at the feeling. It feels good, your pussy throbbing around him as he presses in slowly, letting you feel the stretch. He clings to you, trying to keep it together as you flutter around him.

“Yeah,” he whispers, more to himself than you. “Shit.”

Gently, Seungcheol starts to fuck you against the glass, strokes deep and slow. It’s mind-numbingly good, your cheek cool and pressed against the shower wall, Seungcheol’s face buried in your neck, breath puffing against your skin.

He holds you reverently, both hands on your hips to keep you where he wants you. You reach one hand behind your head, holding the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin. He hums happily, always pleased when you bite and scratch him.

That had been a surprise. You always thought he wouldn’t want you to mark him, that he wouldn’t want evidence of your time spent together. Seungcheol is the opposite though, urging you to rake your nails across soft skin, to bite at him and bruise him.

Your feet slide apart a little as he strengthens his thrusts. You squeal, hand smacking the glass to hold yourself up. He lets out a loud laugh, pausing to let you fix your stance. He taps your thigh in question and you nod, lifting your leg a little to let him slide a hand under your thigh to press it against the shower wall for better grip.

When he rolls his hips into you this time, it’s deeper, making you tremble against the glass. A groan drips from Seungcheol’s mouth as he sets his pace, pinning you between him and the glass with nothing to do but to take what he gives you.

“Can you do another?” he asks, breath shaky. His fingers squeeze your thigh for emphasis, the snap of his hips getting stronger. You nod, unable to answer verbally. He huffs, half laughter, half something else. “Yeah you can.”

And you can. Seungcheol can pull pleasure out of you like thread from a loom, his skilled hands guiding you where he wants you to go. It’s easy for him, the way he knows your body so acute and familiar that the thought alone makes you unravel a little, your whines muted by the glass.

He makes you come like that, stuck between his warmth and the cold, the two contrasts keeping you suspended as you seize up around him. He grunts at the feeling, hips sloppy, losing their rhythm until he clenches up, growling your name into your neck as he tips over the edge after you.

For a few moments, you remain melded together, panting in time. Seungcheol makes no rush of peeling himself away from you. Instead, he’s content to mouth at your shoulder and neck, running his nose along your throat. You squirm and laugh, ticklish.

Grinning, he does it again, nuzzling into you and making you laugh, sound echoing in the shower. “Seungcheol!”

“It’s cute.”

“Come on,” you urge. “You said you’d wash my hair.”

He steals a kiss. “Alright, alright. Pass me the shampoo.”

DAY FIFTY SEVEN

“Who is that?” Seungcheol asks, jerking his head toward the bar. You turn and follow his gaze to see Seokmin standing at the bar, ordering drinks. “Never seen him before.”

“Jealous?” You tease, leaning forward and batting your eyelashes at him. Seokmin is just a coworker, but it doesn’t mean you can’t poke Seungcheol a little. Except Seungcheol doesn’t laugh, leveling you with a stare, lips turning downward. “Wait, you actually are.”

“Don’t push it. It was just a question.”

“We work together,” you clarify, immediately turning off the charm when you recognize he’s not amused. “Actually I think he sort of has a thing for Vin, which is why he’s here.”

Seungcheol hums, sipping his beer and looking away from you. Licking your lips, you reach out a hand and touch his gently, bringing his dark eyes back to you. He looks serious - more serious than you’ve ever seen him, face blank, eyes unreadable.

“I mean it.” You squeeze his hand, trying to comfort him. “We’re just friends.”

“Alright.”

“I feel like you’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

You shrug, struggling to articulate. He still has that expression you can’t read, something stark and closed off. “Just seems like it.”

He shakes his head again, but you don’t think he’s telling the truth, watching the way his eyes shift to watch Seokmin approach. “Just tired, I think I might head out.”

Panic grips you and you say the first thing you can think of, throwing caution to the wind. “Want to come over?”

That gives him pause. He studies you. You feel a tightness in your throat under his scrutiny. His mouth twitches and he nods. “Alright,” he says softly. “If you want me to.”

“I do.” You squeeze his hand again. “Really.”

DAY SEVENTY EIGHT

“Want to do me a huge favor?”

You look up from your spot on your couch. Seungcheol is in your kitchen, using his hip to close the door to the fridge. He lifts the lid on the package of grapes, plastic cracking loudly as he does. Leaning against the counter, he pops one into his mouth, crunching happily.

“Besides giving you my grapes?” you ask, deadpan. He grins around them shrugging happily as he eats another. You roll your eyes, turning back to the laptop carefully balanced on your knee. “What’s the favor?”

“We have this giant New Years Eve party at work in two weeks and I need a date.”

That gives you pause. You stare at the computer screen but you can’t make out anything on the screen. You don’t dare to turn and look at Seungcheol, fearful that the feelings his question brings out will be right on the surface of your expression.

Date. It’s a scary word. You and Seungcheol sort of go on dates all the time, but they’re not really dates. At least, not from your perspective. If you were to ask Jeonghan, he would launch into another lecture that you should just put a goddamn title on this thing. Vin happily agrees, both of them hammering you on calling the thing between you and Seuncheol what it is.

But it’s friends with benefits. Friends go out to eat meals together and go shopping together - they hangout. The benefits are the sex. It’s the pressing you against your mattress as he maps your body with his mouth, it’s the way you sink to your knees for him after he’s had a bad day at work, taking him into the heat of your mouth to make him forget.

So yes, you’ve gone places together alone and as a friend date. But somehow this feels different, and you don’t think it’s supposed to.

Carefully, you ask, “Your date, huh?”

“Mhmm. Free drinks and apps, and it’s at the top of that fancy new hotel. We can stay the night so we don’t have to pay for an expensive as fuck Uber”

Not for the first time, you find yourself unsure where the line is with Seungcheol. You’ve agreed multiple times that this is just casual, a shared benefit between friends. And yet every time you feel confident in what you are, the line blurs.

You’re as guilty as he is, you know. On more than one occasion you’re the one who has crossed the line, messing up the clear boundary the two of you have had in place for weeks. Somehow, you both manage to be utterly terrible at casual, but you’re too afraid to say something about it. Too afraid to ruin it.

“I suppose I can be convinced.”

“Oh? What can I do to convince you?”

You look up as his tone turns to velvet, that voice he uses when he’s coaxing you into his lap, or when he’s-

“It’s really hard to be sexy when there’s grape juice running down your chin, Cheol.”

He pouts, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the lower half of his face as you laugh. He’s cute, pink lips downturned and eyes round as he sulks. “Don’t make fun of me. Just say yes to being my date.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go.”

His grin is burnished gold, the sun breaking for first light over the horizon. “Thank you.”

“Mhmm.” He crunches into another grape and you scowl. “Stop eating all my fucking grapes!”

DAY NINETY TWO

“Holy shit,” Seungcheol mutters when you step out of the hotel bedroom. He feels his heart start to pound in his chest from where he stands in the kitchenette, fingers squeezing the glass of whiskey he poured himself earlier. “You look unreal.”

And you do. You always do. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when Jeonghan and Joshua introduced the two of you that first night at that shitty bar you like to go to on Fridays. The real kicker had been your personality, though. Warm, kind, quick wit. A bit of a history nerd, which is his favorite thing.

Honestly, he loves a lot of things about you. He knows that he has to do something about that. Knows that this stopped being casual a long time ago. Seungcheol has no problem with casual hookups and keeping people in a rotation, but when it comes to you… he just wants you.

It’s like he has no idea how to keep his distance, how to keep his feelings out of it. He doesn’t mind, but he needs to figure out how to tell you. How to take that next step and move you from friends to more - if that’s what you want, anyway.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you say back neutrally. He can see the way your eyes linger on him though, your gaze betraying the calmness of your voice, as always.

You don’t get it, though. Seungcheol cannot keep his eyes off you, dragging them from top to bottom. The black dress is snug on your frame, his eyes tracing the swells of your breasts, the dip of your hips, the curve of your ass and thighs.

Dragging his eyes back up, he meets your gaze. That is one of his favorite things. Your eyes, full of light and depth and thoughts that he always wants to fall into. There is so much simmering under the surface that you don’t say and he’s never asked.

He wants to.

Knocking back the rest of his drink, Seungcheol leaves the glass on the counter and walks over to you. You shift from foot to foot, eyes darting up to examine the ceiling. He smirks, feeling the nerves radiating from you as he approaches.

When he reaches out, you don’t step away from him. You let him skim his hands up your sides, going until he’s running them over your shoulders and on either side of your neck so he can cradle your face. He turns your gaze back to him and you stare up at him through your lashes.

He was a goner on day one. How ridiculous to think he’s not just made this real, told you how he doesn’t want a single thing to be casual and superficial between you.

Instead of stealing a searing kiss and pushing you back into the bedroom like he wants to, Seungcheol presses a short kiss to the corner of your mouth. He’s too afraid that if he starts something that you won’t make it downstairs.

Now isn’t the time for that, though. There’s a party upstairs and free drinks and he wants to spend time with his friends. Spend time with you.

The Seungcheol that existed before you is a stranger to him. He barely remembers what it was like to have people he wasn’t genuinely interested in, what it was like to show up alone at parties and take someone home. Hardly recalls pushing people away when they wanted too much.

All it took was meeting you.

“Come on,” he urges gently, leading you from the room and to the elevator.

Seungcheol slides his phone from his pocket in the elevator. You press close against him, your arm brushing against his as it fills up with people. He notes where Wonwoo tells him to meet and puts his phone back in his pocket, leaning into you a little.

You let him, making his mouth twitch upward. You always let him do what he wants, and when you don’t, an easy pout gets his way. He’s wrapped around your finger, too. He doesn’t know if you realize it, but he would give you anything you wanted without a moment's hesitation.

When the elevator doors open, Seungcheol takes your hand. You let him pull you into the party teeming with people, the sound of music swelling over the dull roar of the crowd. You stick closer to him, fingers squeezing him tightly as the pair of you walk toward the check-in table.

“This is beautiful,” you murmur to him.

His first instinct is to look at you because you are beautiful. You’re not looking at him, your neck craned to sweep over the party. He smiles at you, watching the glow of your side profile, eyes wide with wonder.

Dragging his eyes from your face, he glances around the party. It is gorgeous, with views of the entire city glittering beneath the building like a bed of stars, shimmering decorations reflecting the golden lights, a giant clock to show the time, and massive flower arrangements.

“It’s nice,” he agrees, shuffling to the table where he gives his name. “Choi Seungcheol.”

“Perfect, thanks.” The person working the table peels two wristbands and gestures for you both to hold out your wrists. You let go of his hand to do so, letting the attendant wrap your arm in a blue band. “Have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Choi.”

Both of you blink in surprise. You open and close your mouth as if you’re unsure how to correct them and Seungcheol laughs, shrugging as he takes your hand and leads you out of the line and into the party proper this time.

“This way, wifey.”

You roll your eyes but grin anyway, looping your arm through his offered one and tugging him close. He’s satisfied, leading you through the tight crowd of people toward the south bar that Wonwoo had said their friends were waiting at.

Joshua spots you and waves you both over, making room at the bar for you to join. Jeonghan’s eyes flick to where your arm is looped through Seungcheol to Seungcheol himself, raising a brow. Seungcheol glares at him, urging him to shut up and Jeonghan grins, turning to order drinks at the bar.

Wonwoo claps Seungcheol on the back in greeting before kissing you on both cheeks and letting you sit on the only barstool available. Seungcheol moves with you pressed to your back as he leans an elbow on the bar, keeping you close. You lean into him, earning a shy smile that he tries to hide behind the rim of the champagne glass that Jeonghan hands him.

He likes this. He likes being with his friends. He likes the way you laugh and lean back further into him when you do. He likes that his friends don’t bother the two of you about being attached at the hip. And he likes the way your face lights up every time he jokingly calls you wifey.

Seungcheol wants this.

He doesn’t recall the last time he wanted a relationship the way he wants with you. It doesn’t matter anyway. Everything before you is gone and forgotten, and what matters now are the things that are post-meeting-you.

Plied with lots of champagne and your laughter, Seungcheol lets you drag him onto the dance floor, wrapping your arms around him as he spins you. He doesn’t know what has him more drunk, the alcohol or you. He thinks it might be you.

The DJ announces that it’s one minute until midnight, making Seungcheol spin and look up at the clock. The partygoers cheer, clustering together to press toward the clock to count down. Seungcheol wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you close in the tight crowd.

His heart flutters as he watches the numbers countdown, realizing he gets to kiss you at midnight. He’s kissed you over a hundred times by now, but the prospect makes him giddy. His heart races as the numbers drop and he looks at you from the corner of your eye.

You’re watching the clock, uncontrolled happiness on your face as you yell with the rest of the crowd, counting each number as it passes by.

When the clock strikes midnight, you peer up at him, suddenly unsure. He can’t believe you don’t see it, that you’d doubt for one second that he wants you to be his first kiss of the year. His heart seizes, dipping down with a smile to press his lips to yours.

Your mouth is warm and champagne-sweet, making him groan in the back of his throat. Your fingers cling to his hip, holding him by the waist as he slips a hand up to the back of your neck to hold you in place, deepening the kiss.

When you pull your mouth away, he makes up his mind. Fuck everything he said about keeping it casual - he doesn’t want to go another minute without you knowing what he wants.

DAY NINETY THREE

“Be my girlfriend.”

The words that come from Seungcheol’s lips catch you off guard. A giggle bursts to your lips and you lean back, trying to examine him from a little farther away. You feel the glitter of champagne in your veins and the same buzz that comes with being near Seungcheol, wondering if maybe he’s had too much to drink.

“What?” you ask, examining his face. He’s flushed, lips pink and smiling, but his eyes are dark and serious.

“Be my girlfriend,” he says again, this time quieter. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath fans your face, warm and sweetened by champagne. “I know we agreed to be casual so if you don’t want more, that’s fine. But there is nothing casual about the way I feel about you.”

Heart thundering, you laugh and cling to him a little tighter. He nudges you with his head, as though asking what’s so funny. You don’t know how to put into words that you’ve wanted to be not casual for a long time, that you are dizzy with the prospect of being something more, that he’s just made the first minute of your year perfect.

Instead of trying to string together the words to tell him, you kiss him. His mouth turns upward, letting you press your palms to the sides of his face, holding him to your lips. There’s no one else but just the two of you, entirely in your own bubble on the rooftop.

Relief mixed with euphoria floods your system. It’s a weight lifted off your shoulders, realizing that you’re not crazy, that nothing you feel about Seungcheol is casual and that’s okay. That he feels it too.

Your fingers slide into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling slightly. He groans, separating your mouths to peer down at you, his lashes fanning when he blinks, dazed.

“Don’t do that,” he whispers. “This is a work party. I’ll fold right here.”

“So take me somewhere that isn’t here and fold.”

His gummy smile is blinding, your heart soaring. “Alright, wifey.”

“Gonna need a ring pop at a minimum if you’re gonna keep saying that shit.”

He links your fingers together, stepping away from you. He tugs you after him and you follow. “Deal. What flavor?”

“Strawberry. I kind of want to suck something else right now, though.”

Seungcheol groans and you laugh, loving the way he visibly struggles as your words land. He walks faster, a new pep in his step as you make your way toward the elevator. He shouts Wonwoo’s name as he goes, waving his hand to tell him that you’re leaving.

Wonwoo’s grin is all-knowing as he throws two thumbs up, cheering happily. You tingle with a little bit of embarrassment, scurrying toward the closing elevator door to catch it. It opens again and you both slip inside, alone and buzzing from the party and your newfound status.

The door closes and Seungcheol pushes in close. You press against the wall, looking up at his sharp grin, his nose nudging yours. His lips are almost on yours, the heat of them against your mouth making you dizzy and the heavy weight of his body against yours making your thoughts sticky.

“Gonna suck something else, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

“Wanna do it right here in the elevator?”

“Huh?”

He bursts into laughter at your wide gaze, tapping the underside of your chin with his knuckle in jest. “I’m kidding. Unless…”

You shove him away and he starts laughing again, bending over with the force of it. You can’t be annoyed by his teasing, loving the way his eyes crease at the corner and how he laughs with the full force of his body.

“You’re so annoying.”

“You should have seen your face, though.”

“I mean I’ll do it right now, if you want.”

His smile drops and he opens his mouth a little, shocked. “Wait, really?”

“No, but you should have seen your face.”

The elevator arriving at the appropriate floor saves him from answering. He scowls at you and you giggle, grabbing him and pushing him into the hall and toward your room. He turns on his heel, falling into step with you and fishing the room key out of his pocket.

It’s cold in the room when you enter. Seungcheol had booked a one bedroom suite with a small living room and kitchenette. It was more than what you needed for the night, but it feels nice, like your own private getaway.

Taking you by the hand, he walks backward toward the bedroom, pulling you along. His smile is beautiful and you wear a matching one. A thrill shoots through you when you realize that Seungcheol is yours. Really yours.

Sitting on the bed, he pulls you into his lap. Your knees sink in the mattress on either side of his hips, ass resting on his thighs. Leaning over him, you link your hands behind the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the silky hair there.

Seungcheol tilts his face up toward you, eyes fluttering as you play with his hair. His arms loop around your waist, squeezing you.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi.”

Leaning down, you slot your mouth against his. He tastes like champagne, mouth warm. Kissing him takes your breath away, thoughts guttering out as he licks into your mouth hungrily. You lose yourself in the feeling of him, feeling like you’re on fire.

Seungcheol falls backward on the bed. His lips are swollen and pink, eyes heavy-lidded as he stares up at you. He reaches for you but you give him a coy smile and slip from his lap, crouching to the floor and running your hands along his thighs, feeling them flex beneath your touch.

You love Seungcheol’s thighs. Your nails drag across the fabric and he lets out a breathy sound. His muscles twitch as you reach to brush your fingers over his zipper, making sure to press into his cock. His hips jerk upward at the barest hint of stimulation and you grin.

“It’s no elevator,” you tease. “But will this do?”

“Fucking anywhere will do.”

Seungcheol has always been sensitive. He’s easy to rile, cock already firm by the time you’re undoing his belt and he’s helping you pull his dress pants down his thighs. You eye the dark patch in his briefs, proud that with just a little bit of kissing and some light touching he’s already leaking at the tip.

Sitting high on your knees, you lean forward, tongue pressing wetly to the tip of his cock through the fabric. A hand shoots to the back of your head, his fingers gripping you firmly as you laugh, tongue still pressed to him and soaking through his briefs.

“Don’t you dare tease me tonight,” he warns, voice shaky. “That is not wifey behavior.”

You remove your tongue, pouting and moving to press a kiss to his thigh. “You never let me tease you.”

“I’m not patient.” Your teeth scrape the softness of his flesh and his legs twitch, knees knocking your shoulder. “Baby, I am so serious.”

Biting your bottom lip to hide a smile, you give in. You know with certainty he’d let you drag this out if you really wanted to. Seungcheol is impatient and greedy and demanding, but he also lets you do what you want when it comes down to it.

Instead of testing his grace, you peel his briefs down, freeing his cock. Your mouth waters at his thick length, your hand automatically reaching up to grab him. You swipe your thumb through the precum gathered, using it to slide down the full length of his shaft.

Seungcheol’s hips buck. You grip him properly, working him slowly as you shuffle closer on your knees. They already hurt, hotel carpet digging into them but you ignore it in favor of watching the way his fingers slowly undo the button of his shirt, needing to shuck the fabric off.

“You’re pretty,” you note absently. His stomach flexes when he sits up to slide his shirt off of his shoulders. He looks down at you, pupils dilated. “Very, very pretty.”

“You’re a work of art yourself.”

Instead of laying back down flat, he leans back on his palms, letting his head fall back. Seungcheol shuts his eyes, face tilted up at the ceiling as though in prayer. “Feels good.”

Humming happily, you lean forward and slowly run the flat of your tongue up the base of his shaft. That draws a low moan out of him, his chest rising and falling as he pants. You’re fascinated by his reactions, watching his face and body language carefully as you swirl your tongue around the crown of his cock.

He’s responsive, fingers digging into the sheets in an effort not to grab your head and take control. He’s testing his patience, letting you bring him into the wet heat of your mouth at your pace, sucking lazily.

“Fuck,” he groans. You hum around him and he shakes his head, shivering. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Good you think, setting a proper place as you swallow him down, letting your spit pool to help make the glide easier. It’s messy and wet, just the way Seungcheol likes it, his moans backtracking the slick sounds coming from your mouth.

What you can’t fit in your mouth properly, you cover with your hand, squeezing periodically as you stroke upward, meeting your stretched lips.

“God,” Seungcheol whispers. “You know how to suck cock.”

Pulling off of him with a wet pop, you grin, feeling the sting in your mouth from the stretch. Your lips are cum and spit-slicked, sticky as you continue to stroke him.

“Thanks,” you laugh. “I heard I’m wifey material.”

“Fucking, shit, yeah a little bit. Fuckkkk, mouth please.”

You comply, sucking him back into your mouth. He’s putty underneath you, hips twitching off the bed a little as soft sounds drip from his mouth. You watch, totally hypnotized by the way he moved, the way his hairline gets a little sweaty as he nods, encouraging you.

Biting his lip, he lifts a hand from the bed to grab at you, pulling you off of him. “Come here,” he growls, opening his.

Seungcheol pulls you to him, not caring that your mouth is a mess. His tongue delves in, exploring the mixed taste of champagne and precum, hands pulling at your dress to peel it off of you.

“Let me sit against the headboard,” he pants, breaking the kiss to scoot backward. You peel your underwear off and toss them, following him across the mattress as he settles. He pats his lap and reaches for you. “Come here, baby.”

You settle into his lap again, mouth melding to his. His hands explore you, gripping your ass, squeezing your waist, running up your front to pinch at your nipples. You moan into his mouth, carding your fingers in his hair and pulling at the stimulation, your head tilting back a little.

He takes the opportunity to attach his lips to your throat, biting sharply and soothing the sting with his tongue. Sinking a little lower, you feel your pussy brush against his cock and you sigh, gently rolling your hips to slide your sticky folds up his shaft.

Seungcheol groans against you, mouth feverish against your skin. He maps your throat, kissing and biting his way to your chest, where he steals a pert nipple into his mouth to give a harsh suck. You squeal and he grins, plucking at your sensitive bud with his teeth.

Holding onto him, you let him lavish attention to your tits the way he wants, hands squeezing, tongue flicking. It feels good. Aflame, you continue to roll your hips shallowly in his waist, just giving the barest of stimulation to you both.

A hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your swelling clit, pressing against it. You whine loudly, fighting off a violent shiver. He grins where he has your breast in his mouth, sucking generously as he lazily circles your clit with his fingers.

“Cheol,” you whisper-whine. “You said no teasing.”

“I said no teasing me.” His fingers slide backward and dip into your entrance teasingly. You clench around nothing, aching for him to do something. “Flustered, huh?”

“Please give me something.”

He presses his lips against the side of your jaw, grinning. “Fine.” He sinks a single finger into you and you sigh in immediate relief. It isn’t enough but it’s something, your hips rocking to take him in deeper. “Better?”

“I can take more.”

“Of course you can.” He pushes in another finger, the stretch so good. “You’re my girl. You can take what I give you.”

Dropping your head to his shoulder, you nod. You hide your face in his flushed skin, riding his fingers as he slowly slides them home, working you gently. They press against your sensitive spot and you curse, gripping him a little tighter.

Impatient and needing more, you grind yourself forward, fucking his hand properly. He laughs, letting you take what you need, cupping you fully so the heel of his palm grinds into your clit. Your movements are frenzied, driven by the desire for him, the feeling curling inside you.

“Just like that,” he encourages. “Fuck yourself on my fingers just like that.”

You do, thighs aching and body shaking. The sheets stick to your legs as you work yourself up, sweaty palms sliding against Seungcheol’s shoulders. He whispers in your ear, voice low and scratchy, adding to the building mania inside of you.

“Shit,” you hiss, feeling the tightness in your stomach start to boil over.

“Come on, come around my fingers. You got it.”

His gentle voice pushes you over all the way and you clench around his fingers, coming undone. Your hips stop moving and your legs squeeze around his as you seize up. Seungcheol is having none of it, taking the lead to drive his fingers up into you as you flutter around him.

“Oh,” you gasp as he finer fucks you through the rest of your orgasm, sucking at a tender spot on your neck until you’re trembling and a mess. “Okay, okay, okay.”

Seungcheol takes it easy on you, pulling his fingers from between your legs with a slick noise. You heave against him, catching your breath while he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks obnoxiously.

“Mmm.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He smacks your ass and you squeak. “Ride my cock like that?”

Huffing, you extend to your full height on your knees. He grabs the base of his shaft, eyes fixed on the mess between your legs as you sink down slowly. His tip breaches you, both of you letting out a sound as you keep going, holding your breath as he stretches you open.

Seungcheol taps your waist. “Breathe.”

You do, inhaling a breath as you nestle in his lap, seated fully, clenching around him. “Thanks.”

“Mhmm.”

Seungcheol’s hands move up your sides, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. This time, you know the look in his eye is real. His gaze is covetous, looking at you like you’re his because you are.

You catch his hands with yours, linking your finger and squeezing. He smiles, looking up at you with dark locks of hair in his face. You smile back, starting to roll your hips, using his hands to steady yourself.

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. The cool air of the hotel room brushes across your back, making you shiver. The mattress dips under your movement, your thighs flexing to keep your balance steady, Seungcheol’s grip on you helping.

“You’re so perfect,” Seungcheol mutters, using your linked hands to pull you toward him. Your hands slip from him, going to the headboard to help lift you instead. His grip finds your waist, aiding in your movement while his mouth finds your breasts. “God these tits.”

An ache settles in your thighs but you ignore it, chasing an orgasm. You tremble in his hold, breath punching out of you as he mumbles your name, watching you with fucked out eyes and lips parted, like you’re giving him everything he ever wanted.

You kind of feel that way. The way he looks at you isn’t that different from before, but now you’re confident in it, realizing that everything with Seungcheol felt too intimate because it was. Casual was never the right name for it, neither of you having any idea how to really be no strings attached.

“My fucking legs hurt,” you admit, panting. “Can you take over?”

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol surges forward, knocking you backward onto the bed. You laugh, bouncing a little as he pulls out and helps maneuver you. “Turn around for me.”

With shaking arms, you follow his instruction. The sheets cling to you as you roll, making you huff and swat at them. He chuckles, peeling them away from your sweaty skin while you settle on your stomach, arching your ass a little.

He palms your left cheek, groaning and dragging his blunt nails down the curve to your hip where he grabs you. “Unreal,” he whispers, to either you or himself.

You gasp when he thrusts pack in, punching the air from your lungs as he sets a sharp pace. You jostle on the bed, grabbing the sheets and knotting your hands in them to keep you in place, a stream of whimpers leaving you.

A hand slips up your spine, pressing flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down further into the bed. You gasp and nod, Seungcheol taking it as a sign to put more weight into it, angling his hips so he’s fucking down into you.

It’s hard to breathe, the dizziness taking over as your skin starts to turn to static, orgasm so close that you can feel the buzz between your legs. He keeps going like that, pinning you hard to the bed as his hips crash into yours.

His name leaves your mouth in a cry as you squeeze around him, letting loose. He curses, picking up his pace, ignoring the wet squelch as he does, palm pressing you harder into the bed as you come.

You think you might disintegrate, unable to do anything but make broken sounds as he chases his orgasm. Just when you think you might not get another breath, he comes, the pressure on your back lifting a little. You gasp for air, feeling the room tilt as his thrusts slow, becoming gentle.

Seungcheol’s hands are soothing on your back, fingers dancing up and down your spine, delicate. He’s muttering something to you but you can’t hear him, the pounding of your heart far too loud, pulse rattling in your ears.

When his hips are still, his hands keep moving. He leans over you, careful not to put his weight on you, mouth kissing across your shoulders. Your cheek is pressed flat against the sheet as you pant, coming down from a fever pitch.

“You okay if I get up and get you water?” the question is whispered across your cheek, where Seungcheol presses a tender kiss. You nod and he kisses you again before peeling away from you.

Laying in the bed, you drift, listening to him shuffle around to the kitchen. You’re sleepy but more aware now. When the bed dips again, you crack your eye open, watching as he navigates carefully on his knees, two glasses of water in hand.

“Can you sit up or do you need help?” You shake your head and muster the strength you have left to sit up. Your muscles spasm as you do, a groan leaving your mouth as the room spins from the change in perspective. “You okay?”

“Thirsty,” you rasp, reaching for the glass he offers. Gulping down the cool water, you’re aware of his eyes on you, watching you drain the glass as he sips his. “Thank you.”

He takes the empty glass and kisses your lips. “Mhmm. Need more?”

“No, I’m good. I just need to sleep for five hundred years, no big deal.”

“Damn, five hundred goes crazy. Do you think we’ll have flying cars by then?”

Seungcheol puts both glasses on the nightstand and peels back the covers of the bed. He slips under them, patting the spot next to him. You crawl over, limbs heavy and uncoordinated. He laughs at you and you scowl, but manage to clamber in next to him, warm beneath the blankets and tucked into his chest.

“Yes, definitely. And like giant sexy holograms advertising porn, probably.”

“That’s the first thing you think of in the future? Porn?”

“Listen,” you huff, laying your head against his chest and closing your eyes. “I’m still a little champagne buzzed and you just fucked me until I couldn’t breathe for a while. Cut me slack.”

“Sure thing, wifey.”

“Ugh. Is that our thing now?”

“Mhmm. Everything pre-relationship has henceforth been replaced with the relationship-only era. Pretend you have amnesia.”

A huff of laughter leaves you. “Sure thing.”

“I mean I feel like I have amnesia.” You give him a questioning look. He’s contemplative, staring with unseeing eyes as he plays with your fingers. “I had an entire life and habits before you, and I swear it’s like sometimes my memory actually starts with that first night at the bar.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re just around a lot and I like to think it’s always been that way. And I’m kind of sorry for taking so long to admit nothing about this was casual for me.”

You smile. “Wasn’t for me either.”

“Good.” He snuggles into you, settling in silence for a few moments. “Thanks for letting me win pool that first night.”

“I did not let you win that game, oh my god.”

“Just admit it! You wanted to taste my goodies and you let me win.”

“I’m gonna give you some damn amnesia,” you mutter, but grin as he hugs you tight.

“Sure thing, wifey. Sure thing.”

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hcneymooners · 6 months ago

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dad’s best friend ambessa perhaps ..? :3 i love ur age gap fics ur so talented

⋆ come, and be my baby.

dad's best friend!ambessa x f!reader. men & minors dni. synopsis: you've always been a troubled, searching girl. ambessa, your father's long-time best friend, is your self-ordained solution. cw: age difference, older woman/younger woman, reader is implied to be between 22-24, emotional hurt/comfort, dom/sub, dom!ambessa, sub!reader, you're a little bit of a conniving bitch still love you tho, unhealthy relationship dynamics, codependency, slight emotional manipulation, listen you had to lock in, non-sexual intimacy, pleasure dom!ambessa, rough body play, manhandling, pet names, lesbian sex, dildos, vaginal sex, implied penetrative sex, implied strapping, oral fixation (ambessa), praise kink, mommy kink (specifically mama), implied exhibitionism, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, begging, spanking, impact play, face sitting, desk sex, you guys are definitely freaks but you love love love each other.

notes: hi, honey baby. this might be the most erotic questionable thing i've ever written. i hope you're happy with it. i went a little overboard and a bit non-conventional with the trope. i adore you & thank you for requesting, mami.

two things in this world reigned absolute: that you were glad your life would only be lived once, for you couldn't do this again, and that you were ambessa medarda's favorite girl.

the medardas were a family heavy with conflict, and perhaps that's why the matriarch and your father were best friends. they both were volatile people, sometimes prone to cruelty, with soft spots for certain people that were darkened with rot at the edges—perfumed with the sweet notes of their rage.

you were both of their favorites, and therefore, when your parents got divorced, you'd acted through the narrow scope of a confused and aching little girl and chose your father. once you'd shed that naive nature, you traced your way back to your mother in secrecy. you indulged in hushed phone calls in the middle of the night, timing your exits from your room with the fading beat of your father's boots as you left.

every month, she promised to get you.

the glass would fog with your breath as you waited in that tall, flaking phone booth, each passing car's headlights casting long shadows across your face. you memorized every crack in the booth's floor, every water stain on its ceiling, until they became as familiar as your own disappointment.

you wore the same outfit: thick, wool tights in burgundy tucked under the gleaming straps of your mary janes and layered underneath the dark denim of your favorite jeans. you cradled yourself into a black turtleneck, your hair tamed into two plaits that rested against your neck underneath the fabric. your eyes would be wide and searching, one hand gripping the curved handle of your brown leather suitcase and the other shaking around your well-loved copy of prozac nation.

she never came, but you showed up every time.

one night, a maserati did skate up to that ancient meeting spot, and you straightened from where you'd been dozing standing up. an overly tinted window rolled down, and you were met with the strong gaze of ambessa medarda, whom you hadn't seen since your early days. you didn't remember much, just yellow-tinged memories of being spoiled by her and being picked up and tossed into the bright sky above the farm she owned.

she must've moved back.

at first, she said nothing, just cataloged your most recent iteration of your "going with my mother" outfit and worked her jaw. finally, she leaned over and popped open the door before leaning back and letting you make the choice. embarrassed and teetering on the edge of emotional collapse, you slid in and shut down as she pulled away. this was how you met her again. seventeen and sobbing, emotionally wrought and disappointed from all angles. you probably came off unbearably young, dreamy, and unprepared for the challenges of real life.

it was only later that ambessa revealed that her first thought was that you needed a mother, that you needed her. that you were a girl abandoned and fighting your best against the more experienced hands of life.

⋅˚₊‧ 🕯୨୧ 🦪 ‧₊˚ ⋅

from then on you were her newest daughter, until you weren't. you noticed how 'miss' became 'dear' became 'darling,' each new endearment a step closer across the chasm between you. the way she said your name changed too, softening at the edges like butter left in sunlight.

by nineteen, you were practically sequestered to her house by your personal desires, curling at her hip as you grew into yourself. even now at an older age—still far younger than her—you came home from university only to lay all of your belongings in the warm wood of your makeshift bedroom (the guestroom, really). she taught you to appreciate aged whiskey, watching with amusement as you struggled not to grimace at the burn.

"small sips, little one," she'd say, her hand warm against your lower back.

you learned to love the taste, if only because it meant sharing these quiet moments in her study, the leather of her armchair creaking as she leaned forward to pour you another finger's worth.

you and mel even developed a soft friendship that lessened the tension between her and her mother, tall arguments tempered by the agreement that they would not aggravate your ptsd from the divorce days. sometimes you caught mel watching you both with worried eyes, but you'd grown tired of other people's concerns.

you'd rather have this - ambessa's fingers absently playing with your hair as she read reports, the way she automatically ordered your coffee exactly how you liked it, the subtle possessiveness in how she introduced you to her colleagues.

regardless, you knew that you and ambessa's relationship spun on an axis that could be labeled uncomfortably intimate, maybe even imbalanced. for all that everyone said, you couldn't find it in yourself to be concerned. you regarded her as all that you had, something that wouldn't leave.

she indulged you, kissing your forehead when she came in from a day at work or texting you about what replacements you had wanted for certain items on the grocery list. she rarely called you by your name, always coaxing you forward with firm, warm pet names. they were swollen with affection, a doting '(my) sweet girl', 'baby girl', or 'little one.'

your favorite one was invoked from a spontaneous trip to paris to meet an art collector she'd purchased from, only to return bearing handcrafted soaps and a penchant for calling you 'chouchou.' that stopped about two weeks later, but you wrote it down under your list of desired tattoos. what didn't stop was the way she'd buy authentic silken scarves to tie around your neck with careful precision, her fingers brushing against your pulse point in a way that sent you shivering.

the shift was gradual, like watching shadows lengthen at sunset. one evening, as thunder rolled outside and rain lashed against the windows of her study, she pulled you closer than usual. ambessa’s fingers traced patterns on your skin as she read, and when you tilted your head back to look at her, she met your gaze with an intensity that made your breath catch. the thunder cracked again and the peeking champagne of your bra strap slipped down your arm. still, neither of you moved.

the moment was eventually broken by mel’s surprise of coming home for the weekend. you pulled yourself upright, intending to put together a small plate for her. before you could leave, ambessa strolled up behind you and adjusted the strap, so that it was firm and held tight to the delicate bones of your shoulder.

for a moment, you thought you’d felt her lips right beside it.

⋅˚₊‧ 🕯୨୧ 🦪 ‧₊˚ ⋅

"you're not a little girl anymore," she murmured one night, weeks later, her voice carrying the weight of aged whiskey and unspoken promises.

you were curled in your usual spot beside her, but everything felt different - charged with an electricity that made your skin prickle. you couldn't remember when the maternal comfort of her touch had transformed into something more, but you knew there was no going back.

"i haven't been for a while," you replied, your voice steady despite the way your heart hammered against your ribs. her hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet her gaze, and you saw in her eyes the same hunger that had been growing in your own.

your fingers traced the rim of your whiskey glass, ice long since melted. the study had grown dark save for the amber glow of her desk lamp, catching the silver in her hair like moonlight on water.

you'd noticed her watching you more lately, her gaze heavy with something between concern and desire.

"you remind me of her sometimes," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "mel, when she was younger."

the comparison should have stung, but you knew better. you'd learned to read between her lines, to understand the weight she carried. you were not mel's replacement - you were something altogether different, more dangerous.

you set your glass down carefully, the crystal making a soft sound against the carpet.

"i'm not her," you said, voice steady as you rose from your chair. "i won't leave."

the words hung in the air between you, heavy with promise and threat. her laugh was low, throaty.

"no, baby girl. you're nothing like her at all, are you?"

she spoke the endearment deliberately this time, watching how it made you shiver. you'd both been playing this game for months - you with your calculated vulnerability, her with her careful restraint.

you moved to stand behind her chair, hands resting on her shoulders. through the silk of her blouse, you felt her tension, the way she stilled like a prey animal. but ambessa medarda was nobody's prey, and you both knew it.

"i need you," you murmured, the words leaden. you were trying not to sound as crazed as you felt . "and you need someone who needs you."

her hand came up to cover yours, her gold rings dense and cool against your skin.

"you're very clever," she said, something like pride coloring her voice. "i should send you away."

"but you won't." you pressed your lips to her temple, breathing in the scent of her perfume - something expensive and french. mango wood and black rose if you remembered correctly, discovered during your illicit investigations of her bedroom. "because you understand me better than anyone. because we're the same."

she turned then, catching your wrist in a grip that walked the line between gentle and controlling.

"the same?" her thumb pressed against your pulse point, counting out the rhythm of your wanting. "you're barely older than my daughter."

"age is just a number," you said, and then laughed at how young it made you sound. "no—that's not what i mean. what i mean is that we both know what we want. we both know how to take it."

the silence stretched between you like spun sugar, delicate and sweet. outside, leaves skittered across the gravel drive, and somewhere in the house, a clock chimed eleven. you watched emotions play across her face - desire, concern, resignation, hunger.

"if we do this," she said finally, her voice rough like aged bourbon, "there's no going back. no playing innocent. no running away when it gets hard."

you smiled, all teeth and triumph poorly disguised as submission.

"i told you," you said, sinking to your knees beside her chair, resting your head against her thigh like you had a hundred times before - but different now, charged with intent. "i'm not going anywhere."

her hand found your hair, nails scraping gently against your scalp.

"my clever, terrible girl," she murmured, and you could hear in her voice that she'd surrendered to this animal between you. "what am i going to do with you?"

you turned your face into her touch, lips brushing against her wrist where her heart copied yours, beat for beat.

"keep me," you said simply. "just keep me."

the study grew quieter still, the only sound was your shared breathing and the distant whisper of wind through bare branches. you'd won, you knew, but then you'd been winning since that first night in the maserati, since you'd looked at her with calculated tears and let her save you. you loved her - truly, deeply, with all the fierce possession of your young heart - but you'd learned from your mother's absence that love wasn't enough. you had to learn how to hold on to what you wanted.

and oh, how you wanted this - wanted her, with her silver-streaked hair and elegant hands and eyes that saw right through you and wanted you anyway.

her fingers tightened in your hair, and you looked up to find her watching you with an expression that made your breath catch. the lamp clicked off, and in the sudden darkness, you felt rather than saw her move. her hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

"stand up," she commanded softly, and you did, letting her guide you until you were perched on the edge of her desk. the wood was cool against your thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat of her body as she stepped between your knees. "are you sure about this?"

your answer was to reach for her, fingers curling into the cotton of her blouse.

"i've never been more sure of anything."

the clock struck quarter past, and the last autumn leaves rattled against the window as she leaned down to kiss you, tasting of whiskey and an affection hard won.

you kissed back lazily, squeezing your thighs together as one of her hands came to direct you by the base of your neck. she slotted the two of you together, lips sliding and grasping at each other between soft inserts of tongue. your teeth seemed to buzz with unnamable energy as she leaned forwards, hands bracing around you, so close to cupping your ass.

you needed her touch, needed to know whether your fantasies had been well-conjured or only pathetic in their imaginings. you’d spent nights tucking your fingers into yourself, trembling quietly as you pictured the shape of her mouth and how it would fit over you.

as if reading your mind, ambessa firmly spread your legs apart with a forceful hand and came closer to you. you let out a weak moan as her teeth scraped your neck, a hand coming to press down on your stomach as if to see how much space she had to fill.

you were so immensely grateful for the flimsy structure of your sleep shorts, the fabric tugged easily down your legs by only one of her fingers. she used that same finger to feel out the shape of your clothed cunt, her throat trembling with a low sound of satisfaction.

you were wet and desperate, wrapping an arm around her broad shoulders so that you could grind against what was now two fingers.

ambessa moved your panties aside with no great effort, sliding a finger into your tight heat. gradually, she built a rhythm inside of you until you were bucking where she held you. after a minute, she slid it out and into her mouth.

“mmm,” she said consideringly. “my babygirl is so sweet for me.”

you’d swallow a boat of fucking blackberries if you had to, choke them down despite your allergies and sealing throat if that meant she’d taste you again.

“ambessa.

she laughed and you saw her eyes glittering in the dark, the light brown so bright with want they seemed gold. it was then you realized you’d never said her first name alone before, and she must’ve realized as well because her hand suddenly clenched around your throat.

“do you remember when you turned twenty and got drunk with those miscreants from the town over?” your mouth twitched at her avid disgust. she could be quite classist. you’d work on that. “you don’t because you practically drank your body weight, but i do. do you want to know why?”

you gasped out a ‘yes’ as she used her free hand to grope the peach of your ass before switching to thumbing at your pebbled nipples.

“i remember that birthday because you stumbled into my room and climbed into bed with me.” you felt dread rising. “you bumped against my back, like a little bunny, and worked yourself into quite the state. and the whole time you kept apologizing. you were saying ‘sorry, mama’, all slurred and saccharine, over and over till you finished.”

you were so hot with shame you could’ve set the house burning. she smiled, slow and teasing, as she pinched your nipple hard. you let out a high moan.

“i liked that.”

you were squirming now, two of her massive fingers back to stretch your pussy.

“i liked it very much. i had to make sure not to wake you as i fucked myself.”

your eyes widened, like two coins, as the words registered. ambessa laughed again and lowered to her knees, yanking you forward so your ass hung off the edge of the desk. she was still tall enough to tower over you, shadowing the sopping mess of your cunt.

with an annoyed roll of her eyes, she pulled her fingers away and reached behind you, returning with a pair of scissors. with two efficient cuts, your panties were hanging in tatters around your hips. your pussy was exposed in all of its pink glory and it pulled apart with a soft squelch as she pushed your thighs up and out, guiding your hands to hold them for her.

she tugged a hair tie from around her wrist, drawing her gray mass of curls into a loose bun. several strands fell around her face, but she only pushed them impatiently behind her ears. you slapped your hand around blindly, eventually flicking on the bright desk lamp.

“i want you to see me,” you breathed, and she cupped your cheek.

“i’ve always seen you.”

and with that, she went down. she started with a long, luxurious lick up your cunt, her lips suckling around your clit as she reached the top. you moaned loudly and dropped your hands from your thighs, raising them to tug and pinch at your tits. she kept your legs open by sliding the bulk of her back between them, sliding back down to lap at your hole.

for someone as rigid as ambessa could be, she was messy when eating you. she didn’t care to savor, not right now. she’d wanted you for what felt like forever, and you wanted to black out beneath her.

she further spread you open, thrusting her tongue into your heat and feeling you clench. back and forth she went, slobbering over the pink of you until you were tearing up. she suctioned her mouth over one of your lips, large and gleaming, pulling away so that it slid from her mouth with a wet extended ‘pop!’. you clutched at her head, rocking yourself into her unforgiving hold. she blew gently over your hole, watched as it fluttered.

“mama, please.”

tenderly, she grazed her teeth over your clit, soothing the sting with her tongue as she sank three fingers inside of you. ambessa fucked you hard and fast, your tits bouncing as you whimpered with a hand over your mouth. a hand came down like thunder on your ass, the crack hard and hot. you wailed and clutched at her, begging her to go faster, to mark you, to swallow you whole.

“there you are, baby girl. tell me what you need.”

“mama, wait—” you shuddered around her crooked fingers, the world turning white as your head grew hazy. “wait. mama.”

“hmm?”

you scrambled at her, pushing her until there was enough space to slide from where you’d settled at her wrist. wobbling, you turned on your hands and knees, pushing your ass up into her face and falling into a brutal arch.

“like this please.”

“anything for my girl,” ambessa said and you shook because you couldn’t see her face but you could feel her voice.

her fingers dove back into you, her mouth joining the effort. you were floating, only briefly aware of the consistent slaps to your ass through the pain ricocheting pleasantly through you. you pushed back, fucking yourself the way you wanted. she let you, steadying you when you began to lose rhythm.

“bessa, i can’t—i can’t see you,” you slurred and she hummed into your weeping pussy.

your stomach grew tighter and tighter, the world narrowing down to the way she slurped and worked into your cunt. you gripped the opposite edge of the desk, extending yourself as your orgasm began to boil over. quickly, ambessa swung herself under you and brought you down on her face. her arms flexed around your stomach, the corded muscle circling you as she moaned into your cunt.

the vibrations set you off. you felt like you were flying, like you were fucking free.

“oh shit, mama. fuuuuckkkk.”

your voice was unrecognizable to yourself, cracking and raspy. time stretched and winded. you knew your legs were shaking, that you’d squirted over her and yourself.

you didn’t know how, but ambessa was undressed now and rearranging you like a doll. you were back up on your knees, but she was draped over you with her heavy tits branding your skin with their warmth and weight. her hair was down and around you; it smelled like her shampoo, a curtain of coconut and cinnamon.

she bumped her hips against you, caught the silicone tip of a dildo again and again against your loose hole. you turned your head and opened your mouth like a baby bird so she could spit into it, stuff her fingers in.

she began to break into you, bullying your cunt into accepting her cock. you did what you always did. you pushed back and let her in.

you only ever gave her what she needed.

⋅˚₊‧ 🕯୨୧ 🦪 ‧₊˚ ⋅

morning light filtered through dense curtains, casting the bedroom in baby pink. you watched your rings catch the light as you stretched - the marquise diamond throwing prisms across egyptian cotton sheets, your simple gold band warm from sleep.

you'd chosen them together - ambessa insisting on the marquise cut for the engagement ring (something as unique as you, sweet girl) while you'd wanted the classic simplicity of the wedding band, a quiet echo of forever.

the bedroom remained your favorite place - all cream linens and dark wood, familiar as breathing. in the mornings, you could pretend time stood still, pressing chapped kisses against her strong bare arms in the quiet before the day began. sometimes you climbed on top of her, sunk as far as you could into the broad helm of her body.

despite the passing years, she remained your most fortified sanctuary.

"baby girl?" ambessa's voice carried from the en-suite, still commanding even wrapped in morning softness.

you could hear the water running; a bath being drawn.

“coming, mama.”

© hcneymooners. ⚚ special taglist: @sugrcookiiee @icespiceluva @16novvs @tnash-tammy @dyk3miffy @iwasholic @absandsevikasgirl @blackdykegirlblogger @fortluocha @neganwifey25-blog @rottngrl3 just pop me a message or comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

#ambessa x you #ambessa x reader #ambessa x y/n #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #ambessa league of legends #wlw smut #lesbian #sapphic #arcane fanfic #arcane smut #arcane x reader #wlw #mine ; 🐎.#female!reader #fem!reader #ambessa smut

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moonlightwritingf1 · 2 months ago

Text

A Night In Monaco | LN4 and OP81

°ᡣ𐭩 . ° . summary ━━━━━━━ In Lando’s Monaco apartment, Y/N takes full control during a first-time threesome with Lando and Oscar. She dominates them both, making them whimper as they submit to her every command. Neither man touches her without permission—she decides who gets what, and when. By the end, they’re wrecked and breathless, completely hers.

°ᡣ𐭩 . ° . pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader, Oscar Piastri x she!reader

°ᡣ𐭩 . ° . word count ━━━━━━━ 10.3k

°ᡣ𐭩 . ° . warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, creampie, oral sex (f and m receiving), double creampie, breast play, nipple play, fem!dom, sub!Lando, sub!Oscar, threesome, multiple orgasms, cum eating, cockhold

Based on this request.

The room was warm, the kind of warmth that came from tension rather than the Monaco sun outside. Y/N sat on the edge of the sofa, her legs crossed, the stem of her wine glass twirling lazily between her fingers. Lando was beside her, his body angled toward her in a way that suggested he wasn’t entirely focused on the conversation. His eyes lingered on her lips every time she spoke, and his fingers tapped against the can of Monster in his hand like he was trying to distract himself from something.

“You’re quiet,” she said, her voice low and deliberate, her accent softening the words just enough to make them sound like honey dripping from her lips. She tilted her head, her dark eyes catching his. “Something on your mind?”

Lando leaned back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re on my mind,” he replied, his voice just as deliberate as hers. He wasn’t hiding it anymore—the way he looked at her, the way his body seemed to gravitate toward hers. It was almost embarrassing, the way she could reduce him to this. But he didn’t care. Not when she was this close, not when she smelled like vanilla and something earthy, something that made his chest tighten every time he inhaled.

Y/N laughed softly, the sound low and throaty, and leaned back too, her eyes never leaving his. “Careful, Lando,” she teased, her voice laced with amusement. “You’re starting to sound like a man who’s about to make a mistake.”

Before he could respond, the doorbell rang, sharp and insistent, cutting through the thick air between them. Lando frowned, glancing toward the door. “Who the hell is that?” he muttered, but Y/N was already smirking again, like she knew something he didn’t.

Oscar stood in the doorway, his hand still hovering by the doorbell, his other hand clutching a small bag. He looked… uncomfortable. Like he’d walked into something he wasn’t supposed to see. Lando’s eyes narrowed, but Y/N was already on her feet, her movements slow and deliberate, like she was savoring every second of this.

“Osc,” she said, her voice warm and inviting, the kind of tone that made it impossible to say no. “Come in. You’re just in time.”

Oscar hesitated, his eyes darting between Lando and Y/N. “I can come back,” he said quickly, taking a step back as if he was preparing to bolt.

Y/N stepped forward, closing the distance between them with a grace that made both men’s breath catch. “Or,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “you can stay. But only if you stop pretending you don’t want to watch.”

Oscar’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. But then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible motion, and stepped inside.

–

The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/N returned to the sofa, her movements slow, like she had all the time in the world. She picked up her wine glass, took a slow sip, and then set it down with deliberate precision. Her eyes flicked from Lando to Oscar, and then back again, a smirk playing on her lips.

“So,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “Who’s going to make the first move?”

Neither man spoke. Lando’s jaw tightened, and Oscar looked like he was trying to disappear into the couch. Y/N laughed softly, the sound like velvet, and leaned back, her legs uncrossing slightly. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she was enjoying every second of it.

“You two are adorable,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “But I’m not going to wait forever.”

Lando was the first to move. He leaned forward, his eyes locked on hers, and she could see the hunger in them, the way he was barely holding himself back. “What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, his voice rough, like he was already half-lost in her.

She smirked, her eyes flicking to Oscar for just a moment before returning to Lando. “What do I want?” she repeated, her voice low and teasing. “I want you to stop pretending you don’t want me. Both of you.”

Oscar’s breath hitched, and Lando’s eyes darkened. Y/N leaned forward, her arms resting on her knees, her face inches from Lando’s. “Well?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Are you going to make me wait?”

Lando didn’t hesitate. He reached for her, his hand tangling in her hair, and pulled her into a kiss that was anything but gentle. Y/N responded immediately, her lips parting beneath his, her hands gripping the front of his shirt to pull him closer. It was messy and desperate, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt about what he wanted.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N saw Oscar shift uncomfortably, his eyes fixed on them like he couldn’t look away. She pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss, and looked at him over Lando’s shoulder. “Your turn,” she said, her voice breathless but still teasing.

Oscar froze, his eyes wide, like he hadn’t expected her to call him out like that. But then he nodded, his movements slow and deliberate, and leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was softer, more tentative, but no less heated.

Y/N pulled back again, her eyes flicking between the two of them, and smirked. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” she said, her voice low and teasing. She leaned back, her arms resting on the back of the couch, and looked at them both with a challenge in her eyes. “So, what’s next?”

The room was thick with anticipation, the kind that made the air feel heavy and charged, like the calm before a storm. Y/N sat back on the sofa, her legs spread just enough to be teasing, her dress riding up her thighs. She looked at Lando and then at Oscar, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and dominance. Neither man moved, their breathing shallow, their gazes locked on her like she was the only thing in the room worth looking at.

“Well?” she said, her voice low and smooth, like velvet laced with fire. “Who’s going to make the first move?”

Lando swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the can of Monster he’d been nursing. Oscar shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting from her to Lando and back again, like he was trying to figure out if this was some kind of trap. Y/N smirked, leaning back against the cushions, her arms stretching out lazily.

“If you’re waiting for me to beg,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement, “you’re going to be waiting a very long time.”

Lando was the first to break. He set the can down on the coffee table with a soft clink, his eyes never leaving hers. He moved slowly, deliberately, like he was testing the waters, and knelt in front of her. Oscar stayed where he was, frozen, his hands gripping the edge of the couch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Y/N reached down, her fingers tangling in Lando’s curls as she tilted his face up to meet hers. “Good boy,” she purred, her voice low and husky. “Now, where were we?”

Her other hand slid slowly up her thigh, the hem of her dress inching higher until it was bunched around her hips. Lando’s breath hitched, his hands gripping the edge of the sofa like he was trying to keep himself from touching her. Oscar’s eyes widened, his cheeks flushing as he watched, unable to look away. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“No touching yourselves,” Y/N said, her voice firm but soft, like she was giving an order she knew they wouldn’t dare disobey. “No fucking. Just your mouths. Make me come first, then maybe I’ll let you have more.”

Lando’s eyes darkened at her words, his lips parting slightly as he leaned in, his breath hot against her inner thigh. Y/N’s fingers tightened in his hair, guiding him closer, and when his mouth finally met her, she let out a soft sigh that made Oscar’s entire body tense.

She glanced over at him, her lips curling into a smirk. “What about you, Oscar? You just going to sit there and watch, or are you going to join in?”

Oscar hesitated, his eyes darting between her and Lando, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to move. Y/N snapped her fingers, the sound sharp and commanding, and he was on his feet in an instant, his gaze locked on hers. She tilted her head slightly, a silent invitation, and he didn’t need to be told twice.

Reaching down, Oscar hooked his fingers under the straps of her dress, pulling them slowly off her shoulders. The fabric slid down her body, pooling at her waist, revealing her bare chest. Y/N didn’t flinch, didn’t try to cover herself—she just watched him, her lips curled into a smirk, daring him to continue.

Oscar’s hands trembled slightly as he cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, already hardened from the anticipation. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above her skin for a moment before he finally closed the distance, his mouth warm and wet against her. Y/N let out a soft gasp, her fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked gently, his tongue circling her nipple in slow, teasing motions.

While Oscar focused on her chest, Lando was on his knees between her thighs, his hands gripping her hips as he buried his face in her. His tongue was relentless, licking and sucking in a rhythm that made her toes curl. Y/N’s breathing hitched, her head falling back against the cushions as she let out a low moan.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her voice trembling with pleasure. “Just like that.”

Oscar shifted his attention to her other breast, his lips and tongue just as eager, while Lando devoured her with a hunger that left her trembling. She tightened her grip on both their heads, pulling them closer, urging them on.

“Good boys,” she murmured, her voice laced with command and satisfaction. “Don’t stop.”

Neither of them dared to disobey.

Lando’s tongue was relentless, sliding between her folds with a practiced precision that had her toes curling. He alternated between broad, slow strokes and focused flicks around her clit, each movement deliberate and maddening. His lips wrapped around her sensitive bud, sucking gently at first, then harder as her moans grew louder, her fingers tightening in his curls. She could feel his breath, hot and uneven, against her skin, and the way his hands gripped her thighs to keep her spread open for him only heightened the intensity.

Oscar, meanwhile, was focused on her breasts, his mouth warm and wet as he teased her nipples with his tongue. He swirled around them in slow, deliberate circles before lightly grazing them with his teeth, just enough to make her gasp. When he bit down gently, a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through her, and she arched into him, her body trembling from the combined sensations.

“Fuck,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely more than a breath as her hips rolled against Lando’s mouth, seeking more of the pleasure he was giving her. Her fingers tightened in Oscar’s hair, pulling him closer, urging him to continue. “Don’t stop. Either of you.”

Lando obeyed without hesitation, his tongue circling her clit faster now, his lips sucking harder. Oscar’s teeth nipped at her nipples again, and the dual sensations sent her spiraling. Her breath hitched, her back arching off the couch as the pleasure built, coiling tighter and tighter until she couldn’t hold back any longer.

She came with a low, shuddering moan, her thighs clamping around Lando’s head as her body trembled. He didn’t stop, licking her through it, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until she was panting and spent, her hand trembling as she pushed him away gently.

Breathless and still riding the high of her orgasm, she pulled Lando onto the carpet, her legs straddling his hips as she leaned down to kiss him. Her lips were hungry, demanding, and he responded immediately, his hands gripping her waist as he tried to pull her closer. But Y/N didn’t let him take control. She deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against his, her movements slow and deliberate, a reminder that she was in charge here. And she made sure he knew it.

She glanced over her shoulder at Oscar, who was still sitting on the couch, his eyes dark with want. “You’re not allowed to touch me,” she said, her voice firm but playful. “Not yet. Sit there and watch how I use him.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He just watched, his breathing growing heavier with every moan Lando let out, every sound that escaped Y/N’s lips as she moved against him.

Y/N’s lips lingered on Lando’s, her tongue sliding against his in a slow, deliberate rhythm that left him breathless. She pulled back just enough to smirk down at him, her eyes glittering with dominance. “Hands to yourself,” she murmured, her voice low and commanding, and Lando obeyed instantly, his arms falling to his sides as he stared up at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

She shifted her hips slightly, the motion slow and teasing, and Lando let out a soft groan as she felt the hard outline of his cock pressing against her through his jeans. Y/N smirked, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “You like that, don’t you? Feeling me grind on you while you can’t do a thing about it.”

Lando’s breath hitched, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to touch her but didn’t dare disobey. Y/N’s hips rolled again, this time with more purpose, the friction of her dress against his jeans sending a shiver up her spine. She leaned back slightly, her hands braced against his chest, and looked down at him, her gaze heavy with both challenge and desire.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Lando whispered, his voice rough with need, his hips jerking slightly as she pressed down harder, her movements slow and deliberate. She could feel him trembling beneath her, his body straining to keep still, to obey her command.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Oscar shift on the couch, his hands gripping the edge of it like he was trying to keep himself from moving. His eyes were dark, his lips slightly parted as he watched her, and she could see the way his jaw tightened with every roll of her hips, every moan that escaped Lando’s lips.

“Poor Oscar,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy as she glanced at him. “You look like you’re aching.” She ground down on Lando again, harder this time, and he let out a low groan, his head falling back against the carpet. Y/N smirked, her gaze flicking back to Oscar. “But don’t worry. You’ll get your turn.”

Oscar’s breath hitched, his fingers digging into the couch cushions as he watched her, his body visibly tense with need. Y/N laughed softly, the sound low and throaty, and leaned back down to kiss Lando again, her hips still moving in slow, teasing circles. She felt him twitch beneath her, his cock straining against his jeans, and she pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “Patience, Lando. You’ll get what you want. When I say so.”

Lando groaned, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, and Y/N smirked again, her eyes locking onto Oscar’s. “And you,” she said, her voice soft but dripping with command, “keep watching. You’ll learn a thing or two about how to please a woman.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He just watched, his breathing growing heavier with every roll of Y/N’s hips, every moan that escaped Lando’s lips as she ground against him. She kissed Lando again, her hands gripping his shoulders as she moved against him, her body flush against his, her movements slow, deliberate, and utterly in control.

Y/N slowed her movements on Lando’s lap, her hips rolling in a final, teasing circle before she stilled completely. She leaned back, her hands braced against his chest, and looked down at him with a smirk that was equal parts playful and assertive. Lando’s eyes were wide, his breathing heavy, his body trembling beneath her as if begging her to continue. She laughed softly, the sound low and throaty, and ran a hand through his curls, her fingers tangling gently in them.

“Patience, Lando,” she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement. “I’m not done with you yet. But someone else needs a turn.” She shifted her weight slightly, her thighs pressing against his hips as she lifted herself off his lap with a deliberate slowness that made him groan in frustration. Her dress slid back down her thighs as she stood, the fabric teasingly brushing against her skin as she took a step back. Lando’s hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for her, but he didn’t dare. He just lay there, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes following her every move with a desperate hunger that was almost painful to see.

Y/N turned away from him, her movements slow and deliberate as she walked toward Oscar, who was still seated on the couch. His eyes were locked on her, dark and intense, his hands gripping the edge of the cushion like he was trying to keep himself under control. She stopped in front of him, her gaze sweeping over him with a mix of challenge and amusement, and then she smirked.

“You’ve been very patient, Oscar,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “Let’s see if you can keep it up.” Without waiting for a response, she lowered herself onto his lap, her legs straddling his hips, her dress riding up her thighs as she settled into place. Her pussy pressed against the hard outline of his cock, the thin fabric of her dress doing nothing to dull the sensation. Oscar’s breath hitched, his hands twitching on the cushion as if he wanted to touch her, but he didn’t move. He just stared at her, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and need.

Y/N leaned in, her hands resting on his shoulders as her lips brushed against his in a soft, teasing kiss. She pulled back slightly, her breath warm against his mouth, and murmured, “Hands to yourself, Oscar. You don’t get to touch me. Not yet.” Her hips rolled slowly, the heat of her pussy pressing against him through the fabric of her dress, and Oscar groaned, his body tensing beneath her as he fought to keep his hands at his sides.

She kissed him again, this time with more purpose, her lips parting slightly as her tongue brushed against his. Oscar responded immediately, his mouth moving against hers with a hunger that matched her own, but he kept his hands still, his fingers digging into the couch cushions as he obeyed her command. Y/N’s hips moved in slow, deliberate circles, the friction sending shivers up her spine as she ground against him, her dress riding higher with every motion.

“Good boy,” she whispered against his lips, her voice low and approving. She kissed him again, her movements growing more demanding as she rocked against him, her body flush against his, her dominance clear in every touch, every movement, every breath. And all the while, Lando lay on the floor, watching with a mix of jealousy and desperation, his body aching for her return. But Y/N didn’t look back. She was too busy making Oscar her next victim.

Y/N stopped grinding on Oscar, her movements slowing to a tantalizing halt that left him breathless beneath her. She leaned back slightly, her hands braced against his shoulders, and smirked down at him, her eyes glinting with mischief and dominance. Without a word, she rose from his lap, her dress sliding back down her thighs as she stood. The fabric brushed against her skin in a way that was almost teasing, and she took a step back, her gaze flicking between Oscar and Lando with a look that was equal parts challenge and amusement.

“Strip,” she said, her voice low and commanding, her hands resting on her hips as she looked at Lando first, then Oscar. Neither man hesitated. Lando’s hands trembled slightly as he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. His chest was lean and toned, his skin flushed with anticipation, and Y/N’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before she turned to Oscar.

Oscar was slower, more deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers as he tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside. His chest was broader than Lando’s, his muscles defined but not overly so, and Y/N’s lips curled into a smirk as she stepped closer to him, her fingertips brushing lightly over his abs. She felt him tense beneath her touch, his breath hitching slightly as her fingers trailed lower, tracing the line of his hip bones before she moved away, her gaze shifting back to Lando.

She walked between them slowly, her movements deliberate and unhurried, her fingertips trailing over Lando’s abs, over the curve of his hip bones, before she stepped back and looked at them both, her dark eyes glittering with dominance. “I want to hear you whimper,” she said, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with command. “Not moan. Not speak. Whimper.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he struggled to keep himself under control. Oscar’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared at her, his body visibly tense with need. Y/N smirked, her gaze flicking between them, and then she reached for the hem of her dress, pulling it slowly over her head and tossing it aside.

She stood before them, her confidence unshakable, her dominance clear in every inch of her exposed skin. The soft curve of her breasts drew both men’s gaze immediately, the absence of a bra leaving nothing to the imagination. Y/N didn’t flinch, didn’t try to cover herself—she just stood there, her chin tilted up slightly, her gaze steady and unwavering. Her body was on full display now, every inch of her radiating power and control.

Neither Lando nor Oscar dared to look away, their eyes locked on her like she was the only thing in the room. Y/N smirked, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she took a slow, deliberate step forward, her hips swaying slightly with the movement. She could feel their eyes on her, their hunger palpable, and she reveled in it, in the way she had them completely at her mercy.

"You wanted this," she said, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with challenge. "Now you’re going to show me just how much."

The room was silent, the only sound the ragged breathing of the two men as they stared at her, completely and utterly under her spell.

Y/N stepped into the middle of the living room, her movements slow and deliberate, her naked body a canvas of power and control. She knelt down, the cool floor beneath her knees only adding to the electric tension in the room. Her eyes flicked between Lando and Oscar, her gaze steady and unwavering as she commanded them with nothing but a look.

“Come here,” she said, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with authority.

Both men obeyed instantly, their legs carrying them to her without hesitation. They stood before her, completely naked, their cocks standing at attention, inches from her face. The sight alone was enough to make her pulse quicken, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a smirk as she looked up at them, her dominance clear in every inch of her posture.

She shifted her focus to Oscar first, her eyes locked onto his as her hands slid up his thighs, her touch feather-light yet purposeful. She leaned in, her lips brushing against the inside of his thigh in a soft, teasing kiss that made him shiver. Oscar’s breath hitched, his hands twitching at his sides as he fought to stay still, to obey her command not to touch her. She kissed his thigh again, her lips warm and wet against his skin, and then she glanced over at Lando, her smirk widening when she saw the jealousy burning in his eyes.

Lando was furious. He couldn’t stand the thought of her touching Oscar first, of her lips brushing against his skin while he was left to watch, to wait. He was the one who had introduced her to Oscar. He was the one who had known her longer, who had wanted her more. And yet, here he was, standing there like a fucking idiot, completely naked, his cock hard and inches from her face, the tip flushed with desperation as he watched her kiss Oscar’s thigh, her lips lingering just long enough to make him squirm.

Y/N knew exactly what she was doing. She had known Lando long enough to understand how possessive he could be, how much he hated the idea of sharing her, even for a moment. And she was using that to her advantage, using it to drive him wild, to make him ache for her in a way he never had before. She kissed Oscar’s thigh again, her tongue flicking against his skin in a way that made him groan, and then she glanced back at Lando, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.

“Patience, Lando,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing, her lips brushing against Oscar’s skin as she spoke. “You’ll get your turn. But first…” She leaned in, her mouth hovering just above Oscar’s cock, her breath warm against him as she whispered, “Let me hear you whimper.”

Oscar’s breath hitched, his body trembling beneath her as he fought to keep himself under control. “Fuck, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. She smirked, her lips brushing against the head of his cock in a soft, teasing kiss that made him groan, and then she pulled back slightly, her gaze flicking to Lando again for a second.

And when she finally took him into her mouth, he couldn’t hold back any longer. A soft, desperate whimper escaped his lips, the sound sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine as she smirked up at him, her dark eyes glinting with satisfaction.

She could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled beneath her touch, and she reveled in it, in the power she had over him. Her tongue flicked out, tracing the sensitive underside of his shaft in a slow, deliberate motion that made him groan, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he fought to stay still.

She smirked up at him, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she took him into her mouth, inch by inch, her tongue swirling around him as she descended. Oscar’s breath hitched, his body tensing as she took him deeper, her lips wrapping tightly around him as she began to move. Her head bobbed slowly, her tongue pressing against the underside of his cock with every upward stroke, her lips creating a delicious suction that had him trembling beneath her.

Y/N’s movements were deliberate, her pace slow and unhurried, as if she wanted to savor every moment of this. She pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock as she swirled her tongue around him, teasing him with the barest hint of pressure before taking him back into her mouth. Oscar groaned, his hands forming into a fist as he fought to keep himself under control, his body trembling with the effort.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Lando watching them, his eyes filled with jealousy, his cock impossibly hard as he stood there, completely at her mercy. She could see the frustration burning in his eyes, the way his jaw tightened as he watched her suck Oscar’s cock, and she reveled in it, in the way she was driving him wild with just a few slow, deliberate strokes of her tongue.

She pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against the tip of Oscar’s cock as she smirked up at him. “You like that, don’t you?” she murmured, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with amusement. Oscar nodded, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he stared down at her, his body trembling with need.

Y/N didn’t give him a chance to respond. She took him back into her mouth, her lips wrapping tightly around him as she began to move again, her pace quickening slightly as she worked him with her tongue. She swirled it around the sensitive head of his cock, teasing him with the barest hint of pressure before descending again, taking him deeper into her mouth with every stroke.

Oscar groaned, his body trembling with the need. Y/N’s movements grew more purposeful, her pace quickening as she worked him with her tongue, her lips creating a delicious suction that had him trembling beneath her. She could feel the way his cock twitched in her mouth, the way his breathing grew heavier with every stroke of her tongue, and she smirked around him, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Y/N pulled back slowly, her lips leaving Oscar’s cock with a soft, wet pop that echoed in the silent room. A string of saliva connected her mouth to the tip of his shaft, glistening in the low light as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand, a small smirk playing on her face. Her chin was damp, her lips swollen, and she didn’t care in the slightest. She turned her gaze to Lando, her eyes locking onto his with a mischievous glint that made his breath catch.

Lando was fuming, his jaw clenched, his hands trembling at his sides. The jealousy was written all over his face, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and desire as he watched her. Y/N tilted her head slightly, her smirk widening as she crawled toward him on her knees, her movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. She stopped just inches away from him, her eyes never leaving his, her breath warm against his cock as she leaned in, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.

“Patience, Lando,” she whispered, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with amusement. She kissed his thigh again, her lips warm and wet, her tongue flicking against his skin in a way that made him shiver. “You’re going to have to wait your turn. But don’t worry, I’ll make it worth it.”

Lando’s breath hitched, his body trembling with the effort of staying still, of obeying her command not to touch her. She leaned back slightly, her eyes locked onto his as her hand wrapped around the base of his cock, her fingers tightening just enough to make him groan. She smirked, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she began to stroke him slowly, her thumb brushing against the sensitive underside of his shaft with every upward motion.

“You’re so eager, aren’t you?” she teased, her voice low and husky, her eyes full of mischief. She leaned in again, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock, her breath warm against him as she whispered, “Whimper for me, Lando.”

Lando didn’t hesitate. A soft, desperate sound escaped his lips, the sound sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine as she smirked up at him, eyes glinting with satisfaction. She leaned in, her lips wrapping around the tip of his cock, her tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh in a slow, deliberate motion that made him groan. Her hand continued to stroke him, her fingers tightening slightly as she took him deeper into her mouth, inch by agonizing inch.

Lando’s breathing grew heavier, his body trembling beneath her as she worked him with her mouth, her tongue pressing against the underside of his cock with every stroke. She could feel the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the way his hips jerked slightly, as if he was trying to thrust into her mouth but didn’t dare disobey her command. She smirked around him, her eyes flicking up to meet his as she pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock as she whispered, “Good boy.”

She took him back into her mouth, her movements growing more purposeful, her pace quickening as she worked him with her tongue. She swirled it around the sensitive head of his cock, teasing him with the barest hint of pressure before descending again, taking him deeper into her mouth with every stroke. Lando groaned, his body trembling with the need to touch her, to take control, but he didn’t dare. He just stood there, completely at her mercy, his eyes locked onto her as she took him deeper, her lips creating a delicious suction that had him trembling beneath her.

Y/N’s movements were deliberate, her pace slow at first, as if she wanted to savor every moment of this. She pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock as she swirled her tongue around him, teasing him with the barest hint of pressure before taking him back into her mouth. Lando groaned, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he fought to stay still, to obey her command not to touch her. But it was becoming increasingly difficult, the sight of her with his cock in her mouth driving him wild.

She was mesmerising, her eyes locked onto his as she worked him with her mouth, her lips creating a delicious suction that had him trembling with need. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, couldn’t stop staring at the way her lips stretched around him, the way her tongue flicked against the sensitive flesh of his cock with every stroke. He was completely lost in her, in the way she was driving him wild with just a few slow, deliberate strokes of her tongue.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Oscar watching them, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he fought to keep himself under control. She smirked around Lando’s cock, her eyes flicking to Oscar for just a moment before returning to Lando. “You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmured, her voice low and husky, the words sending a shiver down Lando’s spine. “Completely at my mercy.”

She took him back into her mouth, her movements growing more purposeful, her pace quickening as she worked him with her tongue. She could feel the way his body tensed beneath her, the way his cock twitched in her mouth, and she smirked around him, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. She was in complete control, and she knew it. And she was loving every second of it.

Y/N pulled back slowly, her lips leaving Lando’s cock with a soft, wet pop. Lando whimpered, the sound desperate and needy, his body trembling as he fought to keep himself under control. She smirked up at him and rose to her feet, her movements slow and deliberate. She stood before them, naked and confident, her gaze sweeping over their flushed faces and trembling bodies like a queen surveying her subjects.

The silence was thick, suffocating, charged with the weight of anticipation. Neither Lando nor Oscar dared to speak, their eyes locked on her as she stepped closer, her bare feet padding softly against the floor. She stopped inches away from them, her chin tilted slightly, her smirk widening as she looked between them, her dominance radiating from every inch of her.

“Here’s the deal,” she said, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with challenge. “I’m going to touch you both for sixty seconds. Whoever doesn’t make a sound gets to fuck me first.” Her smirk widened, her dark eyes glinting with mischief as she added, “Good luck.”

Neither man dared to respond. They just stood there, their breathing shallow, their bodies tense with anticipation as she stepped closer, her hands trailing up their chests in a slow, deliberate motion. Her touch was feather-light, her fingertips brushing over their skin in a way that sent shivers down their spines. She leaned in, her lips brushing against Lando’s collarbone in a soft, teasing kiss that made him shiver, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he fought to stay silent.

Her gaze flicked to Oscar, her smirk widening as she leaned in to kiss his shoulder, her lips warm and wet against his skin. She moved lower, her tongue flicking against his chest in a slow, deliberate motion that made him tremble, his breath hitching slightly as he fought to keep himself under control. She glanced up at him, her eyes glinting with mischief as she whispered, “You’re doing so well, Oscar. Don’t break now.”

Her hands trailed lower, her fingers brushing over their abs, teasingly close to their cocks but not quite touching. She shifted her focus back to Lando, her lips brushing against his stomach in a slow, lingering kiss that made him groan, his body trembling beneath her touch. She smirked up at him, her eyes dark with mischief as she whispered, “Patience, Lando. You’re doing so well.”

But she wasn’t done. Her hand wrapped around his cock, her fingers tightening slightly as she began to stroke him slowly, her thumb brushing against the sensitive underside of his shaft with every upward motion. Lando’s breath hitched, his body trembling as he fought to stay silent, but it was becoming increasingly difficult, the sight of her with her hand on his cock driving him wild.

She turned her attention to Oscar, her hand wrapping around his cock as well, her fingers tightening just enough to make him groan. She smirked up at him, her eyes with mischief as she began to stroke him slowly, her thumb brushing against the sensitive underside of his shaft with every upward motion. Oscar’s breath hitched, his body trembling as he fought to stay silent, but it was becoming increasingly difficult, the sight of her driving him wild.

She glanced between them, her smirk widening as she leaned in, her lips brushing against the tip of Lando’s cock in a soft, teasing kiss that made him groan. She shifted her focus to Oscar, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock in a soft, teasing kiss that made him tremble. She could feel them both on the edge, their bodies trembling with need, their breathing ragged and uneven as they fought to stay silent.

But then, it happened. A soft, desperate whimper escaped Oscar’s lips, the sound sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine as she smirked up at him, her dark eyes glinting with satisfaction. She pulled back slightly, her hand still wrapped around his cock, and murmured, “Well, well, Oscar. Looks like you’re the loser.”

She turned her attention to Lando, her smirk widening as she whispered, “You win, Lando. Congratulations.” Her hand tightened around his cock, her thumb brushing against the sensitive underside of his shaft as she stroked him slowly, her movements deliberate and unhurried. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “Now, let’s make this worth it.”

Y/N leaned back slightly, her hand tightening around Lando’s cock as she gave him one final, slow stroke before releasing him. Her eyes flicked to Oscar, who was still standing there, his breathing ragged, his body trembling with need. She smirked, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she stepped away from Lando and walked over to the couch, her movements slow and deliberate. She sank down onto the soft cushions, her legs spreading slightly as she leaned back, her gaze locked on Oscar.

“Sit,” she commanded, her voice low and velvety, the word dripping with authority. Oscar didn’t hesitate. He moved quickly, sinking down onto the couch opposite her, his eyes never leaving hers. She could see the way his hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to touch himself but didn’t dare without her permission. She smirked, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she leaned back, her legs spreading wider, her hips tilting slightly toward him. “Touch yourself,” she said, her voice firm but soft, like she was giving an order she knew he wouldn’t dare disobey. “Slowly. But if you even think about coming, I’ll stop everything.”

Oscar’s breath hitched, his hands trembling slightly as he reached between his legs, his fingers wrapping around his cock. He began to stroke himself slowly, his eyes locked on Y/N, his breathing growing heavier with every stroke. She smirked, her gaze flicking to Lando, who was still standing there, his cock hard and flushed with need, his eyes burning with a mix of jealousy and desire. She tilted her head slightly, her smirk widening as she murmured, “Come here, Lando.”

Lando didn’t hesitate. He moved quickly, sinking down onto the couch beside her, his body trembling with need as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. “Fuck, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

She smirked, her hands sliding up his chest, her fingertips brushing over his skin in a slow, deliberate motion. “Then take me,” she murmured, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with challenge. “Show me how much you’ve wanted this.”

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft skin as he positioned himself between her legs, his cock brushing against her slick entrance. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You’re so fucking perfect, Y/N.”

She smirked, her hands sliding up his back, her nails digging into his skin as she whispered, “Fuck me, Lando. Show me how much you’ve wanted this.”

He didn’t hesitate. He pushed into her slowly, inch by agonizing inch, his breath hitching as he felt her tight, wet heat enveloping him. Y/N’s breath hitched, her head falling back against the couch as she felt him filling her, stretching her in a way she had never experienced before. Her pussy clenched around him, her walls stretching to accommodate his size, and she let out a low, shuddering moan as he bottomed out, his hips pressed flush against hers.

Lando groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through her body. Her pussy felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as he fucked her, his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside her with every thrust. Her tits bounced with the rhythm of his movements, her nipples hard and sensitive.

“Fuck, Lando,” she moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she rolled her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. “You feel so fucking good.”

Lando groaned, his pace quickening, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, as he fucked her, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he drove into her. Y/N’s pussy clenched around him, her walls fluttering as she felt her orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust.

Her eyes flicked to Oscar, who was still sitting there, his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself slowly, his eyes locked on them, his breathing ragged and uneven. She smirked, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she murmured, “Look how good he fills me. Look how I stretch for him. That could’ve been you.”

Oscar groaned, his hand tightening around his cock as he stroked himself. He could feel the heat building in his groin, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke, but he didn’t dare come, not when she had made it clear that she would stop everything if he did.

Y/N’s gaze flicked back to Lando, her smirk widening as she rolled her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, her pussy clenching around him as she felt her orgasm building. “Fuck, Lando,” she moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she whispered, “You’re so fucking good at this.”

Lando groaned, his pace quickening, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, as he fucked her. Y/N’s pussy clenched around him, her walls fluttering as she felt her orgasm building more and more, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust.

Her eyes flicked to Oscar again, her smirk widening as she murmured, “You’re so obedient. Sitting there like a good little boy while he fucks me senseless.”

Oscar groaned, his hand tightening around his cock as he continued to stroked himself. He could feel the heat building in his groin, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke, but he didn’t dare come.

Y/N’s smirk widened as she glanced at Oscar, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Come here,” she commanded, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with authority. Oscar didn’t hesitate. He moved quickly, sinking down onto the couch next to her head, his cock hard and flushed with need. Lando’s thrusts didn’t stop, his hips meeting hers with every movement, her pussy clenching around him as she reached for Oscar’s cock, her fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft in a firm grip.

She began to stroke him slowly, her thumb brushing against the sensitive underside of his cock with every upward motion. Oscar groaned, his body trembling with need as he watched her, his breathing ragged and uneven. Y/N smirked, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she leaned in, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock in a soft, teasing kiss that made him shiver. Then she took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around him in slow, deliberate motions that had him groaning, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as he fought to stay still.

All the while, Lando continued fucking her, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, as he chased his own release. Her pussy was full of him, her walls fluttering around his cock as he filled her, the sensation of him inside her sending waves of pleasure through her body. Her breasts bounced with every movement.

Y/N’s mouth was full of Oscar, her lips wrapped tightly around him as she worked him with her tongue, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she wanted to savor every moment of this. She could feel the way his cock twitched in her mouth, the way his breathing grew heavier with every stroke of her tongue, and she smirked around him.

Between Lando’s cock filling her pussy and Oscar’s cock in her mouth, Y/N was completely lost in the pleasure, her body trembling with the intensity of it all.

She let out a low, shuddering moan, the sound muffled by Oscar’s cock as she came, her pussy clenching tightly around Lando as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Overwhelmed, she pulled back, releasing Oscar’s cock from her mouth with a soft, wet pop. Her head fell back against the cushions, her lips swollen and glistening, as a loud, unrestrained moan escaped her lips, echoing through the room. Her body trembled, her hips rocking against Lando as he continued to thrust into her, driving her pleasure higher.

Oscar’s breath hitched, his body trembling as he fought to keep himself under control, the sudden loss of her warm mouth around him driving him wild. His hand tightened around his cock, stroking himself slowly, his eyes locked on her as she came undone beneath Lando. The sight of her, completely lost in pleasure, sent a jolt of heat through him, and he groaned.

Y/N’s moans grew louder, her voice raw with need as Lando fucked her through her climax. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her nails leaving faint marks on his skin as she arched into him, her body trembling with the intensity of her release. She gasped for air, her chest heaving as she whispered, “Fuck, Lando,” her voice trembling with pleasure.

Oscar groaned, his body trembling as he watched her, his hand moving faster on his cock, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke. He wanted to touch her, to feel her, but he didn’t dare disobey her command. He just sat there, completely at her mercy, the sight of her coming undone beneath Lando driving him wild.

Lando’s thrusts grew faster, more erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he felt the heat building in his groin. “Y/N,” he groaned, his voice trembling with urgency, “I’m so close. I’m going to cum.”

Y/N smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. “Cum inside me, Lando,” she whispered, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with command. “Fill me with your cum.”

The moment the words left her lips, Lando’s entire body tensed. A low, guttural moan escaped his throat as he thrust into her one final time, his cock twitching violently as he came, hot ropes of cum spurting deep inside her. His hips jerked uncontrollably, his release so intense it left him trembling, his breath hitching as he spilled himself into her. Y/N gasped, her pussy clenching tightly around him as she felt the warmth of his cum filling her, the sensation electric and overwhelming.

She moaned, her voice raw with pleasure, her body trembling as she felt every pulse of his cock inside her. “Fuck, Lando,” she breathed, her hips rocking against him as she savored the feeling of his cum coating her walls, the slick heat of it making her even more sensitive. Her pussy fluttered around him, her walls tightening as if trying to milk every last drop from him, and she leaned back, her head resting against the couch, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

Lando groaned, his body still trembling as he stayed buried inside her, his cock twitching as the last remnants of his release spilled into her. He couldn’t believe how dirty she was, how commanding she had been, and the thought alone sent another jolt of pleasure through him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with need, “you’re so fucking perfect.”

Next to her head, Oscar was on the edge of losing control. His hand gripped his cock tightly, his strokes growing faster, harder, as he listened to her command Lando to cum inside her. The words had sent a shockwave through him, the thought of her being filled so completely driving him wild. His breath hitched, his body trembling as he fought to keep himself from coming, the heat in his groin building to an unbearable level.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand tightening around his cock as he stroked himself, his eyes locked on Y/N’s face as she moaned, her pleasure palpable. The sight of her, completely lost in the feeling of Lando’s cum inside her, was almost too much to bear. His cock twitched in his hand, pre-cum leaking from the tip as he fought to keep himself under control, his breathing ragged and uneven.

Y/N glanced over at Oscar, her smirk widening as she saw the state he was in. “Look at you,” she teased, her voice low and husky, “so desperate just from watching. Don’t cum yet, Oscar. You’ll get your turn.”

Oscar groaned, his hand tightening around his cock as he fought to obey her command, the sight of Lando still buried inside her driving him wild. He wanted to touch her, to feel her, but he didn’t dare disobey her. He just sat there, completely at her mercy, the heat in his groin coiling tighter and tighter with every breath.

Y/N leaned back against the couch, her body still trembling from Lando’s orgasm, her pussy slick and dripping with his cum. She looked up at Lando and smirked. “Sit down,” she commanded, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with authority. “Let him take his turn.” Lando hesitated for a moment, his cock still twitching from his release, but he obeyed, pulling out of her slowly with a soft groan. He sat down where Oscar had been, his eyes never leaving Y/N, his expression a mix of pride and possessiveness as he watched her.

She turned her gaze to Oscar, her smirk widening as she spread her legs wider, her pussy still glistening with Lando’s cum. “Your turn,” she said, her voice firm but soft, like she was giving an order she knew he wouldn’t dare disobey. Oscar’s breath hitched, his body trembling with need as he moved toward her, his cock hard and flushed with anticipation. He positioned himself between her legs, his hands gripping her hips as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. “You’re so fucking perfect, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with need.

Y/N smirked, her hands sliding up his chest, her fingertips brushing over his skin in a slow, deliberate motion. “Fuck me, Oscar,” she murmured, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with challenge. “Show me how much you’ve wanted this.”

Oscar didn’t hesitate. He pushed into her slowly, inch by agonizing inch, his breath hitching as he felt her tight, wet heat enveloping him. She was still so wet from Lando’s cum, her pussy slick and warm as it stretched to accommodate his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, the mixture of her tightness and the slick heat of Lando’s release sending a jolt of pleasure through him as he bottomed out, his hips pressed flush against hers.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Oscar groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one stirring a deep, aching need inside her. Her core throbbed with heat, every nerve alive with pleasure as he moved inside her, his cock finding that perfect spot deep within with every powerful stroke. She could feel the way his cock stretched her, the way it filled her completely, and she moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she rolled her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Oscar whispered, his breath hitching as he felt her pussy clenching around him, her walls fluttering as he fucked her. The sensation was overwhelming, the way she stretched around him, the way her pussy gripped him so tightly, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He could feel the warmth of Lando’s cum coating his cock, the slick heat of it making every thrust feel even more intense, and he groaned, his pace quickening, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, as he chased his own release.

Lando watched them, his eyes filled with a mix of jealousy and pride. To him, it felt like he had already claimed Y/N as his, and Oscar was just borrowing what was his. She’s mine, he thought, his cock twitching as he watched Oscar fuck her, his hips meeting hers with every thrust. She belongs to me. He could see the way her pussy stretched around Oscar’s cock, the way her walls fluttered around him, and the thought of her being filled completely by another man sent a jolt of heat through him. But he didn’t feel threatened. Instead, he felt a sense of pride, like he had already marked her as his, and Oscar was just a guest in his territory.

Oscar’s thrusts grew faster, more erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he felt the heat building in his groin. “Y/N,” he groaned, his voice trembling with urgency, “I’m so close. I’m going to cum.”

Y/N smirked, her dark eyes glinting with mischief as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. “Cum inside me, Oscar,” she whispered, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with command. “Fill me with your cum.”

The instant the words left her mouth, Oscar’s whole body went rigid. A deep, primal groan tore from his throat as he drove into her one last time, his cock pulsing hard as he climaxed, thick streams of cum flooding deep inside her. His hips bucked without control, the orgasm hitting so hard it left him shaking, his breath catching as he emptied himself into her. Y/N gasped, her pussy clenching tightly around him as she felt the warmth of his cum mixing with Lando’s, the sensation electric and overwhelming.

She cried out, her voice hoarse with bliss, her body quivering as she felt every throb of his cock buried deep inside her. “Fuck, Oscar,” she gasped, her hips rolling against his as she relished the sensation of his release soaking her walls, the warm slickness heightening her sensitivity. Her pussy clenched around him, her muscles contracting like they were trying to draw out every final drop, and she leaned back, her head sinking into the couch, a contented smile tugging at her lips.

Oscar let out a low groan, his body still shaking as he remained deep inside her, his cock twitching with the final waves of his climax leaking into her. He could hardly believe how filthy she was, how utterly in control, and the thought alone sent another surge of pleasure racing through him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice gravelly with desire, “you feel like fucking heaven.”

Lando watched them, his cock twitching with arousal again as he saw Y/N’s pussy still stretched around Oscar’s cock, the mixture of their cum dripping from her.

Y/N smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she tilted her hips slightly, forcing Oscar to pull out of her. His cock slipped free with a wet sound, a mix of his and Lando’s cum dripping out of her pussy and onto the couch beneath her. She leaned back, her legs spread wide, their combined release glistening on her thighs and pooling between her legs. Lando and Oscar stared, their breaths hitching as they watched her pussy, stretched and still quivering, their cum spilling out of her in a filthy display of their shared claim.

Lando, already hard again at the sight, clenched his fists, his jaw tight as he watched her with a mix of pride and possessiveness. Oscar, still trembling from his release, couldn’t look away, his cock twitching as he took in the sight of her completely filled, their cum dripping from her swollen lips.

Y/N’s smirk deepened as she reached down, her fingers sliding through the slick mess between her legs. She hooked two fingers inside her pussy, feeling the warmth of their cum coating her walls, and pulled them out slowly, her fingers glistening with their release. She held her hand up, her gaze flicking between the two men as she brought her fingers to her lips. Her tongue darted out, licking the cum from her fingers with deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving theirs. She sucked them clean, her lips wrapping around her fingertips in a way that made both men groan, their cocks twitching with renewed arousal.

“Delicious,” she purred, her voice low and husky, the word dripping with satisfaction. She leaned back, her fingers trailing down her body as she smirked at them, her dominance radiating from every inch of her. Lando and Oscar were completely transfixed, their eyes locked on her as she savored the taste of their cum, their bodies trembling with the need to reclaim her.

She tilted her head slightly, her smirk widening as she whispered, “You both did so well.” Her fingers dipped back between her legs, teasing her swollen pussy as she watched them, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. You’re mine now, she thought, her dominance radiating through the room. “But don’t think I’m done with you yet,” she said, her voice low and velvety, the words dripping with command. “There’s still so much more I want to do to you.”

Her gaze flicked between them, her smirk deepening as she saw the way their cocks twitched at her words, their bodies trembling with need. Lando’s jaw tightened, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and desperation, while Oscar’s breath hitched. Good boys, she thought, her dominance only growing stronger as she savored their reactions.

She leaned back slightly, her fingers still teasing her pussy as she looked at them, her eyes flashing with challenge. “Who’s next?” she asked, her voice soft but firm, like she was giving an order she knew they wouldn’t dare disobey. Her lips curled into a knowing smile as she added, “Or maybe… I take you both at the same time.”

The room fell silent, the only sound of their ragged breathing as they stared at her, completely and utterly at her mercy. Lando’s cock twitched, the thought of her taking both of them at once sending a jolt of heat through him. Oscar groaned, his body trembling with need as he imagined her pussy stretched around him while she rode Lando, their cocks filling her completely.Y/N smirked, her fingers sliding out from between her legs as she leaned back, her legs spreading wider, her pussy still glistening with their cum. This is where I belong, she thought, her dominance radiating from every inch of her.

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elliesanqel · 4 months ago

Note

can you do reader eating sub!ellie out plspls🙏

consume

sypnosis; after you try on a new skirt you bought, you notice oddly submissive behaviour coming from ellie, making you determined to take advantage of it. warnings; e!receiving all, spitting, slight praise kink, eating sub!ellie out, fingering, soft dom!fem reader, overstim, multiple orgasms, mdni. a/n; thankyouuu for this req anon, hope you like it! i literally had to pause halfway through writing this cause sub ellie makes me feel things. ۫ ꣑ৎ .

you stand in front of the mirror, turning at different angles as your eyes travel all over the new skirt you’ve bought in order to assess how it looks on you. it hugged your body perfectly, your ass showing out the bottom a little. you loved it. you turned to face ellie who was half laying half sitting on the bed, watching your every move while she acted nonchalant. “you like it?” you ask innocently, voice soft. causing ellie’s eyes to shift up from where they weren’t supposed to be, to your eyes.

she nodded softly, a small hum coming from her at the same time. you frown in response. you knew ellie was never really the type to give full ass descriptions, but she’d normally at least say something. but all she could focus on was the wetness beginning to form in her boxers from the sight of you in that skirt, her pussy aching and pulsing.

“come on, whats wrong with it?” you ask, oblivious to what was going on, voice impatient as she let your question hang in the air for a bit. your brows furrowed when you noticed her slight squirming, her eyes squeezing shut and open. “nothin’. ‘s nice, baby.” she breathes, as if it took all her willpower to form that sentence.

small beads of sweat lined her forehead and her cheeks flushed a rosey pink. you knew something was up now, your eyebrows furrowing further. you walked over to the bed and sat next to ellie, your hand resting on her thigh. “whats up with you? you stressed or something? you look…weird.” you admit, your eyes scanning her whole body to try and catch something, and you did.

you noticed her thighs squeezing together, a pathetic look on her face as it looked like she was trying to hold back a moan. her head bowed a little, eyes squeezing shut and her voice fragile like it could break with the smallest bit of more contact. “fuck…” she muttered under her breath.

your eyes widened a little, now fully understanding what was going on as you watched her practically unfold in front of you.

“hm, i get it.” you grin, crawling a little closer to her as you cupped her chin gently, pulling it up. “look at me.” you command, her eyes immediately opening as she wasn’t really used to you saying such things. “is someone a little more needy than usual?” you ask with seduction practically dripping from your words.

she had to hold back a whimper, her lips thinning. “shut up.” she groans, but there was no real snap to it. you laugh at her, how pathetic she was sounding. you let go of her chin, moving on the bed so you were in front of her knees that were now up. hey eyes never left you, not even for a second, her heart rate quickening. your hands gently took her knees, spreading her legs apart slowly, crawling in between them and causing her eyes to widen and her lips to part. “what are you doing—”

you cut her off lightly. “shhh, let me take care of you, baby. just relax, mhm?” you whisper softly. it wasn’t often ellie was so submissive like this, you loved it. really loved it. she was such a loser when she was like this and it made you want to make her scream your name and beg for you to let her cum. the thought alone was enough to make you wet. “you’re so pathetic like this. needy for me, aren’t you?” you tease her, knowing she wasn’t able to protest.

“fuck you…” she whispers, no bark to her tone, even she knew she couldn’t protest. her head fell back against the bed, her eyes squeezing shut as she spread her thighs apart further, giving in to the dominant act for now. you grin as she doesn’t argue, your hands reaching forward and undoing the button of her skinny jeans, letting your hands linger on her waist for a bit before pulling them down and fully off. her pretty thighs greeting your eyes. you reach forward for her boxers next which did indeed have a wet patch. god she was such a loser for you.

your soft hands pulled them off her waist and down her legs, her hips lifting to help you. once they were off you tossed them to the side, looking back at her. her expression was a mix of neediness and something else—as if she was embarrassed.

you had to admit, fuck she was beautiful. her pussy gleamed with wetness in front of your eyes, her plump thighs spread apart and her pretty waist lay against the bed, her hoodie that had ridden up so you could see the bottom of her small boobs. you wanted so badly to compliment her but the need to just take her then and there was a more overpowering thought.

you lowered your head, looking at her eyes that never left you, your hand wrapping around her thigh while you took your other hand, softly touching ellies pulsing clit, swirling it with your delicate fingers. the movement caused ellies back to arch off the bed and her head to throw back, an unusual whore-ish moan falling from her parted lips. well shit, that was fucking hot. especially coming from her.

“god—” she gasped out as your fingers continued their movements on her puffy clit. a grin plastered on your lips. you take it further, wanting to get everything you could from her by slipping two fingers inside her throbbing pussy, curling them just right. “uuhhh, shit…” she whimpered, her head curling back further as her hips buckled up on your fingers, her back arching off the bed again. “fuck, don’t stop.” she whined out quickly, sounding like the most desperate loser ever—she’d normally never say anything like that. her hips continuing to buck against your fingers.

you grin, pumping your digits in and out of her cunt faster and faster, needy whines, groans and curses coming from her parted lips. her walls began pulsing around your fingers, you knew she was close but you also knew she’d never admit that so you gave her all you could, circling her puffy clit with your thumb as your fingers pumped in and out of her, her hands gripping the headboard behind her.

her face contorted in pleasure, her walls clamping down on your fingers as she shook vigorously, a needy moan falling from her lips as she comes on your fingers, the white liquid coating your fingers as it dripped out of her and onto the sheets. “oh shitttt.” she sighs out, breath ragged and eyes squeezed shut.

your face lit up at the sight before you. the same girl who loves being the one in control now had her cum all over your fingers. the irony.

but oh, how you were no where near done with her yet. you slipped your fingers out of her needy pussy, a small whine emitting from her at the loss of contact. you took your cum coated fingers into your mouth, licking up every last drop of ellies release, relishing every last drop as if it was your lifeline and making sure not to waste it. after all, it was very rare where you got to taste this loser and see her like this.

her eyes widened, clearly not expecting that from you. “wha—” she begins, but you quickly cut her off. “shhh, i’m not done with you yet. spread these pretty legs further.” she urge, voice seductive and low. she shakes her head as if she wasn’t just begging you to keep going 5 minutes ago. “huh? no way. i wanna give you—” you cut her off again, but not with your words.

you lean down and your lips make contact with her puffy clit, her head throwing back once more. “shit!” she gasps out, her plump thighs squeezing around your head which actually only egged you on. you gave her soft puppy licks, licking the cum, from her release that was left on her pussy, off. gathering it all up and swallowing it. your tongue worked magic on her, dipping into her aching hole every so often. she looked down at your head between her thighs, already seeing you looking up at her through your lashes as you ate her needy cunt. she had to admit, seeing you down there looking at her like that was a very pretty sight.

upon seeing you, her head fell back again, her teeth finding her bottom lip and her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. that face making you feel yourself getting wetter.

her hand found your hair, her fingers tangling with it and pushing your face closer. a very different demeanour from earlier when she thought you were done with her. like hell were you done. your hands reached to grip around her thighs, continuing your movements with your tongue. everytime your teeth made slight contact with her clit it drew loud moans from her. one hand left her thigh and slid up her stomach, slipping under her hoodie and cupping her small, warm breast, kneading it gently as you swirled your fingers around her hard nipple every now and then. “oh—oh my fucking goddd—” she cries out, hips bucking up against your face, nose against her clit.

“doing so well. being such a good girl for me, fuck…” you mumbled against her pussy, continuing your licks, the praising sending her almost rolling. you softly pulled back, looking at her swollen cunt, opening your mouth and softly spitting, letting your saliva fall down onto her as you quickly made contact again. the sensations of all your touches causing her to almost cry out of pleasure, a soft gasp escaping her lips when you spit on her folds. she was new to all this but god she loved it.

she was beginning to feel herself coming back to earth, her stomach clenching once more and her walls began pulsing around your tongue. “go on, baby. i know you have it in you, one more for me.” you egg her on, whispering against her pussy. she was shaking alot more this time, her second orgasm dawning on her. “c-cant…” she moans out as her eyes rolling back even further.

“yes you can, come on, sweetheart. you’re doing so so well.” you reply, trying to help her as much as you can as you continue dipping your tongue in and out of her throbbing walls. her face contorts once more, her body almost spasming as her moans get out and louder, her walls clenching around your tongue as her cum shoots out, directly into your mouth exactly where you wanted it. “mmm—fuuuuck…” she cries out, her back arching. you make sure to keep ahold of her to steady her, the slight overstimulation taking a toll on her as she’d never had that before.

you lick up every last bit, still making sure to not waste any as it was like liquid gold to you. you give her pussy a soft kiss before crawling out from between her legs, looking up at her dazed face and flopping beside her, well, basically on top of her. you wanted to be as close as possible, her calloused hands finding your waist and holding you for dear life. “that was…” she begins, a smirk growing on your face.

“amazing?”

“fuuuuck yeah. amazing.”

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meownotgood · 14 days ago

Text

all I need. / arcane herald!viktor x reader, 18+, reader is gender neutral (no anatomy is described, just that viktor is inside them), monsterfucking, mind meld, stomach bulge, size difference, marking, yearning, dom / sub undertones, praise, very slight degradation, aftercare. (pet names used for reader: little dove, little lamb, pet, love, my dear, beautiful, beloved) word count: 12.9k

read on ao3

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The Herald of the Arcane closes two giant palms around your waist, the faux air around you shimmers, compresses — and he promptly lifts you to settle your weight on his thigh, as though you weigh absolutely nothing.

You could partially attribute it to the softening of gravity. He's carved out a slice of the arcane for just the two of you. A pocket of unreality that sizzles with color, envelops you in its embrace, and fractures in the edges of your vision like broken stained glass.

The Arcane Herald, for all his clear omnipotence, has tracked you back down to your shitty little apartment on the corner of the Zaun-Piltover bridge. He tapped the door with his knuckles, and ducked underneath the doorframe to casually push into your apartment. You have to crane your neck at a near-painful angle to look up at him. You can't help but find it funny. A nine-foot-tall amalgamation of Hextech and magic and sinews twisted to an eldritch whim still knocks, before he enters your home. It was his home too, once.

But the two of you are currently somewhere else entirely.

"AN EDGE BETWEEN THE BOUNDS OF CORPOREALITY," Viktor answers; he reads your thoughts as if they're an open book, an effortlessly analyzed constellation sprawled beneath his fingertips. "DO NOT BE AFRAID. I COULD RETURN US TO THE MORTAL PLANE, IF YOU WISH."

He sounds like an angel. Reminds you of an artificial God in necromantic clothing.

His voice echoes, collapsing in on itself. It sings through your mind with the pure strength of the arcane. A melody resounding. There's a hint of his old tone, buried deep beneath the layers of power and magnitude. The abyssal reverberation opens its maw and swallows Viktor's familiar voice whole.

You shake your head in reply.

The Arcane Herald's false eyes stay steady on yours. Golden suns. Pupils ringed, spirals of anomaly-light curling within like whirlpools. A shiver shudders up the notches of your spine. It's as though you're being watched by multiple sets of eyes, instead of just two. The third arm jutting out from his back twitches violently, before strings of zodiac-runes fill the phantom space around you.

No, you aren't entirely afraid. Viktor can sense any underlying fears. Blossoms of wilting crimson and snapping venus fly traps, sprouting throughout the flourishing garden of your mind.

Still, when he curls his palm in, fluidly digging through the soil of your sequestered emotions, he can feel your affection. The resonant brush of old roots and bright, vivid petals.

You might've been scared, once. You must've been terrified when you thought Viktor was dead. And it certainly must be unsettling to finally come face to face with the aberration that's been wearing his skin. If you were to run, he couldn't blame you. His new form is effortlessly strong. Large, when compared to a mortal. A vessel capable of bending the structure of reality to his perfectly architectured will.

Viktor was prepared to sweeten your mind with pleasant memories. Perhaps you'd react better to a more desirable version of him. A cosmos-filled remembrance of soft touches and softer whispers, framed by promises made of sugar cubes and thick honey. He would bare what remains of his humanity, if you asked.

Instead, as Viktor catches your eyes for the first time in forever, he watches you murmur his name — less of a question, and more of a confirmation. Viktor. You sound shaky enough to topple and break. It's you. It's really, honestly you.

He steps a bit closer, a bit further into your apartment, the way one would attempt to corner something skittish. Crackles of lightning spark from where his feet meet the hardwood floor. You stumble in, fox to open bear trap, and you wrap your arms around his middle. Damp and teary cheek pressed into his side hard enough to leave an imprinted gear-shape behind.

He held you. What else was he meant to do? Allowing himself to be drawn here is an abandonment of his purpose in its own right. He hardly cares, barely considers how inconsequentially quaint this is. The Arcane Herald — the arcane's chosen vessel of calamity, once compelled to turn all of humanity into crumbling husks on a dead and faultless world; Viktor permits you to sob against him, as his hand delicately caresses the soft back of your head.

Viktor finds that right now, hours later, there is not a single droplet of fear present in your storm-bound system. Only pure, cascading delight.

You shift closer on his lap, you lean into his touch when he steadies a splayed palm to the bare small of your back. As the scene stabilizes, bubbling ripples of magic smooth out, until you and the Arcane Herald are held in a perfect crystal ball of transcendental abnormality. This is how Viktor's hold on your mind describes it, anyway.

"I HAVE MISSED YOU," Viktor coos. The deafening boom to his voice drowns out the subtle traces of tenderness. "YOUR PRESENCE IS… WELCOME."

You've no need to speak. He reads your reply before you can voice it. I've missed you, too.

Fate is a perpetual predetermination. Atlas holds the sky on his shoulders, and Viktor carries the glory of an entire arcane galaxy in his palms. Orpheus turns around for Eurydice, and Viktor chases the bittersweet comet-trail right back to where he first left you.

There isn't much sense in this. It goes against his pragmatic vision for pure evolution. He knows humanity is far from him now, a shadow he left with his first death. Indulging in its traces clashes with his goals. Clashes with everything the Hexcore sought to make him into: a chrysalis stripped of emotion, weakness, love.

In the first seven minutes after death, as the body turns cold, brainwaves replay the moments where they felt most warm; Viktor spiralled through every softly-braided memory of you, in the seven days he spent cocooned; the sound of your breathing, his breathing. The press of touch to touch, like soft snow against snow. His hex-ridden heart doesn't beat. He thinks he's seen your face behind his eyes for every hour of the seven months he spent evolving, searching for enlightenment all alone.

He is always alone, at the very end of everything.

Destiny weaves its cosmic thread through the magic he carries in his veins, and against all odds, it brought him here. To you. He remembers flickering through tangibility like a ghost, an apparition haunting the halls of Zaun and Piltover. Crawling home as though he never truly left.

Viktor has missed you the way dry earth misses rain, the way an entry shot misses an exit wound. The way electricity longs to be harnessed, and divinity craves to be worshipped.

He's weaker than he should be, for you. You are a lingering flicker of sentiment, a part of the fragments he swore to crush beneath his newfound palm. The sun-strong radiance inside himself that he can't manage to snuff out.

And now that the Arcane Herald has you, he isn't certain he'll ever be able to let you go.

The anomaly's bubbling aurora-light frames you, a halo glimmering at your edges. You've already discarded all of your clothing; you were meant to be cherished, he reasons, as he observes how your chest heaves with subtle, panting breaths. You quiver with mankind's most potent emotion: desire.

You impatiently shift closer. Your forehead lands against the nape of his neck, where his cape is tattered and magic-blown. Viktor's hold on the arcane shudders around you.

"Viktor," You sigh out, like it's simple, an exchange between lovers; like he's the man you once loved, not the shattered remnants of him; like you aren't dangerously close to the biomechanical half-God nearly responsible for the subjugation of humanity. You sit pretty on the Arcane Herald's lap, perfectly designed to be coveted.

You laugh, half-amused, half-in-disbelief. Viktor's featureless gaze bores into you, echoes of light glittering on his golden, spiked crown. He tilts his head, curious. As if he's asking, What's wrong?

"I have an otherworldly threat to all of Runeterra in my fucking apartment," You answer, exhaling. "Gods."

His voice pounds inside the fabric of your thoughts.

"TO BE PRECISE, YOUR MIND IS LINKED WITH A THREAT TO THE FUTURE OF RUNETERRA, WHICH EMPOWERS YOU TO COMBINE WITH HIM INSIDE THE ARCANE."

"Ah. We're tangled up in a cavity of magic?"

"YES."

"I wasn't sure if it was…" You shrug, and reobserve the space around you. Magic pulses from every angle, smearing color in messy brushstrokes. It begins to burn your eyes the longer you look. "I don't know. Some sort of illusion, I suppose."

Viktor hesitates, burning eyes flickering faintly. "ARE YOU… ALRIGHT WITH THIS OUTCOME? WOULD YOU PREFER IF WE DID NOT CONTINUE?"

You shake your head, smiling. "Come here."

You reach for him. You're holding his face in both palms, as if he's a statue, porcelain and intricate. A stone-carved, cherubic effigy. Markings dot either side of where he's been split. Small, star-shaped divots. One beneath an eye, another above a mouth.

With how large he is, you have to prop yourself up more to let your breath ghost the space between his eyes. The main cross-section of his mask is cool, as smooth as solid steel, while his hidden first-face is rough, rigid. Reminiscent of crumbling marble.

You kiss him. Gods, you kiss him and Viktor can feel it, even though such a thing shouldn't be possible. You press your lips to the star beneath his false, forever-closed eye, and it glints like amethyst, shimmers like a constellation. You pepper kisses to the gold etchings underneath his sun-strong gaze, where his tears were once midas-touched.

Viktor is sure his blasphemous, forged-by-violence form does not deserve this, but he still leans into your touch when your lips trail pleasurable arcane-abundant explosions down the golden veins of his neck.

"LITTLE DOVE..." Endearment clicks through the steady gear-sequence of his reverberant tone.

Starry pupils unchanging, Viktor's gaze can only regard you emptily. But, in an expression of tenderness, he drags his huge palm up your bare side, caresses your soft skin and admires the subtle intricacies of your flesh. Your birthmarks, your scars. Everything he still remembers. The curve of your waist, the section of your ribs. He feels your fingertips, as you trace where the gears of his back brace are permanently fused to his breastbone. Viktor trembles, somehow.

"Vik," You parrot, words warm on his neck. You kiss his nape, then his jaw, then the flat faux-steel of his face.

Energy radiates off of his touch in persistent waves. His palm paths up your spine, and surges of death-defying magic fill you — tenacious, resurrection-burned electricity.

You make yourself tall, propping up onto your knees, so you can gently press your forehead to his. Viktor scans your expression. Your eyes flutter shut; he wants to preserve their softness the way one would pin a fragile butterfly's wings. Once again, you aren't carrying a hint of trepidation. When your gaze finds his own, you're admiring him. In all of his chilling, daunting, inhuman glory.

Some faint, gnawing contradiction opens a hole in Viktor's chest, and makes him wish he would've done anything to deserve it.

"THE OUTCOMES LAID BEFORE ME…" Viktor begins; your persistent breaths leave fog on his cold mask.

"THE OPPORTUNITIES DEFINING WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN… I THINK… TOGETHER, WE COULD HERALD A NEW VISION. WE CAN BE THE AUTHORS OF OUR OWN TENDER PURPOSE."

A small smile plays on your lips. You wrap your arms around his shoulders. "I'd follow you anywhere, Vik. I trust you." Your jaw grits. I still trust you.

And then, you sigh. "But can we just be us? Just for tonight?"

Viktor buries what he truly wishes to say in between his makeshift ribs and beneath the star-filled madness in his core. And what are we?

"OF COURSE," He answers, instead.

His huge hand finds your own; arcane-infused power ripples from his palm, untamed. Still, your digits fit perfectly between the gaps of his, as Viktor laces your uneven fingers together. Strong, with weak. Your gentle flesh, and his rigid, purple-gold, bony digits.

He gives your hand a soft squeeze, brushes his thumb along the back of your palm to a wave-like rhythm.

"I HAVE LONGED FOR THIS. TO INDULGE IN YOUR COMPANY. TO UNITE YOUR MIND WITH MINE."

More so, Viktor has craved to remember the shape of your touch; and converging with the arcane has filled him with a knifelike sensation, unrelenting and hungry; it's given him an insatiable desire to consume.

(Viktor recalls when he first held you, your body curled up against his, his unnaturally long limbs awkwardly spread so the both of you could fit on the ragged couch in your tiny living room. The distant hum of both twin cities fills the space: huffing pipes, whirring airships. Back then, a large living space wasn't deemed necessary, considering the two of you planned to spend most of your shared time at the lab.

It's achingly intriguing — your persistent attachment to a dead man's belongings. You've been watering his plants, in his absence. Small pots of succulents and flora line the kitchen windowsill. A spare cane leans against the dining room table, still exactly where he left it. Viktor — the arcane-enthralled Viktor — thumbs through his newfound grip on your mind, listening closely for the echoed answer.

Your distant thoughts murmur to him, It's because it makes me believe you might still be coming home.

The Arcane Herald feels his third arm twitch. He says, I do not understand.

You crane your neck, unaware, glancing at him from where your head leans against his forearm. Understand what?

Why you continue, why I can remain an object of your affections. Viktor twists a small anomaly sphere between his fingers, webs of the arcane clinging to his gold-tipped digits. Stray flecks of magic spark like lightning. You consider how it'll feel when he must press this sphere inside your mind.

I am not the man I once was, he says. Perhaps some would describe me as… inhuman. A monster. Your mind reveals you have dwelled on such rumors, yet you show no fear.

You answer simply, Because it's you, Viktor. I could never be afraid of you.

Viktor considers this, as your fragile emotions pool within him — he curls in on himself at the bottom of the ocean, drowning in the midst of all that you are. An endless surge of affection and guilt and voracity, in hues of blossom-pink and cold-silver and delicious-orange.

He gazes at you calmly, before the anomaly sphere fizzles out of existence with a flick of his fingers.

There is perhaps… a less painful method of transmitting the arcane. Shall I explain?)

You clumsily squeeze Viktor's large hand back, and a sharp jolt of magic resoundingly kisses your skin. When you reach above you, cupping his face in your free palm, Viktor nuzzles into your touch like a giant contented cat, the thrum of the arcane gently purring from him.

He caresses from your side to your spine, numb digits pressing tenderly to vertebrae. You're acutely aware of how large his palm is. How huge the Arcane Herald is compared to you, how pathetically small and stupidly human you must look in his lap. You swallow hard, arching into his touch.

Gods, you've missed Viktor more than anything. You want to be his. You want the Arcane Herald to covet you in the blasphemous way a fallen angel loves a mortal. Without reason, with sets of six broken wings and bitten tongues and storms of chaotic maelstroms, as you make a mockery of what he was made for.

"Viktor," You breathe, tone low, as though whispered beneath an altar. Arcane demigod, my archangel. "I need you."

Viktor lifts you with ease, both of his hands finding your waist, propping you above his lap. He supports your weight as you drown him in kisses, pressing your lips to the statuette side of his face.

His voice laps against the sides of your mind, like waves against a dock in a storm's aftermath.

"I NEED YOU MORE THAN MERE EMOTION COULD EXPRESS. BUT THIS BODY IS… UNCONVENTIONAL. I DO NOT WISH TO BREAK YOU."

"I'm not fragile, Vik. I can take it. I want to take you."

At this, his eyes seem to soften, sharpen. Radiant suns filled with pure warmth, utter zeal.

Third arm tilting, bending at its metallic joints with a dull cracking sound, he grabs your face in his huge, firm claw.

His tone echoes, seraphic. "PERHAPS YOU SHOULD BEGIN BEGGING, THEN."

And you do. You whine softly when Viktor's large palm squeezes your leg, his thumb teasingly rubbing your inner thigh — your voice threatens to break, while you recite scripture. "Please, please, don't tease me anymore. I fucking need you, Viktor…"

It's easy, simple, instant — the calculation the Arcane Herald effortlessly solves, enabling him to immediately determine a new course of action, a mirror to your potent emotions.

He watches you pant, purposefully waits with his palm gently caressing your thigh, until you're sufficiently teased, and practically shaking with want. Viktor's third arm digs its pointed talons into your cheeks. He dips a hand between your legs, and promptly shifts into utter depravity.

"SUCH A DELIGHTFUL MESS YOU HAVE MADE FOR ME…" Viktor coos; he uses his gold-tipped thumb to collect your glistening arousal, to get you dripping and dumb on his long, delicate digits. You tremble hard, knees wavering like branches ready to split in the wind. "YOU GIVE IN SO EASILY TO INSATIABILITY, MY LITTLE LOVE."

Words won't come. You can only whine: "Viktor…"

And Viktor's reconstructed body tenses, every emotionless inch of him caught in your equinox. He can feel the pitter-patter of your heart, the thump of your warmth, resounding throughout his viscera; your sun, to his night.

Despite the limitations of his newly metamorphosed form, and the utter clearing of his mind, he's getting off to this. To the quiver in your breath and the way you plead his name — pleading for him. All for him.

"I CAN FEEL YOUR DESPERATION." Viktor's voice is everywhere, echoing against the boundaries of the anomaly. His familiarly accented tone chips at the walls of your mind with a delicately honed chisel. He flicks his thumb over where you're swollen and desperate and oh-so sensitive. There's stars in his touch, as he rubs in slow circles, in smooth galaxy swirls.

Now, says the whispering echo, the sweet outline, the caress of Viktor's kindest tone against your brain. How do you wish to be taken?

"Anything-" You retort, breathless. "You can do anything you want to me."

The Arcane Herald's resounding laugh is nothing short of maniacal.

"YOU ARE SUCH A NEEDY CREATURE. ABSOLUTELY EAGER TO BE FILLED."

Needy. This word sounds exceedingly saccharine.

His third arm acts with a mind of its own, squeezing your face a bit tighter. Lightly shaking your head back and forth as if you're a toy. The sharp end of a claw playfully traces your puffy bottom lip.

"WE COULD MAKE USE OF THIS SILKEN, PLIANT MOUTH. KNEES BENT BEFORE ME, MY PALM STEADIED TO YOUR THROAT AS I SLIDE MYSELF ONTO YOUR AWAITING TONGUE. YES?"

"Y-Yeah," You find it hard to focus, hard to think, hard to keep your eyes steady on his mechanical gaze — were his pupils always such perfect, artificial, phoenix-bright circles? "But I want- want you inside. Please."

Viktor hums a rich, pleased noise. He spreads his long legs a bit wider, the anomaly begins to flutter around you in endless cosmic spirals; a thrum, thrum, thrum of restless magic; Viktor's cock unfurls, curls out from his pelvis as a thick, rippling, dripping mess —

But he keeps your gaze focused on his own, clawed third arm holding your chin tightly.

"EVERYTHING YOU COULD POSSIBLY DESIRE, YOU WILL HAVE." Energy surges from his form, careens up the tingly river of your spinal column, in turn. "I WOULD CROSS GALAXIES AND REALITIES FOR YOU, MY DEAR. I WOULD BRING THE GODS TO THEIR HEELS."

Eager pressure mounts in every corner of your nervous system. You swear under your breath.

Once his third arm finally releases you, your gaze is trailing downwards. Past the delicate curve of his waist, live-wire magic threading through the indents of his body like visible veins. Past the V shape of his pelvis, and the unnaturally jutting handlebar-edges of his hip bones.

To be anatomically correct, the Arcane Herald's cock is most akin to a thick, wet tentacle. It's ribbed with gold ridges like the rest of his body, bolts and gear-shaped ornaments lining the underside in place of where octopus-suckers might be. A slimy, clear liquid thickly coats its surface. The appendage is thin at the end, the very tip as thin as your pinkie finger, but at the base, it gets twice as thick as your forearm.

"Hah," You gasp, too dumbfounded to breathe more than a disbelieving huff, "Shit-"

"WE WILL PROCEED AT YOUR PACE," Oh. The booming echo behind his tone sweetens itself into madness, and what's left of his voice sounds utterly affectionate. Nervous, only slightly. "I DO NOT WISH TO… FRIGHTEN, NOR HURT YOU. YOU MAY TAKE AS MUCH OR AS LITTLE AS YOU NEED."

"I want you," You're answering, assured. "Right now."

Viktor tightens his hold on your waist.

Arcane resurrection hasn't merely made him anew. It isn't a mere matter of placing a puzzle back where it belongs: the pieces of his amber eyes, his sinews, his skin dotted with little brown stars. He is a different form of alchemy, all together.

How much of him is still him, and how much is lost due to Hexcorization?

He imagines prying himself open, pulling apart his ribcage after the arcane left him raw, chewed up and spat back out. The cavity of his chest shimmers like the mouth of a kaleidoscope; he knows this, it wouldn't be the first time he's been split in two. He'll place these newfound emotions right where his heart should be, until they sing in runic shades. Until they sprout and flower: his personal, tender contradiction.

Would he remember who he once was — who you've truly been waiting for, then?

There lies the truth of it. He wants to give you everything you've been waiting for.

As he begins to lower you down, you feel the end of his cock flick against your entrance. Lavender-hued fluid laps against you, diligently getting you slick and slimy. You can't help but close your eyes, boneless as you hug him tightly, collapsing against his large, all-encompassing form.

Gravity warps around you, it presses into your skull. Viktor gently pushes you back by your shoulder until your gaze is forced to meet his own. His third arm clicks. A halo of shimmering sparks and glowing symbols and precise code begins to frame him, demanding in the way it hungrily commands the anomaly's magnetism into itself.

Carefully, his palm is placed onto your cheek. Gazing down at you, he caresses your skin with his thumb. As if you're made of velvet, a soft blossom on the wind.

"LOOK AT YOU," The Arcane Herald purrs. The anomaly shimmers, your mind warps; and for a brief moment, you're a distant observer, gazing at yourself and Viktor from an outside perspective. Gods, Viktor is huge, and you, bare and pliant on his lap, look so terribly pathetic.

"SUBLIME," Viktor corrects, head tilted inquisitively. The connection between your mind and his strains like a knot pulled taut. "YOU ARE PERFECT. VERITABLY GLORIOUS."

He grasps your chin, his free palm presses flat to the center of your chest. Your eyes glaze over, shifting into empty spotlights of stormy stardust — and you're seeing through Viktor's eyes, your head swimming as you're made to admire yourself.

Everything is covered in a film of murky, iridescent light. The edges of your figure are sharpened and saturated. Viktor doesn't see in color, more than he perceives an image as flowing droplets of static-rich energy, of equations surrounded by blooming halation. Diamond-shaped artifacts settle in the boundaries of his compound vision, reminiscent of the pattern on the rim of the Hexgates, or the matrix used to spark a Hexgem to life, or the configuration that gleams all around you: the anomaly, breathing in constellations.

Viktor watches as the lithe tip of his cock ever-so gently presses in — and you're watching, too, observing the spread of your shaky thighs, and the heave of your chest as he presses his palm between your ribs. You are captivating, in this way. Beautiful. All of your details create a painted picture of perfect tandem. Your shape, your skin, your hair, your eyes, your everything.

Or perhaps Viktor's thoughts are too closely entwined with your own. Splendid little human. All mine. Can you see why I adore you?

With how fucking thick he is, and how unexpectedly small you're realizing you look, in comparison — is he even going to fit?

You're barely given time to consider. You whine when you feel the first ridge, a tiny gear-shape embedded into his tip; with your bottom-lip quivering, you realize you don't need to beg, you just need to imagine. I want more, you think, and Viktor, buried deep in the threads of your mind, obliges.

More, you're given more; you watch through his vision as his cock begins to ease inside you, a sizable bulge already pressing at your lower stomach. He splits you open, nice and slow, so you can get used to the way he fills you.

And even though you barely have a third of the fat, writhing tentacle inside of you, you're already utterly full. It flicks and convulses, exploring your walls, slickening your thighs with droplets of glowing, purple spend. You can feel every ridge. The ribbed, golden rings. The protruding bolts. The four-pointed star-shaped studs.

Gods.

You're throbbing. Thudding around him to a heartbeat-strong pulse that beckons him in and pleads for the wraith-like Arcane Herald to fuck you. To ruin you.

"BREATHE FOR ME," Viktor murmurs. He pulls his hand from your chest to softly brush his knuckles over your jaw, and you slam back into your own mind with the force of a thunderbolt. "YOUR PLIABLE SOUL… IT FLICKERS LIKE AN EVANESCENT FLAME."

Light prickles from where his touch once lingered, sparking against your chest. Gasping, you glance down. An imprint of him is left behind on your skin. Five large fingerprints sprawled between your ribs, one for each finger and thumb, textured with web-like strands, shimmering when they catch the radiant light. The soft, golden whispers of the arcane. The Herald of the Arcane's signature.

With this tangible mark, you belong to him, now.

Viktor answers your thoughts. "YOU ALWAYS HAVE."

Always. Though, within the space he has carved for the both of you — reality split apart, a dissected capsule — you are closer to your lover's husk than you've ever been before.

You hold onto Viktor's shoulders tightly, grabbing fistfuls of his tattered cape. There's a persistent hum. Building magic, a whirlpool around you, a supernova in his body; warmth settles in your core, winter in your bones. Energy ripples through his cock in a long wave, firmly throbbing inside you, and you shudder, you shake.

"EXQUISITE… YOU ARE PERSISTING SO EXCELLENTLY. SO GOOD FOR ME…" Viktor caresses a palm up your side in approval. The glowing flames in his gaze begin to soften. He holds you steady, as your warmth eagerly pulses around a little under half of him.

"I can feel- hhah, it's so much…" Your words break, unsteady and weakened.

You, for all of the confidence Viktor knows you have, are reduced to a sputtering, needy mess, quivering on his cock. Delicate as a thin sheet of autumn ice.

The Arcane Herald must admit, he enjoys this pathetically docile side to you. He wants to keep it, possess it, until you're his. Only his.

"YOUR BODY IS NOT ACCUSTOMED TO THIS ABUNDANCE OF ARCANE INFLUENCE. ALLOW YOURSELF TO BECOME LESS RIGID. PERFECT. BREATHE DEEPLY. I HAVE YOU."

You take in deep, controlled breaths, while a large palm begins to drag up your heaving side.

Viktor touches you the way Icarus once touched the sun; an inventor against destiny, soft, fake feathers and warm wax. He is a monsterous imitation of heaven, too.

He hardly cares if he's burning on the inside, if the Hexcore's diagram defines his biology as unwarmable, untouchable. Just for tonight, he wants to be some devout imitation of humanity, a metallurgical replica that comes to life under warmth and love, not a profane shell hollowed by the lack of it. Just for tonight, he'll let himself be weak for you.

Breath nearly caught, you lean your forehead into his chest, and you're unable to resist pressing a reverent kiss to the golden outline that frames his breastbone. His brace, forever welded into his thorax. It's unexpectedly smooth, sensitive. Faint spellbinding threads brush your lips like wind.

Viktor isn't yet a God, but he wonders if this is what it's like to be worshipped.

Crests of magic exhale around you, frothing waves of brilliance, as if he's expelled a steady sigh. He grasps your side firmly. You're dizzy, golden rays of light filling your gaze, before they thin — and you realize you're somewhere else, viewing the beginnings of a vision.

Galaxies stretch as far as the eye can see. An infinite expanse of everything. Shooting stars and divine light ripple through the atmosphere. You're cupped in a giant palm — in Viktor's giant palm, his cosmic form a refracting rainbow, an angel with astral wings. Viktor is the sun and the stars and the moons and the asteroids. You are safe, content. Designed for reverence, the perfect piece to his orbit. And so, you revere.

The vision fizzles into nothing when the clasp of your hands makes the endless, starry abyss flutter with fondness.

Viktor glides his palm down, finding your waist. In his wake, your side is softly seared with his fingerprints.

Another dream lets itself in.

This one is… different.

Tender blades of sunlight burn around the figure that resembles Viktor; a memory, a representation. (A large, arcane-touched palm to your back.) The Viktor you once knew has moonlight-pale skin and a bobbing Adam's apple and a gap between his teeth when he smiles. You always grow soft with the sight of his smile. (A hand to your shoulder. The small of your back. Your neck. Your stomach.)

Recollections flicker inside your brain like flipping through an old photo album. Delicate palms fit with worn calluses, and freckled arms made to be kissed, and hair you dreamt of running your fingers through, soft and wild like chestnut sparrow feathers. He is blinding starlight, even in the moments where he's been made to shatter like glass. Even with fiery amber in his eyes and blood on his palms and a chrysalis, surrounding.

You picture trailing your lips over both legs, from his thighs to his knees to his ankles. You picture pressing your teeth to the bony curve of his clavicle. You picture kissing and kissing and kissing him, a moth to his flame, the kindling to his spark. His lips are soft, his tongue presses a star into your mouth, and you honestly don't care what's become of him because he is still Viktor, your Viktor —

By the time the Arcane Herald is done reaching into your mind, imprints of his fingertips are left all over you. You're absolutely covered in golden fingerprint-blotches. Light dappling your skin from his firefly touch, like the glow of the sun between leaves.

Viktor tilts you towards him by your chin. "YOU ARE WHY HUMANITY ONCE CREATED DIVINITY. I ADORE YOU."

His voice dips into a tone you almost remember. Soft, gentle, human.

You offer him a crooked smile, canines bared. You're breathing hard again, hips impatiently shifting. "You're so, s-so lovely, Viktor. You are. I want to see you. Just like this. Just as you are."

Viktor's gaze briefly flicks across your form. He admires the sheen of sweat on your skin, newly marbled with marks, his touch. Proof of his selfishness, his illogical tenderness. Your soul appears to burn steadily within you. A bright flame in ocean-deep shades of blue and silver and jellyfish-purple. Persistent like the click of gears, as smooth as the glide of a pen, hazy like ash in a misty, bright sky. Perfectly, utterly you.

"ARE YOU CERTAIN?" Viktor asks. The repetition and ricochet of his voice is noticeably just a hint quieter. He gently glides his palm over the marks on your side, arcane ornaments decorating your bare skin. "I COULD SHOW YOU SO MUCH MORE."

"I'm sure." You sound desperate. "You're perfect."

Only for you, Viktor reasons. Only in the lingering afterimage of your gentle influence.

Affection swells in his hollow center. The same shape as when he first saw you, when he finally came home and held you in his arms, while he analyzed the glimmers in your mind of hope and love. And a distinct lack of fear; you trust him, for all of his godlessness. For all of his endless, infinite loneliness.

As foolishly feeble and perhaps impossible as it is, Viktor honestly, achingly wants to kiss you.

Like a sunrise. Mouths touching like a bite into responsive, begging flesh. Perhaps while you taste his starlight, or perhaps with no need to subdue this new form: the arcane-touched chimera he's evolved into.

My softest paradox. For the betterment of the purpose the arcane chose for me, perhaps I should renounce these frivolous emotions. And yet… No, I cannot abandon you. Not when you are in need of me. Not when I need you.

Droplets of anomaly-moisture, as well as condensation caused by the sex-slick heat in between your bodies cascades down Viktor's golden accents, making them shimmer. He slowly shifts to hold your cheek in one giant, careful palm. Sparks of faint light stipple from his touch like fireworks.

In a hurry, you prop yourself up as much as you can manage. You grab his face to pull him closer, his body bending to meet you, so you can press breathless kisses to his cold jaw.

With the way the Arcane Herald is buried inside you — a result of his wavering focus, or maybe your own — the anomaly's aurora-light begins to morph, a shaken-up snowglobe. His cock pulsates with a glowing swell of stimulation. You grind your hips clumsily, groaning against the sunken curve of his false cheek as you lightly bounce on the fat, dripping tentacle. It resounds with a terribly wet, obscene sound, purple liquid now dripping all the way down to your knees.

Allowing your mind to interlace with his is, at this point, purely instinctual. The tightly knit walls of Viktor's headspace purposefully weaken to let you in.

Oh, and his mind surges.

You're enveloped in a raging wildfire, his desire a flickering flame at the very edges of your fingertips. It's hard to breathe. Hard to form coherent thoughts as the Hexcore — Viktor's new heart — whispers within every facet of him. It amplifies his own inclinations, works concurrently to augment his magic and strengthen his cognition. You aren't used to its overwhelming pull. Your thoughts and his and the arcane's potent echo meld together, like several messy brush strokes on the same canvas.

Please, you plead. Pure pleasure and gnawing endearment thrum from Viktor's discordant thoughts, with the strength of a laser beam to your brain matter.

You deserve to hold the solar system in your palms. He'd give you the planets and their rings and the kiss of the stars; you are his perfect, exquisite catalyst.

The Hexcore replies, writes its own poem, to the tune of humming runes and swirls of hazy imagery: you, on your knees. You, with your tongue wrapped around Viktor's fingers. Viktor tipping your head up with the end of his cane, or slipping his palms down your collar, or sinking his teeth into your nape. Viktor's newfound, huge body pinning you into place, while he presses the claw of his contorted third arm to the base of your neck. His large, ornamented hand splays across your back, leaving fingerprint-wings on the skin between your shoulder blades as he roughly pounds you from behind.

Your eyes roll back into your skull.

Oh, but this is what lies within your unveiled desires, says the jeering echo in your head. Resounding, shattering, Viktor's softly accented tone unfurls into a meadow of a hundred voices, speaking all at once. Will you be satisfied when your mouth is full of me? When you are grinding your feeble hips against your hand, your palm filthy and wet, while you sputter and pathetically drool around the luminescent mess of my spend? Of course. You are quite simple to please.

Or perhaps I should push you underneath me, pleasure myself and myself alone with the assistance of your thighs, or your stomach, until you are begging for me to take you. To ease inside you, filling where you are terribly neglected and utterly wanting. Admittedly, I would find contentment in this… watching you plead. Until your skin becomes marked with slick fractals. The most potent brush of the arcane.

"Vik- Viktor, please…"

Can you feel-

"I CAN FEEL HOW WARM YOU ARE," Viktor murmurs, interrupting your thoughts. You rest your arms on his shoulders, searching for leverage as you grind your hips down. "I CAN SENSE YOUR EAGERNESS. YOUR VULNERABILITY. HOW YOUR MIND, BODY, AND SOUL BEG FOR ME IN SYNCHRONIZATION."

Despite relinquishing his humanity with the acceptance of his new body, the way a cicada sheds its exoskeleton — despite embodying a dangerously corrupted representation of life; (praying mantis, disguised as the orchid) — despite the truth of the matter, he was meant to dismantle you piece by piece, he was designed for control and gloriousness and revolution, Viktor thinks, softly, that he'd gladly follow where you lead.

An old, once-loved name is nothing more than an emotional foible. A thread he held onto, because it happens to fit his whims, happens to mean victory. But Viktor feels radiance in his chest when you begin panting for him, gasping out pleas of Viktor, Viktor, Viktor, framed by broken noises as you fuck yourself on him.

It's so wet. There's so much arousal and thick purple lubricant between the two of you. Squelching and dribbling down the golden accents of his length.

Gods, you're trembling on his lap, hands shaking as you grip his shoulders. The ripples of your thoughts are a soft melody, in his. I need you. Need you to save me. He would, without question. He'd hold you to his skeleton until your bones are a part of his bones. He wants to catch you in silken thread and arcane-webbing, while he sinks sharp fangs into your skin.

It happens swiftly, now —

Viktor's jaw unhinges with the sickening sound of breaking bones. The bottom half of his mask splits down the middle, opens horizontally to reveal an abyss, a black hole; a giant maw with rows of sharp teeth, two large, curved canines, and a long, slithery tongue. Forked like a snake, golden at the tip, gradienting into a dark shade of raven-purple. It drips with a sheen of thick saliva.

A firm palm grasps your chin. He pulls you a bit closer, until you're straining your neck to look up at him. Your heartbeat catches. The burning suns of his blank pupils bore into your own fluttery gaze. Both tips of his tongue brush your lips. Politely prying, before possessively slipping into your mouth.

You moan when his tongue licks a heavy stripe over yours, kissing you in earnest. The taste of him as he explores your mouth is all-encompassing. Strong, vibrant, he tastes like nebula and void. Like crimson and moonlight. Ever-so slightly metallic, akin to licking aluminum, like pressing your lips to a supernova.

His saliva is thick and pervasive. His tongue is unmistakably slimy; you whimper, and when you swallow, allowing the bitterness to slide down your throat, Viktor breathes a deep, satisfied noise — like the rumble at the bottom of the ocean.

Divinely transcendental, his voice continues to resound inside your mind.

"GOOD PET. YOU ARE UNEQUIVOCALLY GOOD FOR ME." Viktor laps against your tongue, both forks trapping it before they teasingly graze your canines. You swear light glints on his sharpened maw, and his faux mouth upturns slightly, faded star-mole following along, and he's just barely smiling.

"SO FASCINATING, WHEN YOU BECOME THIS EXCITABLE."

You're shaking so hard, you've no need to move your hips.

Gently, Viktor's long tongue presses a bit farther, forcing faint gags from your trembling system. You're overwhelmed, placed between his gaze and his pulsing heat inside of you — and the way your mouth is utterly full of him. Your lips wrap around the thickest part of his tongue, his taste spilling into your throat: a warm knife, pure sharpness.

You beg with your eyes, pupils fat moon-pools. The colorful, surrounding anomaly satellite-pings approvingly.

"YOU ARE ON THE CUSP OF CRYING. HOW PRECIOUS. TELL ME, WHO IS IT THAT YOU BELONG TO?"

You, your head is rebounding. I'm all yours.

Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, a panicked butterfly trying to get free. Here, in the depths of your emotions, you crave to be devoured. To be held lovingly between his teeth, to have his searing, arcane-infused touch bruise your bones with his imprint. Pulling you apart, layer by layer — skin, muscle, soul.

You'd let him take you anywhere. You'd let him carve his golden-hued love into your marrow.

I will.

Pure endearment overfills his chasmic void, left where the Hexcore landed in his chest like a meteor.

Viktor collects these thoughts in a bottle, holds them somewhere close and contradictory:

Ah, my dear, where shall we go first? You have not seen the gilded sunset over the mountains in Shurima, nor the blossoming of the trees in Ionia. Runic teleportation is only strenuous on the mind the first time you experience it. I want to dance with you atop the highest, star-filled peak in all of Runeterra. If not in another life, perhaps we can still embrace this one.

"COME. SHOW ME, LITTLE LAMB." When Viktor finally pulls his tongue from your mouth, he's licking a fat stripe from your jaw to your cheek, leaving your skin slimy and cold. "I WISH TO SEE YOU BROUGHT TO PANTING, PLEASURABLE CHAOS."

His tongue curls back lazily, and his jaw snaps shut, leaving his masked, expressionless face behind. Viktor's head cocks, owl-like. You don't appreciate being taunted; your brows furrow, and you hurriedly reach up, grabbing onto the gold arches on either side of his face.

They're somewhat akin to antlers, handles. A crown. You've decided to refer to them as horns, either way. Smooth to the touch, and perfectly palm-shaped.

Viktor laughs, purrs. "YES, GIVE IN TO IMPULSE- TAKE WHAT YOU NEED FROM ME, FALL TO YOUR ENCOMPASSING EMOTIONS…"

So, you grind into him, breathing faster, holding on for leverage as you pathetically circle your hips. Viktor brushes his large palm up the small of your back, charting the map of tremors in your spine. You dig your nails into both golden horns, even though you're certain their firm surface won't give. Weakly, you exhale in frustration.

"Vik- I can't- I need you, please…"

That's all it takes.

Finally, finally, Viktor grabs your side and slowly thrusts into you.

Gods. Viktor must be a seraph, the arcane's depiction of the divine, tall and ornate and carved from steel; inhumanly angelic, a synthetic machine — because he feels absolutely heavenly.

The first arch of his body into yours has you gasping. The Arcane Herald, as attentive as he is resolute, methodically falls into your rhythm. He grinds up when you grind down, and you can suddenly feel him everywhere. You can't think through the pulse of his magic, the arcane fervently fucking into you; you can only fall against him, utterly limp.

"HOLD ONTO ME," Viktor murmurs. Head leant into his chest, you can feel his large body vibrating with the words — the thrum of his heart, the steady song of the Hexcore.

You're given a moment to catch your breath. You whimper a stuttered cacophony of words. Please. More.

Your thoughts are a crisp, babbling river Viktor longs to cup his palms into and drink from. More, more, more.

Such a filthy little creature, he rebounds, though he knows his current headspace is just as deplorable.

Viktor begins to fill you with all of him, easing you down so, so slowly — until you've taken all of the fat base of his cock. There's so much of him, and it's a slick, awfully tight slide when he starts to shallowly press in and out of you.

"AH-"

The anomaly wavers to the tune of his stutter.

"YOU FEEL… IMPOSSIBLY ADDICTIVE…" He groans, the sound deep, resonant. "ABSOLUTE PERFECTION… MY LITTLE LOVE, FULLY FILLED WITH ALL I HAVE TO GIVE THEM…"

The energized air around you blossoms with green flora, golden blooms. You sob in delight. You can practically feel him in your stomach.

Honestly, you weren't sure what Viktor was deriving from this, if his new form could feel anything at all — but right now, he sounds completely wrecked.

Not that you're any better.

All you can do is grab fistfuls of his cape, as the Arcane Herald guides you, ruins you. His hand firmly presses into the soft flesh of your side. He's so much larger, so much stronger. (Delicious contrast drips from this; Viktor remembers pressing your shapes together, fragile on fragile, your face held in his sweat-soaked palm as you run your fingers through his hair, and everything is blisteringly soft —)

For this Viktor, it's a simple, effortless task: the way he lifts you up and down to fuck you. Pulling you until you're taking half of his dripping length, only to fill you with its staggering thickness, enough for you to feel the friction of every ribbed ridge. Every golden bolt. You moan softly, and he smoothly bounces you, as though you weigh nothing.

Static encompasses your mind, like storm clouds rolling over. His cock curls, the tentacle writhing to bully a spot inside of you that has you seeing a spider web of constellations. Viktor huffs, every slight groan causing the rainbow-hued arcane to bubble around the two of you.

He slips out for a moment when he pounds you a bit too clumsily, the slick plap, plap giving way as he slides over your bare skin. Utterly wet, his cock flicks, laps at your sex. The tip traces V patterns and rune-shapes right where you're sensitive and throbbing. You drip for him, as expected. Needy. Empty, so desperate to be full of him again.

He caresses your head, leans into your mind to check on you. You've barely processed his ping of, Are you alright? before your thoughts are shaking him back and forth and pleading, Please, more.

In a simple, smooth movement, he eases back into you, pushing every ounce of air from your lungs.

Shooting stars shimmer in your peripheral, a candelabrum of bright, palpable tenderness. The Arcane Herald's hidden affections, on vivid, fireworking display. Viktor's third arm click-click-clicks, and a rune matrix halos him, blurry and blue.

You fuck each other desperately, then. Your broken moans meld with Viktor's electrifying, shuddering hum. You press against him with no distinct rhythm — and it's clear Viktor's resolve is faltering. A crack forming in the flawless shell of his facade. When you're involved in the equation, it's a feeble facade, really.

Because Viktor can't hide his softness, his lingering humanity, especially now, with plumes of earnest affection filling the very atmosphere that surrounds your shape. You breathe it in. Viktor's magic tastes like eternity. The chemistry of his endearment settles in your vessel, richly divine. He adores you. Has always adored you. Down to your soul, you've never known anything more true.

You pant his name in between each breath. You're so lost in him, so focused on finding your peak, you barely notice the accelerating glimmer in the runes above him. Twirling and ticking, their shapes jumbling together like spinning a globe and trying to imagine the place your finger will land on. They're bright enough to blind, if you were to look right at them.

Arousal drips down your thighs, dirties his lap with every slick squelch. Viktor's head spins — post-enlightenment, it should not be capable of such fatigue, and yet the fire behind his glowing eyes twirls in spirals.

His hands shake, the inner workings of his viscera aching with something innate. The Hexcore's budding urge to claim, to devour everything it touches like a long shadow. He loves this, loves bringing you pure pleasure to the point of speechlessness and bonelessness. Loves the auroras of affection and the disorderly waves of ecstasy that amalgamate in your mind. He wants to fill you over and over and over. There's a recursive impulse in his reassembled system that delights in the conceptualized tenderness.

It isn't logical. Sentimentality is far from glorious.

You should continue the life you have already established without him; he can help the lost souls of humanity without you, as he's done up until now. This makes sense. This is the path laid before him, the plan he was hoping to follow once he arrived here. Three simple, necessary steps. Visit you. Settle his reservations. Leave.

But it is terribly lonesome without your presence.

And as far as keeping you at arm's length is concerned, he's already failed, hasn't he?

If he asked, gave you the choice instead of running from it, would you wish to come with him?

Viktor imagines voyaging far from the bright skies of Piltover, and the dark depths of Zaun. Inhuman hand folded over soft hand, as he shows you what it means to step into a new reality.

Everything he has learned and seen sprawls before you, before him, an open map of endless possibilities. He dreams of soothing you to sleep beside a bright, homemade fire. Of bringing you to the edge of the world, or the top of the sky, or the boundary where the earth meets the sea, all with a singular arcane-flare from his staff. The crackle of flame, the hum of the wild. The crash of a waterfall, the echo of your breathing. Viktor will covet every individual intricacy; dragon coveting gemstones, sharp teeth and long talons and unblinking snake-eyes.

He's usually an embodiment of good luck, despite this. To some.

Those he has attempted to heal since he left Piltover tend to fear him. They cower, broken limbs shaking, broken hearts pounding fast. Sometimes they shout. Angel. Demon. God. Viktor is none of those things.

The Arcane Herald presses his fingertips to their foreheads, and watches golden thread knit them anew.

He could be content with this, he sometimes thinks. No grander goal. No overarching evolution. Just this path, paved by the thin shred of his retained humanity. A flourish of kindness in his soul that the arcane can't smother out. (His blanket-turned-cape, the brooch he wears over his chest, the golden notches in his spine. The same lines on his palms that you once kissed, and his own name; you've always loved the way it feels to say his name.)

Especially so, he believes he might've found what he was meant for, a bright glimmer to fill the space where his heart should be, when he pictures changing the world with you.

You've always been like a sunrise. Bright light and warmth, you would lead his way with your firefly-glow. Those he heals would find a new sense of comfort, as you place a steady hand to a tensed shoulder, the way you did with him so many years ago.

A man falls to his knees in front of him, and he shakes your hand, before he staggers away on his unsteady, golden legs. A young woman pleads, says a prayer to him as his runic halo illuminates the fresh fingerprints on her forehead. She embraces you tightly. Thank you, thank you. Viktor drums golden nails against his staff. A softened look crosses your face. It gets stamped in Viktor's brain with spellbound ink until it's completely memorized.

As you step inside the luminous ring of his teleportation circle, he gently grasps your hand to keep you steady. The surrounding light swirls. He holds your forearm, and pulls you close in something of a practiced dance.

You smile at him, his vivid muse. He admires you, unblinking. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles and kisses them with magic. The lilt in your tone is smooth like Janna's breath as you ask, Where to next?

It hardly matters. The persistent, void-like ache within him quiets down for the first time in an eternity. This kindness — yours, his — softly augments him so easily.

Viktor feels wholeheartedly content. A gnawing undertone, satiated. Anywhere, he thinks. Let us cross the universe in a single stride. Amateur astronomers, aren't we?

Together, you'll traverse the desert. The mountains. The sea. He'll carry you home when you're tired from the day's events. He'll stay in with you, even though the arcane calls him onward, even though he has no need to sleep like this, joining you as you rest well into the day.

His legs hang over the end of your small, temporary cot. Utterly out of place, his limbs are too long, the sheets catch on the gold ornaments around his ankles, and his third arm gets awkwardly pinned against the headboard. And when his purple-veined palm splays flat to your chest, slow whitecaps of energy cresting against your head to manifest a pleasant dream, Viktor notes the way you shiver. Breathy gasps uttered from your lips, please, don't go, as you press your feeble form against his.

In the end, he'd give you everything you desire.

This is exactly what you want — to have your oh-so human shape pressed beneath his, Viktor's monstrous gaze burning into you as you pathetically tremble. While he pins your wrists above your head with the sharp talons of his Hexclaw, and purrs so pleasantly when you pant with anticipation.

Nuzzling into the nape of your neck, everything impossibly close, he bathes you in his giant shadow, in the steady rays of his third arm's divine light. The silver ridges of his masked face are cool against your skin. He wants to spend hours upon days upon years marking his favorite details of yours with his fingertips; wax-warm prints on your hips, your back. Arcane-patterns embossed along your thighs and your stomach, polychrome like painting the cosmos across your bare skin.

Your imperfections were made to be admired. No, more accurately, you have always been perfect. There is nothing to fix nor change. You deserve everything, and so much more.

He wants you perfectly sated, softly panting his name every morning and night, each sunrise and sunset greedily spent in one another's company.

Light's first flecks appear on the horizon, alighting Ionia's quiet autumn trees in ichor-lucent shades. Arms and legs locked around him, rays glittering off of his gilded frame, you take Viktor inside of you in the comfort of your makeshift camp.

Dusk bleeds into night, and this time, you're stationed in a run-down inn somewhere north of Demacia.

There's a new form of illusory magic Viktor has been studying. A remnant in a supposedly Targon-sourced tome he bought for dirt cheap in a Bilgewater port.

Considering Viktor's appearance and especially his stature, it's difficult to travel through busy regions without heads turning. This magic particularly affects the mind. It allows you to finally stay at a decent inn for the first time in ages, under the guise of Viktor being your very human, very normal partner.

You are supposed to be a married couple. But if there was a noise complaint —

All this to say — Viktor imagines fucking you in a tiny room with a rickety bed that thumps when it hits the wall and creaks to protest his weight.

He barely fits, the tiny room and the even tinier bed clearly not made for his inhuman, nine-foot-something height; he has to cling to your body, pinning your back against his chest and your ass to his pelvis. The edges of his golden ribs press indents in between your shoulder blades. You look so pliant when you're under him; fully bare, utterly small. So very delightful. My adorable, perfect muse.

The moon is full. The glowing, runic halo above Viktor's head mimics the shimmering descent of the night's stars. The light from his eyes burns bright in the darkened room. Two steady, piercing flames. Shadows cast themselves onto the ceiling, framing his third arm, his horns, his crown. They twist and combine and resemble the outline of fluttery, umbral wings.

Teleporting the two of you would make things simple. Perhaps he could have you in an arcane vacuum, as he's done many, many times prior.

But it's awfully thrilling to cover your mouth with his large palm, to silently purr in your mind that you must be silent, my little dove, because his voice might shake the room with its unholy reverberation — while his impossibly large body pins you, and while he relentlessly fucks whimper after muffled whimper from your drooling lips.

Saliva slickens his purple-mottled fingers. Magic pools from his figure, bathes you in tingly radiance. The wrinkled sheets are drenched in sweat and slick and luminescent arcane-fluid. The inn's little room is filled with the Arcane Herald's huge body, his resplendent presence that dapples magic into the atmosphere, and the messy press of his shape against yours, the repeated, methodically wet echo.

Your swirling thoughts plead, please, touch me here, and Viktor does, exactly in the manner you like. Softly. Lovingly. Until you're swollen and sensitive and needy. A purple thumb greedily slips into your mouth, toying with your tongue. With your hazy cognizance bared to him, your mind diligently fucked open, he tastes your emotions; bites and swallows them whole.

You are beautiful, Viktor whispers into your brain. Sublime. Brilliant. Tenacious. Perfect.

They're premonitions, of course, but Viktor's imagination won't stop singing —

Your gaze, locked to his while you drown in his flame. Your heart, beating fast. Your soul, a blossom of delicate petals in his palm. He wants you on your knees. On your stomach. On your back. Heat pluming over his maw as he pins you to his face and laps at your dripping, sensitive sex with his long, slimy tongue. He wants to press his spend into your mouth with his fingers, wants to leave hallucinatory kisses across the sensitive skin of your nape.

(Kisses you can feel in an astral mind cavity, somewhere far away from here. This is who I am beneath the chrysalis. This is how I've always wanted to kiss you: with boundless desperation, pale palms to your cheeks, and soft mouth to softer lips, and starbursts to starlight. Implosions becoming the dust in space.)

He'll lace his fingers with yours when you kiss the star-moles on his false face. His large, deft hands will pleasure you in every which way while you chant his name, until your voice has gone sore. Viktor. A prayer, a plea, a vow coalescing. And the Arcane Herald will give you what you need, he will hold you and love you and show you everything you have always been worthy of.

He could take you in a moonlit Ionian hot spring, water splashing as you bounce on his lap, or in a cold cabin in the Freljord, bodies close as you exhale hot, shaky breaths, or just anywhere you could possibly want him.

Viktor wants to fuck you until his illogical, potent affection spells your neurons, your electrons, and every last letter of your memorized name.

Your breathing is ragged, now.

Reality dips back into his palm. The anomaly's shape curls into, into, into itself until it billows out in a cloud of miasma. You grind into his lap pathetically, barely in tune with his own steady thrusts. Every buck of his hips has become smooth, as measured as a metronome, while he stays focused on your building pleasure, on bringing you to your budding collapse.

It takes all of your effort to fumble your hands into his chestnut hair, your feeble fingers grabbing on tight. The strands are wild and grown out, starting to fleck with a breeze of blonde. They're soft, even still. You whimper, you let yourself be manhandled, bounced so easily on his lap — so perfect for him, so worthy of his endless adoration.

"F-Fuck," Your muscles go tense; your voice breaks as he presses right there, grinds and slowly drags you onto him to draw out the throbs of pleasure into deep, warm tempests. "Viktor, don't- don't stop-"

There's potency to the way you say his name, igniting a lingering, desperate instinct or an arcane-induced ripple effect; Viktor's cock swells into fullness, the tentacle's fat, ribbed ridges bullying your sweet spots. It drips with sopping wet pre-lubricant, pumps more preparative slickness into you, in turn; it flutters with chameleon-light, thin electrical currents surging from tip to base in shifting hues of glowing purple to lightning blue.

"GUIDING YOU TO UNRAVEL FOR ME IS UTTER ECSTASY." Viktor coos, his accent thick, tone stupidly sweet and possessive. Echoing in your ears until he's the only thing you can hear.

He drives himself into you, purposefully nice and deep. A disgustingly loud groan is coaxed from your panting mouth.

"OH… LOOK AT YOU. TREMBLING. TERRIBLY CLOSE TO AN ABSOLUTE IMPLOSION."

You are dazzling. A precious, desperate mess due to my touch… and only my touch. I will bring you to enlightenment in the manner only I can.

"SO GOOD TO ME, YES? YOU ARE… EXQUISITE. AS PERFECTLY DIVINE AS YOU WERE WHEN WE FIRST BECAME DIVIDED. YOUR MAGNIFICENCE IS… MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN EVERYTHING I HAVE SPENT YEARS REMEMBERING."

I have missed you more than anything in every reality, my dearest.

You deserve to be taken care of, to be filled and admired and held in every way you need — and Viktor shudders through the salty brine of guilt, because he knows he left you waiting and wanting for far, far too long.

It won't happen again.

He holds you as you arch up, his palm instantly finding the small of your back as you make it as straight as you can manage. Your unsteady palms opt to abruptly hold his face and pull him close. Close enough to let his head press to yours.

Even with your eyes closed, his unfeeling sun-pupils blaze behind your brain like pockets of wildfire.

Gods. If he could, he would keep this moment close. A sheathed weapon ready for his right hand, a crux and a complex conundrum. So he will always, always remember how it feels to adore you.

Finding the next best solution, Viktor contradicts all that he is, mirroring your touch. Holding your small face in his own large palms, as though you're precious, his, with enough pure tenderness to capsize you.

"YOU SIMPLY DO NOT KNOW HOW INVALUABLE YOU ARE TO ME… NOR HOW YOU REPRESENT TRUE RADIANCE-" Viktor stutters, it nearly sounds like a sigh, "A GLITTERING STAR MORE PERFECT THAN ANY GALAXY I HAVE FELT AT MY FINGERTIPS…"

Forehead to forehead, pace never faltering, he takes you tenderly, steadily; gently perfect friction fills you with carnality and drowns out all else. You grit your canines. Viktor brushes his palm to your jaw, his thumb over your cheek. Pleasure runs rampant in his shaky hands and the full-on quiver of the anomaly's thinning edge.

The warmth behind his eyes seems to glaze over. A low noise purrs from him that mimics a set of shaking breaths, golden, gill-like ridges on his neck falling open. Puffing plumes of thickly frosted air, like exhaling in the dead of winter.

For the briefest of moments, in the weakening softness of the arcane, you can sense the aurora of how this feels for him.

You are warm, perfect. Your frame shakes like a baby bird, delicate flame, to his fallen-angel maelstrom. Mind unfurling. Minds melding. You adore him in every shape, strong or weak or in any chimeral form he wishes to take. Viktor relishes this. Tastes it with a swipe of his tongue over teeth. You sense it just the same. A strand curling, knotting. Becoming one.

Everything the Arcane Herald feels sunbeams into him tenfold. Pleasure frantically shivering inside every violently reconstructed atom. Devotion sunflowering out from his wilted-rose center, overflowing and filling the void of his frame. It's so much, too much. Affection strong like getting kissed all over, like worship. (Viktor's gentle mouth and his starlit hands and the way he falls to his knees before you without prompting.) Akin to holding a prayer in one's palms, until knuckles ache and skin splits apart.

Love is all you can taste, sense. In its purest, most concentrated, most overwhelming form.

"Close," You manage to pant. Your breath fans over his face and Viktor leans just a bit closer, until your soft lips are grazing the smooth metal. "Vik- please, please, please."

You're begging like there's even a singular shred of him that would deny you. He won't. He doesn't.

"MY BELOVED." A lilt falls into his tone, a loving refraction that kisses your eardrums over and over again. "LET GO. YOU ARE ALL MINE."

Viktor bounces you smoothly; he reaches down, finds where you're sensitive and throbbing and circles his deft, magic-rich fingers there.

I would break the world in two for you. Fruit split down the middle, as I feed you the lush flesh within. I want you to know you are loved, as your heart knows to beat, and darkness knows to encircle light, and emotion knows to tether itself to a soul.

Energy dances up your spine, a deep purple glow emanates from beneath Viktor's veins; the Hexcore's glowing insides, light glinting off of a chasm of amethyst. He can feel it, your sensitivity, your eagerness. Threading within him, a pinwheel turning, and building, building, building.

No, perhaps it's his eagerness. A lingering disruption on the heels of his resurrection, because he was promised freedom from humanity, but he cannot erase the memories that shape him. Because he spent ages in that fucking cocoon with every ache the arcane has ever felt winding beneath his skin: the pain of existence, the pain of overuse, the penchant for a wild rune to corrupt itself into oblivion.

Viktor hasn't been touched by anything other than pain since the arcane decided such sensations are less than glorious. Inessential. Unnecessary.

You curl your palm around the sensitive, slightly ticklish base of his neck, fingernails scrambling to dig into the ridges of golden ornaments. You brush your lips between his tear-marked eyes with purpose. As the numbness begins to fade and the light within him starts to flourish, constellations becoming galaxies — your touch is so perfectly soft it threatens to hurt.

It's exquisite catharsis. The arcane has made him into an unexplainable paradox, a Hexcorized heart that defies itself, a vulnerable vessel that has to relearn the difference between stimuli. It's a perception he wishes to evaluate, with you. To give sun and soil and rainwater and gasoline, so this newfound antithesis explodes into blooms in his hands, all hazy and flickering.

He's missed you. So, so terribly. This is all the runes that bend to his whim can say, now. (Viktor curls in on himself, prods into his bones and finds the weaker vessel he tried to leave behind. Always there, just dormant. He imagines your fingers running through his windswept hair as he kisses you until you're both stupidly breathless. He tastes like nebulae, you taste the same as he remembers.) He watches radiance shine through the mottled marks on your bare skin: his fingerprints, reactive to the untamed thrum of the surrounding stratosphere.

Blasphemy be damned, the Herald of the Arcane takes an oath to stay by your side, just as a younger half of him, more foolish, more weary and rune-carved and destined to betray you once promised he would. And he can, now. He can abandon augmentation to show you pure, exquisite entropy.

The unconscious blending of his mind with yours causes you to hear, causes you to answer as your thoughts resound.

Viktor- I missed you, I missed you so much- I'd always come with you, I promise. I love you.

Ironically, or perhaps impossibly, Viktor's own mind responds to yours before he has a true chance to think.

I have always loved you. Come apart for me.

The anomaly around you flares to life with a surge, a big bang, a colorful amalgamation of wildflower-hues you've never seen before — and you come undone for him, in a storm of broken breaths and reverent chants of his name.

You're falling — dying — in your lover's arms, breaking into pleasant pieces, as Viktor brings you back to life a thousand times over. His lap to his pelvis drip, drips with the residuals of your arousal. He gently rocks his hips as you finish, drawing out your pleasure for everything it's worth.

He's close behind, then. His figure is briefly made of cosmos and fractals, symbols and steel. Viktor's endless shudders, careening through his lithe limbs, cause the anomaly to exhale a cosmos-ridden breath of pure contentment.

As Viktor spills inside you, his spend dripping down his length and your thighs and his lap, vibrant and colorful like an oil-slick — there, onto the prickling, plush skin of your lower stomach, you're gently branded with an intricate half-circle of arcane runes.

They glow brightly, their cornflower-blue outline starkly contrasting your skin. Fleetingly, you're mortal and patron, human and seraph. The Arcane Herald's signature source of power floods into you: cresting waves of stellar divinity, connected constellations of magic that promise, they've been here all along. You simply needed to be taught how to harness them.

And then, as quick as a miniscule spark gets water-doused into nothing, the arcane's addictive influence is gone. All that's left behind are the tingling fingerprints on your body, and the silence of the scar-colored runes, a halo dotting your abdomen, carved deep beneath your skin. Palpable proof of Viktor's touch, his devotion.

Between your heavy breaths, your vision infinitely hazy, you hear Viktor exhale a genuine, utterly delighted laugh.

"Look at you," His voice, for once, is closer to humanity. No longer echoing, instead booming once inside your skull with a potent sense of finality. "Stronger already, yes? I can feel the restlessness of the arcane within you- you are- hah, so perfect. My glorious little love…"

A brief storm of cosmos-colored resplendence threads through his body, from the neck down; the Hexcore's way of recomposing, rebooting. He trembles against you for only a few moments. His third arm twitches, clicks, testing the stiff curl of each talon individually. Something burns underneath his false face, and Viktor realizes it's the splitting urge to break into a smile.

You're limp against him, weakly leaning into his chest. Both of his large palms hold onto your waist to brace your weight. He eases out of you carefully, marvels at the mess you've both made as he returns to faultless, logical normalcy. He's already found his resolve, appearing as he did when he first found you, while you're still gasping for breath. Hair a mess, skin sweat-soaked, legs tensing to try not to tremble.

This element to his new body is one he can learn to accept.

After all, it allows him to admire you: mouth parted, your eyes closed like you're saying a prayer. You're akin to magnetism, a driving force he can't look away from. He measures the steady thrum of your pulse. Touch tender enough to heal, his thumb traces your eyelids, your lashes, the curve of your brows and your nose and the softness of your cheek, as though it's an outline he wishes to memorize. You're given plenty of time to breathe, relax, and find your bearings.

In, and then out. He watches you inhale and exhale for several precious moments.

When your eyes finally open, the first thing you notice is the shift in the surrounding, enveloping anomaly.

The space around you is a brilliant galaxy, a vibrant ether, a stratosphere that spirals into itself like ripples on water. Plants blossom every which way, sprouting from nothing. Triangular pockets of light shine onto your skin, as if filtered through stained glass. Dots of stars flicker, occasional equations of pitter-pattering morse code. It reminds you of coordinates and diagrams and something distinctly technical, yet magical. Something familiar. Rays from the sun and metal against metal and an embrace that lasts too long, or not enough. You've never seen anything like it.

"An amalgamation between your soul, and mine," Viktor softly confirms. He lazily tips your chin up with a patient index finger. You'd almost forgotten how hypnotic his gaze could be. Both eyes firefly-flicker to a warm, exuberant rhythm.

"Beautiful," He says, focused solely on you. "Is it not?"

You nod, flashing him a small, drowsy grin. You cup his face in both palms, holding him far too delicately, and you press a feather-soft kiss to the diamond marking engraved just above his eyes.

The Arcane Herald purrs in contentment. Affectionate, he brushes the back of his hand to your cheek, allowing you to feel the golden kintsugi that adorns his once-broken knuckles.

The anomaly falls away in a quiet blur. Delightfully tousled, you step into the calm eye after a steady storm.

Reality warps, steadying around you. Your apartment comes into view in the aftermath of the arcane's inverted bubble. Your dusty living room, your rickety couch, walls and carpet faded with age. It takes a few moments for your mind to stop throbbing. You're distantly aware that Viktor is still holding you, settling your bare frame against him as he sits down, with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and his palm to the small of your back.

You're home. Or perhaps you never left.

Perhaps this is meant to be the start of a new beginning.

Gentle fingertips trail up your spine: a lover's caress. You feel elated. Calm. Safe, when you're in the Arcane Herald's arms.

You blink away the haze, adjusting on his lap to keep your newly steadied gaze on his. Viktor's third arm ticks softly, reminiscent of an aged, steady clock. This time, the halo that frames him is low and translucent, iridescently flickering like the beat of dragonfly wings. His masked face is a perfect picture of emotionlessness. Though you find him unreadable, you can't help but melt as you watch him clearly flick his sunset gaze from your mouth, to your eyes.

Weary knees shake as you prop yourself up more, to leave sleepy kisses onto his face, stardust brushing your mouth. His metal edges run cool against your bare skin, his chest pressed against yours. You kiss the sculpted curve of his cheekbone. The indentation of a past beauty mark. The smooth curve of his mask that reflects light and begs to be touched; as much as the arcane insists otherwise, he was made to be adored. You're certain.

Viktor hums, his resounding voice filled with the background noise of a fuzzy drone, "This form of connection… I would assume it could invite considerable strain onto the mind." He nuzzles his face into your nape. You can feel the swell of vibrations as he speaks. "You may rest, if you wish."

It's more of a promise than an invitation. A sleepless being is best suited to watching over while you dream.

You slump back into his lap, resting against his chest and absently trailing your fingertips over the gilded crescent of his ribs. "Not right now. I'm alright, Vik."

Viktor lightly pats your head. "The droplet of arcanic power I gave to you is quite sufficient enough to keep you safe. It will allow me to determine your location, should we become separated."

You seem to deflate, like a plant without water.

"Viktor," You plead, moon-big eyes gazing up at him. "Please. Stay."

He's heard those words before. Between silent tears or grasped hands or fingertips pushing his sweaty hair from his face.

There, in his flickering recollections, he breathes. Bile tinges in his throat when he swallows. He says a prayer in his head. Soft lips graze your forehead and pallid palms shake and unbeknownst at the time, this memory gets shoved down so deep, it's just as vivid in the moments after he first sheds his skin.

He wasn't planning on leaving, but this confirms it. Seals it. Stamps a promise into the empty core of his chest that burns with warmth, a knife lovingly delved into flesh, a beating heart pumping blood and oxytocin. Viktor feels alive for the first time in years.

And even though the Arcane Herald knows he wasn't made for this — he was created for calamity and salvation, not softness on the smallest scale. Just you and him, becoming nothing but a blip on the world's grandest stage. A simple life of endless wandering. A purposeful life where he gets to be intricately born anew for the hundredth time. The softest metamorphosis yet.

Viktor knows, but he holds your cheek in his all-too large hand, he tilts his head and lets his unwavering gaze burn through you, and he still answers: "Of course."

It isn't an argument. Of course, I will stay.

I was meant to.

#viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane x reader #arcane herald x reader #arcane herald viktor x reader #viktor smut #viktor arcane x reader

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peachesofteal · 5 months ago

Text

MELOS (PART THREE)

main masterlist / Azriel's masterlist

Part two here / Melos masterlist Azriel/female reader - 6.6k words - AO3 Tags - 18+ mdni, explicit content, hurt/comfort, caretaking, possessive behavior, usual warning for Azriel's self loathing. Brief suicidal ideation. Azriel willing to rip anyone to shreds for threatening his mate, complicated IC dynamics, Amren sucks. Oral sex - fem receiving, little bit of edging, Dom/sub undertones, praise kink. canon compliant.

Fear.

It slams into him, shakes the bond so violently he almost drops out of the sky, forces him off course over the jagged peak of Illyria, urging him to follow the intensity of your panic towards Velaris. Gone is his assignment, his contact awaiting his visit, his work. One objective rises above it all.

You.

The Palace of Bone and Salt is in shambles, but he hardly notices. Somewhere it registers in the back of his mind there’s been a quake, there are injuries, damage, but none of it matters.

The only thing that matters is his mate in front of him, trembling, eyes wide and glazed over, blood trickling down your face and blooming across your ribs. There’s a roaring sound between his ears, dread and rage and agony all compounding into a mounting explosion, and for a moment, he worries he might level the city for its crime of harming you.

Feyre is tense, and Cassian watches him warily. “What happened?”

“We found her under there,” he points to a dilapidated merchant’s stall, his stomach roiling at the sight of it, heavy stone counter cracked in half, wood and glass scattered across the ground, “protecting a little girl. We think she’s in shock.”

Not shock. Trapped in memories.

There’s a haunted look in your eye, a flicker of nightmares.

His brave girl.

He holds himself at bay, holds himself back from shooting into the sky with you cradled to his chest, carrying you as fast as the wind will allow to Madja, or pulling you into a cloud of shadow so he can arrive uninvited in her living room.

“She needs a healer.” His jaw has never been clenched so tight. The smell of your blood is making him sick.

“We know,” Feyre tries to reassure him, but at the same time angles her body to block his path. Cassian shakes his head, because he knows, just as Feyre should, standing between a male and his mate is a very bad idea. He loves Feyre, but his affection for her is nothing compared to what he feels for you, and her behavior in this moment, is reckless. “Az,” she tries to caution him, tone pitching low, serious, “maybe you should back-“

Remove her, the shadows snap, she is in our way.

“You need a healer.” He pretends she doesn’t exist, pushes his anger as far away as he can manage, and addresses you instead. You shake your head.

“I need to go. Home. I need to go… home.” Cassian snorts. Azriel wonders if it’s possible to break his jaw in one punch.

You’re slipping, unsteady on your feet, going somewhere in your mind he cannot follow and his panic ratches upward as he says your name and you don’t respond.

“Feyre,” Cassian murmurs, “step back.” She stiffens, but listens, and he surges forward, unable to keep away any longer.

His heart sings as he cups your cheek. It’s the first time he’s touched you since his hands brought you harm, and he chokes on a breath as you lean into his touch, satin against scars. “Look at me,” he soothes, trying to draw you back to the present, but it’s a losing battle. You’re going to pass out, and you’re scared, he can read it all so clearly, scared to slip away in the dark, scared to succumb to the nightmare in your mind. “It’s okay.” I’m here, he wants to scream, you’re not alone. You fist his shirt and blink like you’re trying to clear the fog from your head, but it’s not enough.

In one moment, you’re here, you’re with him.

And in the next, you’re collapsing in his arms.

Time is so fickle.

There’s not enough of it now. For so long, his existence was a plague, an endless agony rife with shame, a life undeserving. He dreamt, multiple times, of falling out of the sky and into the Sidra, sinking to the bottom and letting the cold water fill his lungs. He never wanted more, not truly. He had no need for time.

Now, it’s all he wants. More time for more chances to tell you how sorry he is and kneel at your feet, beg you for forgiveness. More time to know you. To love you. Time to learn your likes and dislikes, what makes your nose wrinkle, what adds a skip to your step. Time to take you flying, to trek through the forest with you on an endless scavenger hunt, watch as you bite your lip and furrow your brow at Moonflower’s worktable.

If the Mother would give him another chance.

If you would.

Time is fickle, because for months, he’s begged it to slow down, and now, he’s pleading with it to speed up, bring him to the moment where you wake.

Madja assured him you would make a full recovery within a day or two. She left a healing salve for the gash in your side, and some sleeping draught in case you were too uncomfortable to rest. You were exhausted, she told him, far weaker than she was comfortable with, body and magic wrung dry.

“Try to get her to eat something,” she said, “and then make sure she sleeps. She needs it. A lot of it.”

The guilt is insurmountable. It chews away at his insides, burrows itself deep beneath his skin like a disease, rotting his flesh and mind. All he sees is your face, terrified, tormented, first in his dungeon and again, in the Palace. He sees you shuddering amongst the ruin, eyes rolling back in your head, collapsing in his arms. He can still hear your gasps, your pleas from that night, the steady thump of your heart slowing as he took your air, again and again. It’s these memories, these moments igniting in his chest, pain so visceral it aches, the agony of his mate’s suffering tearing him apart from the inside out. No matter the end of his story, of yours, there will always be this cordolium within him, this stark regret plaguing his every step. You’re so beautiful it possesses the power to break him, a strange, beautiful creature, breathtaking from the tip of your nose to the depths of your mind, and he’s a monster, lurking in your nightmares.

A beauty, and a beast.

You whimper and twitch in the blankets, hands fisted, limbs stiff. “Shhh,” he strokes the apple of your cheek. He's been able to settle you somehow, lull you back to peace thanks to the music spinning between your soul and his, threads knitting around the frail, fledging bond, pushing you to take comfort in him as you rest. It's more than he could ever ask for. “You’re okay, sweet girl. You’re safe.” Your sleep has been fitful, at best, and he wonders if he’s the one haunting you, or something else.

He's still in the chair beside the bed when you begin to blink groggily, trying to get a grip on your surroundings. You’re clouded with confusion, echoes of apprehension strumming down the bond, and he meets it, tempering it with reassurance in hope it reaches the other side. “Hey,” he murmurs, holding perfectly still like you’re a small animal and he’s the predator determined not to spook you as you push up onto your elbows with a groan. “Careful. The wound in your side is pretty raw.”

“Where am I?” you croak, and he reaches for the glass of water waiting on the table.

“My house. I didn’t think you’d take kindly to me breaking into yours.” Mostly true. He can’t deny there’s a warm hum of satisfaction purring in his chest at having you here, in his bed, safe within his walls, and he was too unsettled by the thought of bringing you to the River House, or the House of Wind, even though Feyre tried to insist.

Over the course of his life, Azriel’s loyalty, his dedication to his family, his court, has been instinctual, engrained in him down to the core, and his drive to protect his loved ones, Velaris, has been one of his defining features for centuries.

But this instinct has now shifted to you, and you are still an unknown to his High Lord.

“You brought me to your house…” You glance around, unsure. He knows how it seems. A venomous trap laid by him to ensnare you, to hold you here, by his side, forever. A way to feed poison into your veins, stun you, paralyze you, so he can steal you away, shield you from the world.

“You needed a healer, and rest. This was the logical option." You hold his gaze. It’s one of those instances, one of many, where there’s nothing else but you and him, nothing else that matters, nothing that even comes close. He wishes they could last forever. “I had to make sure you’re okay.” He braces for your wrath, the tart, sweet contrast of a raspberry, pinching the pockets of his cheeks and rolling across his tongue. He had a taste of it in the Middle, with the swamp, and now he craves it. Your fight, your cunning. Clever witchling.

Your expression sours at the salve. “How bad is it?”

“A piece of marble crushed your ribs, and the jagged edge ripped your skin open. Madja says you’ll be healed in a day, but your body is exhausted and slowing the process. She left a sleep tonic, if you need it.” He murmurs, walking the line of too much and too little delicately, desperate to avoid crushing this fragile truce.

You shift, wincing, small yelp slipping free from between your teeth, and he stills you, brushing his hand along your arm before he can stop himself. “Easy.” The touch is electric, a live wire arcing through the room, crackling in the air, and he draws away out of fear, worry he’ll startle you. “We should get you home,” he says softly, and you nod. He won’t try to force it, push this farther. You won’t be comfortable here, and he’s cradling this burgeoning peace, fanning its flame, encouraging it to grow, trying to keep from ruining it. Working at something he's not sure he can achieve.

“Yeah I… I think that’s a good idea.” You sit up slowly, leaning to one side to alleviate the pressure on your ribs. “How far is it? To my house?” He frowns.

“Far. We’re on the other side of the city. Do you think you can winnow?”

“I don’t know.” You try to wriggle closer to the side of the bed, but it’s fleeting, and your shoulders slump with defeat.

“I can take you, if you’d like.” You glance at his wings.

“With those?”

“No, I wouldn’t fly with you in this cold.”

“With the shadows then.” You look down at your lap, and the weight of his choices crash like a wave upon his shoulders. The last time he took you through shadow, it was to the chamber, and then back. He swallows.

“It’s the quickest way.” You fix your gaze across the room, sweeping over his dresser, the nook lined with bookshelves and overstuffed velvet chairs, the chest of weapons on the opposite side. Charcoal grey drapes frame the floor to ceiling windows, aquamarine and citrine refracting through the stained-glass onto the deep, nearly black, green walls and polished wide plank wood floors.

“This is your room.” Your fingertips glide across the sheets, black satin, and his cheeks grow hot.

“Yes.”

“It fits you.” Your lips tilt into the thinnest crescent moon, something akin to a tiny smile, and optimism soars in his heart.

You hold out your hand, the tattoo a mirror to his, the ink and magic of salvation, his contrition, the thing he now bows to, idolatrously.

Without it, he’d be lost.

You take a long, deep breath and uncurl your fingers, opening your palm. The small sliver of trust knocking his entire existence askew.

The meaning of this-

This trust you deign to place in him now, when you’re vulnerable, when your magic is feeble and your physical strength is sapped, is an infinitesimal gift, divinity defying all.

Unworthy. Another thing you’re giving him that he’s unworthy of.

The threads sing, weaving notes together, highs and lows, one side of a fugue, one side still waiting.

Your throat bobs with a swallow, and you graze your fingertips against his. “You’ll take me home then?”

He’s not sure he can leave you here.

She’s in pain, the shadows bemoan as they carefully flutter at your ankles. You’re too fatigued to notice, too busy contemplating the stairs with trepidation. Climbing them is a daunting task, one he fears you may fail. You’re hurting, completely exhausted, and he’s powerless. He can’t fix it or take it away, like everything else that’s happened. Your eyes are nearly dead, drained, and the shadows flitter around you anxiously. She cannot hold herself up.

I know.

“Can I help you up the stairs?” You shake your head vehemently, and like you’re trying to prove something, attempt to take the first step on shaky legs, gripping tight to the banister like it will keep you steady.

Your knees give out immediately, and his self-restraint vanishes. He lifts you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, petrichor and oakmoss flooding his senses, and you don't even flinch. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, “let me help.”

“I’m tired,” you whisper, voice smaller than he’s ever heard, and he tightens his hold.

“I know. Let’s get you into bed, alright?” Weak limbed and limp, you slump against him, giving yourself over. More trust, more of these things he does not deserve.

“Madja said your bandage won’t need to be changed before you’re healed, so you won’t have to worry about that tomorrow.” He carefully guides you back against your pillows, trying to ignore how caring for you, holding you, being here with you ignites a swath of feelings in him, possessiveness, protective instincts, obsession. Devotion. The rage, the hatred, the darkness haunting him slips into silence, drowned out by the music, the melody overtaking all.

“Okay,” you mumble, trailing off into a yawn as you squint at him. He wants to stay right here, sitting on the edge of your bed, his hip against your thigh, the neutral, barely there contact chasing off the stygian sullenness waiting to welcome him back to its embrace.

Don’t push it.

He stands. You follow the movement, head tipping back, exposing your throat. Such a vulnerable place, one he greatly wants to drag his lips across. “I’ll let you sleep.” He says instead, stifling the pleasure surging in his blood at the way your eyes track him. He swears he seems a flicker of sadness there, but it’s gone before he can truly process it, hold on it, commit it to memory. When you don’t say anything else, he nods, drawing a sable shroud around his shoulders, readying to step into-

“Azriel,” he freezes, catching your gaze, “thank you.”

“Of course.” He’d do anything for you, little witch. Anything you asked.

“I’ll see you next week?” There’s a tinge of trepidation on your tongue but it’s not fear. It’s uncertainty. His lips lift into a smile, a genuine one, one that only exists around you.

“Next week.”

He’s summoned almost immediately, and arrives in Rhys’ office to find an audience of his brother and Feyre, Amren, Cassian. The only one missing is Mor.

He quiets himself. Hides everything inside, pulls the shadows close, reinforces the walls around his mind. “What is it?”

“What is it?” Rhys hisses, anger flashing through the room’s thickened fog of magic. “What is it?” Azriel slips into the mask, the one he perfected long ago, and crosses his arms. A mirror image of the father he hated.

“Your mate is a witch.” He looks to Cassian, who shakes his head. He didn’t do it, didn’t betray the secret, this turbulent reality.

It was bad enough they discovered he had a mate in the first place, but disappearing for two weeks, without communication, has its consequences, and he has a hard time denying Feyre anything. When she asked where he had been, what had caused him to leave so suddenly without word, everything came out.

Almost everything.

“She’s not a witch, her mother was.”

“So she’s only half a witch,” Amren says drily, rolling her eyes. The shadows rumble, rankle with rage.

“I could smell it, Az, but she’s done nothing wrong. We don’t want to interrogate her.” Feyre looks at him with sympathy, and he only regards her with that same cool stare. Rhys who appears to be of a different mind, snarls at him.

“You will bring her to me, immediately, and I will determine what kind of-“

“No. She is none of your concern.” He will not play this game. He will not give Rhys a single second with you, if this is his intention.

“She is a witch, living in my Court!”

“And do you not trust my ability to evaluate a threat?” It takes everything, everything he has, to keep his tone measured. Cassian’s eyes dart between the two of them and then clears his throat.

“He tortured her, Rhys.”

“I don’t care,” he snaps, “he is blinded by a mating bond.” He turns his attention back to Azriel, raw power crackling through the air between them. “You will bring her to me, or I will retrieve her myself, and you will not like what happens if I do.”

The room explodes in shadow. Midnight closes in from all sides, climbing the walls, crawling across the floor.

The bond thirsts for battle and blood, for his brother’s head, and Azriel’s vision tunnels, soaked in crimson, in wrath, malevolence worthy of a smote god.

Amren stands. Cassian takes a step forward.

“You would threaten my mate? Is this what we’ve come to?” He’s descended past reason now, encased in an icy coffin of fury, and his siphons gleam, the killing power inside him salivating at the potential for violence. For destruction.

His people are monsters, and so shall he be.

To protect you, to protect his mate, he’d become anything, a brute, a nightmare, it makes no difference.

“Az, let’s-“

“Cassian.” He seethes, refusing to take his eyes from Rhys, “while you may be more amenable to how your mate is treated by our brother, I am not.” Guilt flashes in Rhys’ gaze, and a breath catches in Feyre’s throat with a small, strangled sound.

“This is ridiculous. Just bring the girl and be done with it.” Amren snorts, casually inspecting her fingernails to appear as if she’s unaffected, but Azriel knows better. The shadows know her heart, her truths, how she mourns the loss of what she once was, how she loathes the fact that she’s High Fae. How she’s all too aware of her weakened state, hiding behind her posturing and assumed infinite wisdom that's slowly becoming irrelevant. Like her.

“Amren. Shut up.” Cassian bites out, his siphons casting a rubied glow around the room, mixing with Azriel’s cobalt blue, painting them together into deep purple hues.

“You will never touch my mate, Rhys. Never.” His brother’s face sparks with surprise and then his lip curls.

“Or what?”

“Rhys!” Feyre whips towards him, horror and disappointment settled into the furrow of her brow. “This is enough.” She looks at Azriel. “We trust your judgement Az, of course we do, and Rhys forgets I met her in the Palace saving a child’s life.” She hisses, her own power pulsing between the brothers, creating a physical barrier.

It’s not wrapped tight to Azriel, but to Rhys.

It seems his brother has been outranked.

We can break it, the shadows croon.

No.

This is his family, dysfunctional as it may be, as tumultuous it may be, they are still his.

Rhys is still his brother. His High Lord.

“Let’s take a breath, cool off.” Feyre coaxes, nudging at the fortress of Azriel’s mind. Go. I will speak to him.

Don’t bother.

He will listen to reason, just… give it some time.

He spares Rhys one more glance as his wings flex and shakes his head. “I am disappointed in you, brother. I had hoped by now you would have learned from your mistakes.”

He expects another challenge of some sort. “No swamp today?”

“No swamp.” You lead him to your workspace in the back of Moonflower, a light, airy space with shelves and shelves full of herbs, flowers, plants growing from glass jars, and hunk of rocks, precious metals, strips of steel haphazardly tucked beside them, all chaotic, all disorganized. Like your home, it’s fitting. “I figured you could hang out with me while I work.” It’s a trial in its own way, daring him to protest, to vanish, to be bored by you, disinterested.

He won’t. He’d never.

“What are you making?” The table is full of stuff. Books, a mortar and pestle, a brass scale. There’s a long, sharp knife next to a thick stalk of something purple that smells like lemon, flanked by two glass beakers, and a heaping pile of salt. A raised metal circle holds a sphere over open flame, its contents a cyan rich liquid just on the cusp of a boil.

“Today I’m trying to finish a batch of contraceptive tea, and a cleanser.”

“A cleanser?”

“It’s an elixir that pulls poison from the body. All the healers in Velaris keep it stocked. Works well for a hangover too.” You bless him with another smile, the second one today, and he tucks it away for when sleep struggles to come and he needs something to cling to.

You pin him with assessing eyes. Anything could roll from your tongue, a question, a request to fulfill the bargain, a demand to never see him again, and the precipice is agony. He wonders if this is how it would be to fall without wings, drop out of the sky and plummet towards the mountains, jump from a cliff and crash into the sea. Would his heart pound the same, lungs scream the same? Would he experience peace, the same he feels in your presence, would his past flash before his eyes, would his family, or you? Conflict shivers from behind your walls towards him, twisting through the bond. “You owe me an explanation, and while I… I do need to hear it, desperately... there are other things that weigh on me. The fact that you know well enough about me but I know very little about you." You draw a pattern through the heap of salt, suddenly distant. It passes, and you blow out a long breath. "Azriel… who are you?” He frowns.

“I am… the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster, I’m-“

“No. What are you, if not those things, the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster. Who are you?”

“I…” the answer doesn’t come and there’s suddenly a nest of cotton muffling sound and thought, spinning tangled webs throughout his brain. Who is he?

“I'm clever,” you lift your nose and smirk, tracing the rim of the glass beaker to make low whistle tones, “and a friend. I make a very good honeysuckle whiskey cocktail, and I love to read. I’m a hunter too, of fungi and moss, the occasional crystal. I'm an alchemist, I balance nature and magic. I’m a daughter.” Your voice hitches on the last word, vowels pulled apart at the edges, longing lingering on your lips. It pains you. Another puzzle in the long list of surprises, another riddle you’ve posed without an answer, a truth he struggles to find. “Try,” you whisper, ever watchful.

“I’m a bastard.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, the stain upon his life since the day he was born. “And an Illyrian,” a brute, a monster, “I’m exceptionally skilled at causing pain and killing. I am warrior, a fighter. I have turned suffering into art. I am…” he doesn’t look at you. You’re the only thing capable of making him feel real fear, fear of your pain or suffering or anguish, the fear of your rejection, the fear of your disgust, and he can’t bring himself to see it on your face. “I am alone.” He braces for the pity, the same sharp sympathy given to him by his family.

“Well. Those are awful.” His gaze snaps to yours. You’re aggravated, and curious.

Always curious, our girl.

She is, isn’t she?

“You’re a brother, aren’t you? And an uncle?” He nods. “So, not alone. And you’re a bastard, probably mocked for it, hurt for it, but here you are, so I imagine you’re perseverant, strong. Strong in the physical sense too.” You peek at his shoulders, his arms, traveling down his chest before redirecting your attention to his face, somewhat abashed. “U-um, you’re-“

“Clever. Like you.”

“Clever, like me. Brave too, I think, and probably devoted, loyal, considering your line of work.”

“Yes,” he whispers, symphony rising, notes colliding with perfect pitch, ringing in ears, a celestial rhythm waiting for the crescendo to match.

“Loved.” It’s a blazing star shooting across the sky, a buttery sweet sentiment melting in his mouth, loved.

“You didn’t list it for yourself.”

“Because it didn’t belong.” Loved? You don’t consider yourself loved?

“Why?”

“Because there is no one left. I am a good friend, a great one, but my secret prevents others from being a good friend to me. You cannot be loved if you are not known, not truly.” It crashes into him, the severity of your words. You cannot be loved if you are not known, not truly.

Is he known? Truly known? Is he loved?

Molten silver bubbles over from the sphere to a beaker, polychrome and pearl trickling down the sides, sizzling into a powder at the bottom. “Ah!” You jerk away from the table, bringing your hand to your chest, and he goes cold, shadows vibrating.

“What?” He’s around the corner and in front of you immediately,

“It’s nothing, the silver just dripped on me.” You burned yourself. His chest tightens.

“Let me see.” He cradles your hand in his, shadows quivering around your fingertip as he pulls you over to the tap. He turns the handle to the right temperature, cool but not cold, before putting your blistered skin under the spigot. If he’s fast enough, he can stop it from scarring, stop it from marring your lovely skin, prevent it from being with you for the rest of your life. “How does that feel?”

“Good.” You’re not looking at the water splashing down into the copper sink, or the burn. Instead, you're studying him, contemplating, considering.

“Do you have any cream here? Or maybe one of the salves you make...” He trails off, trying to think about what he’s seen in the shop out front, but everything he means to ask dies in his throat when you wrap your other hand around his.

“I’m okay, Azriel.” Right. Of course you are. It’s a small burn, not even the width of your fingertip. Suddenly, he feels very, very foolish, exposed, and he ties a cloak of obsidian around his shoulders, pulling the tendrils down around his forearms.

“Sorry, I-“

“I know.” You caress the shadows curling around his elbow, dancing through them with grace, inspecting, studying. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whisper, and his throat tightens.

“There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing.” You shake your head.

“There is… there has to be because I should you hate you, shouldn’t I?”

“You should.” You should do more than hate him, you should fear him, detest him, run from him.

“But I don’t. I don’t hate you, I’m not scared, and I don’t think it’s the safety net of the bargain. I don’t… I don’t understand it. I’m not frightened of you, but I am… I’m frightened of this.” Your palm flattens over your heart. He should tell you; he should confess-

but then he could lose you.

“I should tell you to leave, but all I want to tell you is you’re not alone.” He tries to dig his heels into the ground against the magnetism dragging him downward, farther and farther until he’s holding your face, nearly nose to nose, counting your breaths, each speck in your irises. Decision and indecision hums down the bond, an endless tug of war you fight, a battle he wants so badly to win for you. You push up onto your tiptoes-

and then crash your lips to his.

It’s hungry, lush, teeming with life like your beloved forest. You unknowingly push it all through the bond, desire, confusion, worry, each feeling a chord, a note, trying to complete the song. He’s losing himself in it, veering off the path and diving headfirst into the unknown, too incensed to think for a moment before he wrests his discipline back into place.

Stop.

Control.

He rests his forehead against yours as he draws a measured breath.

His. He’ll show you what it means. To be his.

“You are perfect,” he presses a ghostly kiss to the corner of your mouth, “brilliant, kind, brave. You are far more than I deserve, a blessing I never knew could exist. A goddess I would worship my entire life.” An endless pool of hesitance and longing eddies in your eyes, a paradox he knows too well, and he prepares to step away, disappear, run.

But you reach for him with a whisper.

“Worship me then.”

Fervor. Frenzy. It all explodes, detonates through him to you, whipping down the bond again and again, madness ebbing at the edge of his mind.

His. His, his, his.

The two of you collide, and he’s rough, unintentionally, but it’s met blow for blow in a distorted dance, hands, fingers, mouths everywhere, his tongue against yours. It’s not enough, your touch under his shirt, traveling up to his shoulders, a leisurely stroll becoming a hectic sprint, encouraging him, knitting your fingers in his hair, nipping at his jaw. He plucks the ribbon tying the neckline of your dress together, your breasts spilling out into his hands.

“Azriel,” you’re whimpering, rolling your hips against the thigh he’s nudged between your legs, shivering as drags his thumbs across your nipples and follows with his teeth, sharp for the sweet, “don’t tease.”

Wild one.

The shadows sweep everything off the worktable, and he lays you back, hiking the skirt up over your belly, dragging soft kisses on your skin beneath your navel as he spreads your knees wide, wide enough to accommodate his shoulders, exposing a pair of black panties, weeping pussy waiting for him underneath.

He has no patience and twists his fingers in the hem, tearing the fabric away from your body. “Cauldron,” he murmurs, running his knuckles up and down your seam, enjoying how you shiver each time he teases a little pressure against your clit. “Look at you- beautiful everywhere.” Dawn in a drizzle, your scent makes his mouth water, and his cock aches, painfully heavy. This is not about him, it’s about you, as all things are now.

He'll have plenty of time, he prays, plenty of time inside you, plenty of time to bury his cock in your slick, warm cunt.

He kneels. Kneels at the altar, kneels for you. This is veneration, the cleansing of his soul. He’ll make himself worthy, through fire, through ash.

You, you, it’s all you.

The bond is insatiable, it shrieks like a banshee in the night, his side slamming against yours again and again, hungry and hunting, trying to crash through the sky-high brambles blocking its path.

His. His. Hishishishis-

“Azriel,” you whimper, practically vibrating, fidgeting on the table, fingers gripping the edge. You go taut as he pulls your thighs over his shoulders and leans in to finally put his mouth on you, tasting, flicking his tongue over your swollen pearl. He’s too broad between your knees, the width of him leaving you completely exposed, every nerve ending on display, every drop of dew ready for him to drink. The size difference is startling, pleasing, and he rumbles his approval into your cunt, tracing your clit with a pointed tongue.

He wants to make you come so badly, but the fiend in him wants to play. “Can you take a finger?” You manage to rasp out a yes, and he feeds you one, unable to look at away at how you clench around it, pressing up past the knuckle, making you sing for him. “That’s it,” he works slowly, pushing and pulling as you arch on the table, toes curling against his shoulder blades, digging into his flesh, “good girl.” You’re tight, tight enough a second finger fills you, tight enough you squeak a little when he kicks them upward, searching for the spot, the one likely to make to go limp.

“Az,” you tug at his hair, and he kisses your pussy, mouth soaked, almost drowning in silken sap, fresh rain, salted earth, the strange and beautiful taste of you.

“Just a bit more,” he finds the textured velvet space and strokes, pinning your hip to the table with his free hand. “There it is, be still,” he croons, pleased when you listen, stammering something like yes and please, panting between syllables. Your nails scratch against the wood, walls clutching his fingers as you writhe, greedy, insatiable, wild as nature intended you to be.

He circles your clit with his tongue and your knees instinctively try to jolt closed, but he shakes his head, correcting you, commanding or coaching, lines too blurred to tell the difference. “Keep your legs open, sweet girl, nice and wide for me so I can make you come.”

“P-please, please.” Your spine arches and you grip the hand on your hip tight, rising to the crest of the wave he knows is about to crash down. He balances you there, just on the swell, pushing harder on the spot inside you, listening to the way your breath catches. “Ah, fuck, it’s t-too much-” you kick your feet and hiccup, head rolled to the side, eyes wide and brighter than the full moon, tears starting to gather on your lashes.

He'll eat you alive, lick you clean right to the bone, inhale you. Swallow you. Keep you inside himself forever, keep you safe and sheltered. Hidden away.

“I know, I know,” he coos. Normally he’d make you wait, drag it out until you were a mess far past this while he edged you into madness, but now is not the right time, the right moment.

Still. His blood yearns for it. For your tears, for the way you’d cry as he bounced you on his cock, as his body buried yours into his mattress, as he split you open, fucked you full of his cum.

But for now, this will have to do.

“Poor thing. Does it ache, sweetheart? Do you need to come?”

“Y-yeah, I need it please… I need… I need you.” I need you. If this is all he gets, if this is all he’s earned and it crumbles afterwards, he’ll hold onto those words, treasuring them with his last breath. I need you. He kisses your thigh and then sweeps over your clit, licking and lapping, coaxing your release until you break apart, clapping a hand over your mouth to smother your strangled scream. He praises you- my good girl, look at you, did so well, so perfect- and wrings every last drop of it from your body, only rising from between your legs once you’ve stopped twitching.

Your face is slack, sloped in a small delirious smile, and he licks his fingers clean, kisses the inside of your knee. “Are you with me?”

“Mhmm.” You try to hop down and end up stumbling forward, face planting directly into his chest. His arms come around you on instinct, cupping the back of your head, cradling it, skimming his nose along your hair and breathing as deep as he can, filling his lungs with forest and fauna, fresh snow in the twilight of the first winters day.

Don’t let go, don’t.

Everything in him is warm, at peace. Idyllic.

Your hand creeps across his thigh. “I can…”

“No,” he pulls your fingers to his mouth and presses a kiss to each one, slowly, savoring, “not today.” An easy smile spreads across his face at the sight of your blown pupils, swollen lips, but the bond thrums with confusion, unease.

“Do you not want me to…”

“I want to have you in any way conceivable, witchling,” he strokes your cheek, “but not here.” Your worktable is in shambles, and as if you forgot, you grimace and huff, pulling away. “I can help-“

“No, it’s fine.” The things scattered to each end begin to arrange themselves, finding their rightful places, glass beakers and molten silver, crushed bundles of herbs and finely ground powders all returning to how they were as if nothing ever happened, tinge of damp foliage and peeling birch rolling around you in a cloud.

“Neat trick.”

“It’s not a trick,” you protest, affronted, and his stomach drops.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“ The side of your mouth quirks playfully, and he closes the gap, curls an arm around your waist as you place your palms on his chest, laughing. Just the brief sound of your happiness might kill him, stop his heart. He finds the curve of your ass instinctively and squeezes, kneads the flesh hard enough you suck in a sharp breath.

“Little brat.” He could take you right now. He wants to. Flip your dress up all over again and bend you over the table, pressing your cheek to the wood and kicking your legs open. You’d still be wet, wanting, pussy swollen and tight, milking his cock as he made you come on it until you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer.

Not now.

This, whatever this is, this step forward, this rebuilding of what could have been, is fragile, so incredibly tenuous it terrifies him. A small light trying to swell in a sea of sombrous fog, fighting for a chance to shine.

Anything could snuff it out.

“Our next… meeting won’t be until the very end of next week.” The sun is setting over the city, bathing it in a spectrum of opalescence orange-gold streaked with violet, it’s beauty paling in comparison to the brilliance of yours.

“Why?”

“I’m travelling.” A ripple of tension cascades along his spine. He planned other things for this conversation, hoped to broach the subject of the Solstice ball and ask you to accompany him, but now…

“Where?” The bond rumbles in apprehension, echoing from both sides, his wings rustling in response.

“Spring.” Absolutely not.

“No.” You glare at him.

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

“I’m aware.” He should soften his tone, tread carefully, but the monster inside, the one fused to the bond overrides sensibility, caution, showing his true colors. Brute. Bastard. Illyrian.

“I-“

“I’ll go with you.” Balance. You sigh.

“I am fine on my own, Azriel.”

“I know.” But he’s not. “As you said earlier, I still owe you an explanation.” That gives you pause, your scrutiny harsh and piercing, more lethal than the fine point of a blade.

Finally, you acquiesce with a nod. “You do.”

“Let’s use that time for it then.” Please. He’s always pleading, digging a deeper hole, dragging himself across broken glass.

The bond is tightrope, one strung from his soul to yours. He tugs it towards his side, trying to drag yours from the vadon, flush your indecipherable thoughts free from the forest of your mind.

Eventually, your hard-bitten expression turns conciliatory and though you cross your arms in front of your chest, you bite out an agreement, teeth gnashed, defiance glittering in your gaze.

“Fine.”

#peaches writes #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #acotar #azriel shadowsinger

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kionetra · 2 months ago

Text

TikTok trend gone horny?!

Synopsis: What starts as a playful TikTok prank—making your boyfriend act out song lyrics—takes a filthy turn when you pick a rather explicit track. You expected laughs. You got something else entirely.

Warning: MDNI +18 ONLY, Fem!Reader, Established Relationship, TikTok Challenge Gone Wrong, Oral Sex (f receiving), Fingering, Rimming (f receiving), Rough Sex, Dom!Gojo, Sub!Reader, Praise Kink, Light Degradation, Size Kink, Overstimulation, Cumplay, Tummy Bulge, Mating Press, Semi-Exhibitionism, Reader Passes Out (from head), Reader is so fucked - literally, Multiple Orgasms, Power Play, Soft Aftercare, Gojo is dangerously good at following directions, You Started It.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You tried to keep a straight face as you set your phone up on the dresser, angling it just right to capture both you and your very unsuspecting boyfriend. He was lounging on the bed, half-scrolling through his phone, half-watching you through hooded eyes that always got you in trouble.

You turned to face him, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Okay, babe - trends simple. I'll play the song and you just have to do what the lyrics say. Got it?"

Satoru raised a brow, looking at you as he put his phone down, still leaning against the headboard of the bed as he crossed his muscular arms - muscles flexing under his tight black shirt.

"And why am I doing this?"

"Because you love me so much and would do anything for me?" You said sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

Satoru snorted, shaking his head like he was already regretting this, but he got up anyway—because of course he did. He could never say no to you.

“A'ight,” he said, stretching like a lazy cat as he stood, his shirt sliding up to reveal the sharp lines of his v-cut—and just beneath it, the tempting trail of white hair that had your eyes dipping far too low, far too fast.

You quickly hit record before he could notice the way your breath hitched.

Starting safe, you played something light—a throwback pop song, just to ease him in. He rolled his eyes but played along, mouthing the words dramatically, even throwing in a little body roll for good measure.

You had to stifle your laugh when you changed tracks, trying not to crack up as the beat of "My Neck, My Back" filled the room.

~ ".....my neck, my back, lick my pussy and my crack," ~

You watched his face, waiting for the laugh, the eye roll - something.

But instead... he smirked.

"Satoru....heh..." you suddenly backpaddled, laughing lightly as your smile faltered, throwing your hands up in defense - the room suddenly feeling much smaller.

"It's just a prank, babe."

He tilted his head slightly, that grin deepening into something slow and dangerous. “Yeah?” he said, stepping toward you with the kind of confidence that made your knees weak. “Funny. Doesn’t feel like one.”

You swallowed hard.

The phone kept recording.

And the prank? Yeah—you were definitely the one getting played.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

annnnnnd that was how you found yourself with your thighs clenched around Satoru's head as he sucked on your clit - fucking into you with his long, thick digits - curling them to hit that spongy spot deep inside that has your toes curling.

"f-fuck! Toru!"

You gasped out, eyes rolling back as your body thrashed, trying to push him away.

"Don't fucking run fr'me - take it, you asked for this."

He groaned into your pussy, his voice sending vibrations through your body as his tongue flicked rapidly over your swollen clit.

the music played in the back, almost mockingly - like you asked for this.

And Satoru? He followed the lyrics to a tee.

You gripped his white locks, tugging harshly as you fucked your cunt into his face, losing control as you felt him meet your actions with equal passion - having the audacity to nip at your puffy bundle of nerves - chuckling at your following yelp.

"Yeah, just like that, sweets - mmm, fuck,"

You felt your orgasm crash over you as you let out a silent scream, back arching off the bed - Satoru still relentless in his assault. He moaned in approval as he continued thrusting his fingers into your gushing cunt - lapping up all your juices with a filthy sluurrrrrppp.

"hah....f-fucking hell Toru...."

You managed to gasp out between your pants, throwing your head back as you looked down between your soaked thighs, his eyes peering up at you as he lifted his head - his face fully drenched in your slick arousal.

Still utterly fucked out, you felt him lift your hips, bending you in half as he pushed your legs back, leaving you fully exposed to him.

"w-wait...hah...I'm still-"

You were cut off as he delved back - this time lower - as he began eating your ass out, tongue licking and prodding as his other hand massaged your clit in rough circles with his fingers.

And that was when you passed the fuck out.

"C'mon baby - open those pretty eyes for me."

Your eyes opened slowly, staring at the ceiling as you tried to remember what the hell just happened.

"Mmph.."

You groaned, looking to the side only to be met with the flushed, leaking tip of Satoru's long, girthy cock. He smirked as he looked down at you with the eyes of a predator who had finally hunted down their prey.

"Ate the pussy s'good that you passed out on me, hm?"

He mumbled, stroking your hair as he gripped the base of his shaft, his heavy balls swinging slightly as he tapped the tip on your forehead.

"You started this, sweets - you gotta finish it, don't hold out on me now, baby."

Seconds later and he had your face smushed down onto the mattress, hips snapping roughly as he pounded into your poor, sopping cunt. You could only moan out, muffled by the sheets as you pathetically pushed your hips back against his brutal backshots, feeling your eyes haze over.

"This all for me? f-fuck! So-" pound "fucking-" pound "good," the headboard slammed violently against the wall, not truly paying homage to the brutal fucking he was giving you.

The only sound heard was the vulgar sound of skin slapping and the wet slosh of your cunt as he slammed into your aching pussy, filling you to the brim as his heavy balls slapped against your clit - almost making you pass out, for the second time.

"ah! r-right there! p-please, 'toru!"

You whined out, drunk on his cock as you gripped onto the sheets, arching your back further as he split you open.

"Yeah? fuck - right here?"

He gripped your hips with a bruising squeeze, angling his hips to hit that spot deep inside he knew would make you shatter. He watched, hypnotised as your ass jiggled in motion, kneading the dough in his hands as he delivered a harsh smack!, almost cumming from the way it recoiled - a red hand print beginning to form.

"Fucking cum for me - soak my dick, baby - wanna feel this pretty pussy milk me for all I got,"

Satoru leaned down, growling in your ears as his hips never faltered, his hand that wasn't holding your head in place sliding down to rub circles on your puffy clit, nipping at your ear as he soothed the sting with his tongue.

"Hah! 'Toru! m'cumming! I l-love you - hgnh - so g-good, ah!"

You came - again - with a gasp as your body trembled, your legs giving out as you felt your body slump down.

Satoru didn't let that happen though - no - he wrapped his muscular arms around your waist- lifting your limp body off the bed as he continued pounding into you ruthlessly - leaving you defenceless.

"You like it when I'm rough, don't you, baby? Like it when I -" his hand reached up to pinch at your nipple, rolling the pebbled peak between his thumb and forefinger - his other arm still wrapped around your waist tightly, using your pussy like a flesh-light from the way he was dragging you down onto his aching cock. "- fuck you like this? f-fuck - when I'm diggin' deep in this pussy? My pussy?"

you could only whimper in response, your body dangling as he fucked you onto his cock, throwing his head back with a groan as he bit his lip, eyes rolling back. Your mixed juices dripped down both of your thighs, pooling onto the towel he had managed to slip underneath when you were passed out.

"Shit - m'gonna cum - hah, love this juicy fucking cunt."

He whispered in your ear. You couldn't keep up - trying to respond but only having incoherent mumbles stumble past your lips as you took him - all of him.

He suddenly flipped you around, laying you down - only this time, looking deep into your eyes as he buried himself to the hilt, balls resting snugly against your ass as he groaned.

"Fuck, yes - take it, baby - Take every fucking drop like the greedy little cumslut you are."

He growled, feeling your pussy clench and flutter wildly around his throbbing cock, milking him for every last drop. He gave your weeping cunt slow, deep strokes, working his cum into you as he smashed his lips to yours, swallowing your cries.

Your body trembled and shuddered beneath his, overstimulated as he filled you to the brim with his seed. You could only cling to him, your nails raking down his back as you kissed him back with equal fervor, swallowing his groans and grunts of pleasure.

He gentled the kiss, his lips softening as he pulled back, a string of saliva connecting between them. His eyes softened as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I love you, sweets - was it too much?" he asked, his mind clearing as he took in your fucked-out expression, smirking slightly in smug male pride, knowing he was the one to do that to you and no one else.

"I am never doing a TikTok trend with you again," you mumbled, voice hoarse, eyes barely managing to stay open.

Satoru chuckled, dragging his fingers gently along your thigh. "Yeah, you will," he whispered, eyes glinting with mischief. "You just won’t survive the next one."

You turned your head as you heard your phone ping with a notification.

Fuck, you forgot to stop recording.

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a/n: hey y'all! Thank you so much for the love on my last post, it means a lot and gives me so much motivation! I saw this video on tt that someone posted and I've been laughing over it for the past hour - literally got inspired to write a whole smutty one-shot over it LMAO. Again, this was lowkey short but they will be getting longer with time!! If you guys want more posts like these, lmk heh 🤓. Hope everyone's having a good day/night!

tiktok that inspired this 😭

#jjk #jjk oneshot #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk smut #gojo x f!reader #jujutsu kaisen #smut #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x female reader #satoru smut

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nanaslutt · 2 years ago

Note

hear me out.. gojo w a mommy kink

oh em gee nonnie………

i wasn’t sure if you wanted sub or dom gojo but i hope you like what i cooked up :p

pls enjoy<3

contains: fem reader, mommy kink, use of ‘mama’, ‘mama’s’ as well, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), coming inside, bully!gojo, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, a liiiiitle cervix fucking, squirting, stomach bulge briefly mentioned, begging, whiney!gojo

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

it honestly started as a joke, maybe less of a joke and more of him testing the waters per say, “yes mommy” he chirped, humor and teasing laced in his tone when you asked him to take out the trash one afternoon

when you didn’t protest against the name, not giving him a usual snarky remark, he turned around to look at you, not expecting to see your blushing face, fidgeting from where you stood in the kitchen, looking embarrassed at the nickname he called you,

unbeknownst to you while you stared at your feet, a smile full of mischievousness was creeping onto gojo’s face, lightbulbs going off in his head

ohhh this is fucking perfect, he thought

he never knew how to bring up that he wanted to try this with you, it’s not like you would’ve taken him seriously anyways, he can picture how the conversation would go vividly in his mind,

but gojo was more than slightly to blame for the frequency in which you dismissed him. satoru was incapable of being serious to save his life

all thanks to his little ‘joke’ you were now currently in this predicament:

gojo’s massive palm shoving the side of your face into the mattress, tears and spit smeared on the sheets below you, other hand braced on your lower back, pushing you into the meanest arch as he fucks right into your gspot,

“you like that mommy?” he cooed, “like when i fuck your pussy like this? huh?” he teased lightly, laughing at the loud whimpers getting knocked out of your lungs each time his hips pulled his thick cock out of you only to bully his angry tip back right into your walls, rubbing you just right,

he was giving you the meanest backshots, feeling even more aroused than normal from not having to hold back this side of him anymore, “asked you a question mama’s,” he repeated, emphasizing his need for your response with a mean thrust,

“y-yeah f-feel ‘s good toru,” you moan out between his deep thrusts, “squeezin me so good mommy, fuuuuck.” he laughs when he feels your cunt start to pulse around him for the fourth time that night, “you gonna cum? you- o-oh fuuck.” words getting cut off at the intense feeling of your cunt gushing your squirt out around him,

“haaaaa, didn’t even warn me that time mama.” he grit his teeth, fucking you through your orgasm with newfound vigor, hand coming down to rub quickly back and forth against you clit, making your juices spray all over the bed underneath you,

“toruuuu, ‘m sensitive g-give me a second p-please.” you manage to stutter out, crying out when he doesn’t let up his assault on your overstimulated cunt, “nooo,” he moans pouting his lip down at you before smiling, “don’t think i wanna,” he finishes, leaning over you, moving his big hand off the side of your face and onto the bed next you you for leverage, other hand coming up to go grip your jaw and smash your lips into his,

he hums against your open mouth as you protest his malicious thrusts, fucking you like he’s trying to poke a hole through your guts. the new angle pushing his impossibly big cock ever deeper, kissing your cervix in painfully pleasurable thrusts,

“feel good mommy? huhhh?” he breathlessly whispers into your mouth, doing most of the work in kissing you as you were too fucked out to put in any effort. his tongue slipping into your mouth, sucking your lip into his and biting it between his teeth as he groans, “you feel me in ur stomach mommy?” he questions with a grin when he sees your shaky hand slide under your body to press against the bulge in your tummy,

“s fucking deep ‘toru p-please,” you begged, not really understanding yourself what you were asking for, but he just nods and hums agreements into your mouth, “m gonna cum inside you now.” he babbles against you lips, losing his sensibility bit by bit the longer he’s inside of you, butterflies flying around in his stomach when he feels your soft pussy clench around him tightly every time he uses the nickname, glad you’re getting off on it as much as he is,

“tell me you need it mommy, tell me- fuck- tell me you want me to fill this p-pretty pussy, need you to say it,” he’s gaping into your drooling mouth. your eyes having trouble staying forward in your eye sockets with how much pleasure you were getting from this,

“give it to me t-toru please, give it to me.” you somehow got out, barely coherent to someone if they were a foot away, luckily for gojo he was pressed against your face, whimpering ‘uhhuh?’’s repeatedly into your mouth, “cum inside mommy,” you slurred out, feeling his sloppy thrusts speed up,

loud echos of your wet cunt filling the room as he stills inside of you, whining and groaning out profanities hearing you call yourself by the nickname he was so insistent on, hips stilling deep inside you, cock feeling like it was inside your womb as he humps his sensitive dick against your ass,

“o-ohmygodd f-fuck meeee.” his whiney voice cries, rotating his hips in circles and simultaneously massaging your gspot while he lets the last spurts of his cum shoot deep inside you,

pushing his torso off of your back and leaning back while he pulls his still hard cock out, seed spilling down the back of your thighs as he spreads you pussy with his thumb to get a better view of it drip out, “fuck mama,” he laughed, biting his lip at the mess he made out of you, “gotta hear you call urself mommy again,” he smirks, pushing his sensitive dick back inside you, making you both gasp, “made me cum so fucking hard.” tipping his head back, breathing heavily as he steadies both his hands on your hips,

“not letting you leave till you have me shooting blanks inside this pussy,” he giggles into the air, you had no idea what you were in for.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Text

An Ode To Greed

Nikto x F!Reader || Smut Drabble W. An Utterly Down Bad Man (AKA Nikto)

No Dark Themes - Body worship, praise/dirty talk, p in v, edging, implied overstim, cunnilingus, implied somnophilia (but it's totally up to you), domestic Nikto, implied dom/sub & switch dynamics, etc. Minors interacting will be blocked.

Nikto was nothing less than an attentive lover.

Many days you found the man already done with the chores before you had the chance to get up—the light spilling through the curtains on his day off from KorTac. He was an early riser, the large Russian, always itching to move and to get his mind going. The mornings were organized, methodical, and always delicately thought out to the last detail: what cup he would use for his tea—black tea, of course, with lemon—to what he would clean first. Even down to the ingredients of the breakfast he would make you, leveled and weighed on the kitchen counter waiting for his experienced hand.

You left the cooking to him, and he never disappointed.

But…on the very rare days Nikto chose to sleep in, that body as big and as all-consuming as a bear rumbling right next to yours, it was something to greedily latch at like a cat with a toy. Luckily, your influence was the one thing that could always reduce the Russian to a panting dog in heat.

“Птичка,” Nikto grunts harshly into your ear, his hand grasping your hip as your breasts jerk along the mattress under you. Your mouth is open in a feral example of drunk pleasure, fingers kneading the ruined sheets. “Good girl, yes? Taking it so deep for us, this cunt.”

You whine loudly, eyes clenching shut as the sounds of wet rutting echo in your ringing ears. Your legs shake, backside up and chest stuck to the bed with Nikto’s shadow looming, repeating the action of grinding his cock in and out of your weeping slit one shove of his pelvis at a time. Everything about him was large, down from his appetite to his need for sex—you were always happy to feed him in whatever way possible.

Nikto’s hand rubs up and down your thigh, pulling himself back to grip the both of them tightly and watch, sweat dripping down his throat. The cold eyes widen at the sight of your pussy taking him down one increasingly fast thrust at a time, the shine of your slick staining his thighs, slipping down where it cools and adds to the dichotomy of temperatures.

“Speak,” he licks his lips, pushing your sleep shirt higher up your back with a flexing hand. He needs to watch. Nikto flights down a shaky breath, head tilting to the side as your walls tighten. The Russian groans throatily, clenching his teeth and bearing them like a mutt.

He’s been edging you for hours, a near-cruel way to see your eyes go glossy and drool to pool on the sheets. He almost gave in multiple times—particularly when he’d been tongue-deep into you, running his calloused thumb over your clit as your thighs trapped his head at your core. The remnants still drip from the divots of his facial scars, and he licks at the corner of his mouth to taste once more with a grunt of worshiping satisfaction.

Delicious.

When you can’t utter up more than a writhing whimper, nostrils flaring for air and lungs heaving, you hear his low chuckle before fingers grasp your chin firmly and pull. A tongue finds the side of your angled face as you’re trapped against his bulky chest, his arm strapping your side as the muscle leaves a long stripe of saliva over your jaw.

The angle leaves him thrusting up, and his free hand travels slowly from your waist to your pulsing bundle of nerves, tapping your flesh cunningly as he goes.

You moan brokenly through an agonizing electricity of senses, head snapping back to Nikto’s shoulder as your hips jerk; back arching as the tension in your body grows ever stronger.

You needed it—you needed to let go, feel the devastating breaking of your release slamming through you.

“Speak,” Nikto grinds out into your ear as tears slip from the corner of your eyes—teeth bite all along your neck, thighs smashing into the back of yours. All the while, rapid circles run over your clit, and the sounds follow a feral rhythm that would leave no question to anyone else as to what was going on in this bedroom. It was the way you’d been reduced to nothing but a toy for him to ring pleasure out of that made this perfect—starting so greedily that you’d had him all to yourself this morning; letting his eyes roll into the back of his head as you’d rode him, his arms shaking as his spend had filled you, spilling out over his lower body when he’d finally finished his broken thrusting.

“Nikto,” you stutter, biting your lip and feeling every inch of his cock bringing you closer and closer to an orgasm that you’d been begging for ages to let loose. “Please, fuck, please, I’m so close.”

“Да,” Nikto grunts, holding you closer as you quiver in a deliriously confused arousal, playing with you. He smirks, but you know the tension in his abdomen that builds and builds against your spine. The man pants, cruising out in growled Russian under his breath, heavy and hard. He barks, “Can feel it. We know your little squirms by now, hm? We know that way your eyes roll back—your pretty pussy, Птичка. She is too good for me,” Niko smirks into your skin, taking a deep breath as his fantasies take over, hot breath puffed into your slick flesh. “I can’t help but want to leave her begging one more time, just to watch how she will flutter.”

“Please!” You sob, hands clawing behind to grasp at the man’s head, shoving it further into your neck as your body tightens, legs all but numb. The Russian grumbles in approval, liking the way your nails drag his close-shorn hair. “Fuck, Nikto, please, I need it so bad.”

It was like you’d lost your mind and your dignity all at once.

“We know,” Nikto’s scars move up and down your back, and you can sense every rub and caress of them intimately. To have him in this way was as addictive as it was the first time.

Nikto bites more and more at your shoulders, nipping your ear and inhaling your scent—so much like a dog it was pathetic the way he was obsessed with your body; your orgasm. While you had no trouble coaxing one out of him in whichever way you desired, he always made yours a spectacle and a mystery. Rope, toys, blindfolds…there was only a limit if you said there was one, and that was something that only needed to be said once.

But there was something to be worshipped about the raw, animalistic, desperate fucking with Nikto that never seemed to get old. Especially when it was in your bed, especially when you had watched his cold eyes be blown wide by lust as his cock grew hard, especially when you could spend the rest of the day naked in your penthouse; skin on skin, switching dominance like a coin to be tossed.

Nikto was good at giving you exactly what you wanted, and not an inch less. So different from the standoffish brute that he showed to everyone else. Nonetheless, he was, you suppose, still that same brute—but your brute. And, fuck, if he wasn’t using you like a perfect deadly instrument in his arsenal, making sure you worked properly.

Your breath is cut off to gasped moans, lower body vibrating and cunt so wet that the sloping suck of Nikto’s stained cock was heard and felt far more violently.

The man’s gargantuan hand spreads from your flesh to press into your abdomen, and you sob loudly at the sensation of thin skin above the indent of a prodding mound; nails almost drawing blood from where they drag at Nikto’s head.

“Please,” you repeat as if a broken record. “Oh, Nikto, please, fuck—”

“Shh,” Nikto shushes, still abusing your clit before he presses his previously prodding hand above your heart, in the process, groping at your breast; kneading as you place open-mouthed and saliva-dripping kisses to the beast’s chin—a coy attempt to please him into allowing you your nearing release.

Nikto’s fingers push and pull, and your walls strangle him just right until his balls are betraying him, tensed and near bursting as he grunts and groans, all of his words a garble of gravel and sandpaper.

The accent, while it lets you know he’s just as desperate as you are when it gets like that, only makes the knot in your stomach flare with friction. You loved it when he was minutes away from breaking.

“Want to feel your heart stutter.” It’s more of a command than a suggestion, and your hips try to meet his rutting as best as they can, arms losing strength as the pressure mounts you as Nikto does. Voice a harsh grind, he accentuates his point by pushing you back down the mattress all the way, getting the angle he needs to pound into the softest part of your cunt as you keen so loud you’re thankful you have the place all to yourselves because you can’t stop making sounds you can’t be described. Your body is bent and pushed to the limit, sweat and the scent of sex potent in your nose.

Nikto fucks like it’s the last time you’ll ever take his cock.

“Want to know the exact moment you claw for air again when you gasp it all away, my Птичка. My sweet little Птичка. Drug to my senses, yes? Can never take cunt unless it’s yours,” his voice grows faster, breathier, English words slurring until he divulges into his mother tongue, losing all sense beyond how you suck him in and squeeze him—warm walls inviting and the only place to spill himself. He can’t even jerk off anymore; you’ve ruined it for him.

He needs to fill you up until he has nothing left to give: the only mission that he’d complete time and time again with no complaints or second guesses. The only mission that mattered.

Nikto barks and spits, biting your flesh as you plead one last time.

“Tell me,” you all but shout. “Tell me I can—”

“Да!” Is the reverberating answer, and the way your body immediately responds is nothing short of utter devotion.

Your body seizes, shoving itself into the mattress as the headboard slams into the wall, arching and toes curling—the knot in your core snaps as if cut by a crude knife, sawing you in half as your release gushes to flood out of the ring of Nikto’s plug.

The Russian’s hand over your breast squeezes as you ride out your high on him, Nikto’s own orgasm rising to meet yours as it always does, only able to get off after he knows he’s done a good job of pleasing you. His scarred face buries itself into your neck, mouth open as his silent release is accented by the small, cut-off, grunt he gives with every slowing thrust. The joining of your flooded womb and his shining cock is a milky frothing of cum, sounding like someone slapping thickened water as the sticky juices are a testament to lustful need. They slip down your thighs, as Nikto licks and sucks on your skin, unable to slip himself out of you and your welcoming walls as they flutter.

With every tightening surge of your cunt, he instinctively grinds himself further into you again, and you whine as his lips finally find your mouth, tongue pushing inside, still tasting of your cum. Eyes rolling back, you let his tiny thrusts continue if only to hear his canid-like groans and feel the slap of his balls so close to your puffy clit.

You moan into his mouth as his teeth nip at your lips, sucking at your tongue before the ringing of your ears fades to hear his growls between the wet gasps.

“Get a good taste of us. I’m greedy, yes? Hungry. No worries…you will be our завтрак.”

The rolling over of your body and the spreading of your legs is all but expected, and you lay there with a smirk rising to your sweaty face as the monstrous man slips downward and slots his face right back where it belongs: shoving itself up against your fucked-out cunt, Nikto’s cum slobbering out and mixed with your own.

The first swipe of his greedy, fat tongue has your shaking legs curling around his head as he shudders in arousal, grunting out muffled words as you whine and slam your head back to the pillow.

“Вкусный.”

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

A/N: Literally idk where this came from but, I guess, take some Nikto smut lmao - still writing my reverse Price AU, but this hit me like a truck out of nowhere. Forgive me if this is literally horrible - I wrote it at 10, and I haven't written smut in a hot minute, lol

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skywalkoverme · 28 days ago

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𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

a/n: Rewatched the movie and got a new angle on him...

𐙚James Kelly x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+ MDNI

Summary: James starts chatting with a porn star.

Warnings/contains: dom! male, sub! fem, reader is a porn star, oral (m recieve), car sex, raw sex, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, rough sex, online sex, meetups, choking (m recieve), long distance relationship, somewhat...proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 3.5k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

Present: October 2011

James spent the day cleaning. He washed his sheets and made the bed nicely, fluffed pillows and vacuumed his rugs. In the living room, he wiped down surfaces and dusted any and everything. After months of talking online, today was the day he’d meet you.

In March, James saved enough to buy a laptop. Something nice, sleek and compact; he drove home happily with the box in his passenger seat. The man excitedly ran into the house and quickly set up his laptop on the coffee table. Of course, he initially used it for its natural purposes: digital storage, videos on car maintenance, porn, etc. but he found himself on websites he hadn’t figured existed. Chatrooms and other social media sites.

CHAT WITH HOT GIRLS NOW

Naturally, he clicked the link and ended up on a lewd site with overstimulating images and large text. His face scrunched in disgust, and confusion but he scrolled through the message boxes. He’d seen stuff of this nature on his phone before, sure and he knew a bit about online viruses and how they spread but this site looked a bit different. Legit(?)

He went through the chat boxes, faces and more faces of women in layers of makeup, voluminous or cropped hair, piercings, some without; some dangling handcuffs and others bent in positions holding their undergarments between their teeth.

He switched away from the tab and caught his breath. This was too much. Sure, he was bit hot but none of these photos made him hard. It was too performative. James sighed and spread his thighs, letting his laptop sit on his thighs. He opened the tab again the website forced him to put a card on file. He rolled his eyes and did so. The man clicked the filter for his type.

CLICK MENU FOR MORE

*[Your Race/Ethnicity]

*[Your hair color]

*[Your height]

*[Amateur]

He had to admit, he was curious. Curious and horny. The man found a few women that fit the search and scrolled through the list before he came across your “name”. Princess. He knew it was a stage name, but as he stared at the “ACTIVE” icon, it didn’t matter. He read your short bio: “Video vixen” and proceeded to click ‘chat now’.

Maybe his cursor slipped or something of that nature, but his web cam turned on. He hadn’t noticed it was on as he studied the moving chat tab. You were texting him.

You: Hi, I’m Princess. It’s nice to meet you.

James: Hi, Princess.

You: What’s your name?

James hesitated. He shouldn’t tell you his real name but it’s so common, you’d never figure out his identity. You smiled from the other side of your screen, staring at his face in the corner of your screen.

James: James.

You: You’re very handsome.

James: Thank you. I’m sure you tell every guy that texts you that.

You: Not every guy actually shows his face.

James’ eyebrows furrowed as he read your message over again. I’m not showing my face. He thought to himself.

James: What do you mean?

You: ? Your camera, it’s on.

James’ cheeks turned a bright cherry red before noticing the active camera. He shut his laptop and pushed it aside on the couch. “How embarrassing.” He grumbled to himself and held his hair, clutching the dark locks tightly. I’m so pathetic on that stupid site! How’d I not notice the camera was on?! “Shit.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. He was the first handsome man you’d seen in a long time on this site. It was a shame to see him go but there was no way to connect back unless he did it himself. You waited for the next user to show up on your screen before starting to chat with them.

James had nearly forgotten about the embarrassing accident as he smoked a cigarette and finished cooking his pasta. That was until he sat down on the couch and saw his black laptop on the third cushion. He sighed and flicked on the television; James leaned back and held his bowl of food to his chest, following the football game.

That was rude of me. She probably thinks I’m an asshole. Princess… I never meant to offend you.

He tapped his foot on his rug before opening his laptop. To his surprise, the tab was still open. He watched as the loading throbber spun. CONNECTING YOU TO ‘PRINCESS’ His heart raced as soon as he read the page. Instantly, he was connected back, his camera off this time.

James: I’m sorry

You: Hi! I’m Princess. It’s nice to meet you!

James’ eyebrows furrowed. Of course, this is anonymous. He thought.

James: It’s me, James.

You: Oh!! Hi again.

James: Hi. I want to apologize for leaving the chat like that.

You: It’s ok, I understand if you are busy.

James: No. I was just stunned that my camera was on.

You: If you want, we can both turn our cameras on.

Without much thought, James agrees.

James: Sure, Princess.

You turned on your camera and stared at your screen. It would be an understatement to say that he fell in love with you at first sight. You looked different from your photo but in the best ways. You bit the corner of your bottom lip as you sit in your spill of white sheets on your bed. Pretty pink lingerie covered your body, and a pretty collar held around your throat. He admired the way your hair fell over your shoulders and those large brown eyes that looked deeply at the pixels.

He nearly forgot to turn on his camera! James sat up and wiped any loose seasonings that might’ve been on his shirt. Again, you saw his handsome face and smiled. What a pretty smile. Your teeth aren’t perfect but still white, fitting for your lips.

James was surprised to hear your voice come through the speakers of his laptop: “James! There you are.”

He turned on his mic, “You’re stunning.” He stuttered more than he wanted to admit.

When you smiled this time, your tongue rests between your teeth, “Thank you!” You leaned forward and bit your lip, “Do you want to have fun?” He nodded mindlessly, unaware of his card that was being charged by the minute. “Can I see your cock, James?” Although he lived alone for now seven years, he looked around the room space, “Are you with company?”

He shook his head, palming himself through his jeans. “I- I live alone.”

“I live alone too. What would you do if you were here?”

He exhaled a trembling breath, “I- I’d take that off of you.” James stared at the frills of the lingerie. You undid the top of your lingerie dress and let it fall open. He pulled his hard cock from his jeans at the sight of your perky tits and hard nipples. “T- take it all off.” He stroked himself as you undressed, small moans escaping as you revealed yourself to him.

Day after day, paycheck after the next, he’d completely fallen for you. Eventually, you felt terrible for taking his money and decided to text/call him through your socials.

It was one night as he lay on his side, he asked: “What’s your name?” You sat up across the barrier of the screen and touched your lips nervously. “I promise, I won’t do anything bad…I just want to know.”

“…Y/n.” He smiled at your vulnerability and soon, you smirked with him.

It’s now October and the turning leaves began to gather in piles in front yards and along streets. You trusted him enough with your number, not only that, but he also made you his “girlfriend.” He called you on the way back from the corner store; a bag in his left hand and the phone pressed to his ear. “…I love you.” You said softly. He blushed, a pip in his step from the lovey feeling. This honeymoon-stage never ended. He’s fully and deeply in love with every aspect of you.

Present

Your legs trembled as you sat in the back of the Uber, holding your knees, you took deep breaths. The car stopped and you held your breath, staring at the man that walked around the car and opened the trunk. You stepped out, your eyes wide like a deer in headlights as James grabbed your suitcase and placed it on the sidewalk.

The car pulled away and you stood in front of him. “Hi.” He raised a hand to your cheek and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Let’s go inside.” You agreed quietly and he took your hand into his, “I, uh, know you like Italian so I made reservations for tonight…only if you’re hungry.” You looked around the space as he admired you in your pink tracksuit.

“We can stay in…” You shrugged and held your hands behind your butt. “If that’s ok?”

He scratched the back of his head and held his neck, “S- sure! Yes.” The man followed you as you took your own tour of his home, touching his belongings, opening drawers and smiling all the while.

“Who’s this?” You moved out the way of the photos on the media center.

“That’s my brother.” He said gruffly and walked past you towards the kitchen. “Do you want a drink? Water, or uh, tea? I bought lavender because it’s your favorite.” When he turned around, you were right behind him. “Oh! H, hi.”

“Hi…may I admit something?” You asked, your eyes ran up his tatted forearms

“Yes.” He held the counter that you backed him into.

“I did a background check on you.” He gulped and took a deep breath, “Can I know what you did to receive the charge? Aggravated assault with a deadly weapon?” He stuttered for a moment, “I just…want to be safe.”

“You are safe! I would never hurt you, Y/n. I hope you know that.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” You smiled, your hand rubbed his forearm and down to his hand. James’ fingers interlaced with yours, “Tell me.”

“Uhm, I went to prison a few years ago for robbing a bank. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I swear but the gun went off and this lady got hurt.” This wasn’t your first time dealing with an ex-con, but this was James. He’s nothing like them. “Do you want water?”

“Sure.” He quickly turned and poured you a glass of cold water before offering it to you. “It’s very clean in here.”

Yes! “I just tidied up some.” He shrugged.

“Right…” You chuckled, “Can I use your bathroom?” You’d never say it now, but you were sweating like never before beneath this top. He directed you to the bathroom and rest against the wall, his arms crossed as he began to overthink. Does she like the place? She seems hesitant. Well, I’m still a stranger. I hope she doesn’t think I’m trying to kill her! Shit, she’ll leave when I fall asleep. Damn. I can’t fall asleep or----

You left the bathroom and held your jacket over your arm. You were surprised to see him directly outside of the door, but you knew him as a clingy guy. He nodded and followed you into the living room. “Can I see your car?” The car he'd mentioned a million times by now.

“My car? Yeah!” He excitedly grabbed his keys, and you followed him. He unlocked the doors; however, you excitedly circled the car, careful with the black paintjob. “You like it?” You nodded and watched as he popped the hood. “I put in a turbocharger.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” He placed a finger over your lips, and you smiled. “I won’t tell.”

“Get in.” Without a second thought, you climbed into the passenger side. When James joined you, your hand rested on his thigh. “How about Hyde Park and back?” You agreed and heard the roar of his engine. He pulled away from the curb and peeled off down the street.

You rest your hand on the dashboard, feeling the soft rumble of the well-built engine. “…that’s sweet.” James blushes and holds the steering wheel with one hand.

“Thank you, Princess.” Your forearms rests on the window as you leaned out, allowing the wind to blow through the bundles of hair, pushing and tossing each strand around. “Are you comfortable?”

“I am.” After a minute of your shy admiration of his features, you began to undo his belt buckle. James’ expression clashed with surprise and confusion, “Is this ok?” He nodded as your hand found its way into his boxers. His legs naturally spread to your touch while he glanced between the road and your large, brown eyes. The man’s nerves spiked as your ran your tongue over his soft cockhead, the firm shaft in your small hand.

It'd been years since he felt the touch, the feel of a woman. But, never had he been with someone as beautiful as you. You pumped his shaft while slobbering over his cock; your fingertips carried the warm saliva down. “Fuck…” He moaned under his breath, his foot pressed on the brake as the car approached a red light. When he reached for your window’s switch, you bought his hand to your ass. “…Y/n.” He squeezed your butt firmly as he drove, ignoring passersby.

Your head bobbed on James’ cock, and he brought your head lower on his length. “Just like that. Shit, your throat is amazing.” James grunted as he tried to focus on the road. He took a sharp right turn at the avenue and rocked you to the side. “’M sorry!” You kept sucking his cock, seemingly harder than before. “A- alright, baby~ you’re such a good girl.” He sighed, doing his best to park along an empty street. His eyelids fluttered close as your cock buried in your soft throat. You were amused by the sounds that came from his mouth. He might bust right in your throat at this rate---

You stopped sucking and stroked his length at a tormentingly slow rate. You moved against him, your lips on his ear; suckling and pecking on the skin with your plump lips. “Fucking hell…” His hips thrust to your firm pumps around his shaft; a hand grabbed your hair, his fingers in between the tangles as you terrorized his body with these heavenly sensations. He guided your head lower and you continued to suckle kisses down his abdomen and back to his cock. “Sweetheart.”

You choked and sputtered as he gave you his full length, the thick head hit the back of your throat while tears streamed down your cheeks and onto his jeans. “Oh, baby~” His breath shook as your throat closed around him; your tongue swirled around his base. He panted; his head rested back while his hips jerked. You sucked him with renewed energy, your mascara running with every bob on your hair. He gathered the falling strands in his hand and used it to move your head. “I…I’m gonna cum.” James’ words trailed off into a moan. You felt his cock throb and pulse in your mouth.

He emptied himself into your throat, keeping your head down as the come spilled out of your mouth and onto his bush of hair. You gagged on his come and he pulled your head up; you coughed and brushed your tears away. He caught his breath and kissed your sweating forehead. She’s a fucking professional.

“Are you ok?” You asked him with a laugh.

“I- mhh.” He watched you swallow the last bits of cum around your mouth. “Yes.” James kissed your knuckles, “Let’s go home.”

“And do what?” Your finger poked your cheek.

James loomed over your body; his hand caught under your panties; fingers spread open as he rubbed your hip. Your skin is soft beyond belief against his toughened hands. He licked your neck with the flat of his tongue while the cross pendant around his neck pressed on your breasts. With ease, you wrapped your legs around him, your hands sunk into his hair, curling the short locks around your forefinger.

He took a moment to lay between your raised knees, his head on your welcoming bosom. The scent of you was exactly how he imagined: a creamy coconut, some lavender mixed in, bergamot. He didn’t know all that, but he could say that you smelled heavenly.

For a moment, he peered up at you with curious blue eyes through long eyelashes. Your finger ran over his soft cheekbones and his eyes shut under your touch. She’s real. His arms tightened around your bare waist, and he kissed your nipples, taking his time with either one. He rose up once more and captured your bottom lip into his mouth. His tongue pushed past your lips, deep into your mouth.

How was it that you looked at him with such love? He felt like he was violating some sacred boundary when he touched you. Although you’re no saint, without a doubt, you’re an angel. And him? Far from either.

His hand on your waist was gentle as it pulled your panties down and off. You enjoyed the pressure of his weight when he laid on you; he’s like a security blanket of sorts; you clung to him as he found your lips again.

A moan left James’s mouth while his fingers traced the folds of your pussy. He couldn’t help it, your little pussy fit right in his hand. James took a moment to admire the glistening pussy in his hand, already slick with need. His cock throbbed painfully against the confines of his shorts; his sensitive cockhead tortured itself in his boxers.

He pulled his cock from his boxers and let it rest over your warm pussy. James groaned and wrapped his arms around you, his lips on the center of your chest. He peered up at you and with a tender thrust, he filled the walls of your cunt. “Nghh~ P- princess!” James grumbled and let out a deep sigh. Your silky walls were gripping his length like a chokehold; James savored the moments he rests inside of you…each exhale on your breasts. Your hands trembled when he spreads your sensitive core wide.

Lust consumed your boyfriend as he began to move his hips; the force of his thrusts jostling the bed. His body grinds deliciously against your aching clit. Your pussy clutched him harder around his plundering shaft, wanting to draw him in deeper.

James hoisted your legs over his elbows and pressed your back to his headboard, your ankles rest over his broad shoulders. He breathes harshly out his mouth; “You’re so tight~” You hold his reddened neck in your hands, choking him as he drilled into your pussy.

“I know, baby~” His eyelids flutter closed from your grip. The pleasure sent straight to his shaft and heavy balls.

“Fuck!” His shaft fucked your suckling cervix, and your head fell back with the pace change. Your teeth clenched as your chest sunk with each deep exhale. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours as your bodies grind against each other. James’s hands gripped your hips tightly, you felt as if the skin would bruise from his hold. “…I can feel you cumming.” You licked your lips when he said that your orgasm mixed with his precum as he drilled into you.

His swollen cockhead pushed through your cunt; each stretch left you moaning with need. You gripped his throat tighter, your expression devolved into a helpless and needy look. But James couldn’t stop, not when you felt like this.

He turned you over on the bed, so you lay on your back in the mess of sheets. He captured one of your stiff nipples between his lips; a hand pushed one of your legs back beside your head. He licked the sensitive tit and kept it in his mouth while you cried out, your hands clung tightly to the covers.

James could feel his orgasm build in his crotch, the feeling stirred and mixed deep in his balls. He fought to hold back and drew his cock from your perfect heat. His swollen cockhead grinds against your hard clitoris. “A- ahh!” You screamed while your legs shook with pleasure. His cockhead finds the center of your clitoris and makes your head push back into the sheets; every muscle tensed beneath him.

“Cum for me, princess.” He grinds harder and leans over your spasming body. He kissed your trembling lips, “I know, baby.” He cooed and moved strands of hair from your face, his palm rests on your temple. He inhaled every harsh breath you let out and chuckled. “Let me hear you…”

Each torturous stroke made your eyes roll back. You couldn’t move, let alone speak. “You’re right there, aren’t you?” He kissed your lips and thrusts himself back inside of you. Your orgasm shot through your spine down to your core and across the sensitive nerves of your cunt. Your jaw slackened as your body came undone. “Good job~” He buried himself deeper inside of your spasming cunt, emptying himself against your pursed cervix.

a/n: this was a long one for me lol

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misahyochaeng · 7 months ago

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Webcam Honey >.< !!

(Sana x Fem! Reader) 🔞

tw: cam!girl reader, dom!sana, sub!reader, established relationship, humiliation, LOTS of dirty talk, fingering, degrading, cunnilingus, edging, vibrator, overstimulation, praise, strapon. (NOT PROOFREAD!!)

summary: You and your girlfriend have a ritual of going on a fancy date once a month due to both of you guys normally having busy schedules. But today, you got kind of caught up…

—

The lights were slightly dimmed to set the mood, body glistening with sweat as you went to work on your pussy, knuckles and palm covered with a thick coating of pussy slick that dripped down by small drops onto your mattress; you stared at the camera infront of you, donations flooding by on your second monitor with messages from old men and virgin perverts with no life praising how sexy you looked and telling you how they wanted to touch you.

Being honest, it was gross, but it worked out, knowing you could pleasure yourself almost daily just to earn a solid hundred-bucks, you began doing it as a profession.

You cupped your clothed tit, a lacy pair of red lingerie barely covering up your chest as you pinched and toyed with your erect nipple, holding eye contact with the camera as you put on rather exaggerated faces in pleasure.

That was until you heard your front door open and footsteps getting closer, “Baby, i just got back from my cousin’s!” she exclaimed before she opened the door with a smile “Just gotta put on some fancy clothes before we…” She took in the sight, cameras propped up as you toyed with your pussy, now muted, obviously. “head out…”

She sighed, playing off a small hue of pink on her cheeks, trying to maintain her composure, “Interesting.. I thought you said you don’t stream on our date nights..” she sulked a bit. “F-Fuck babe—, It’s tonight?..” you furrowed your brows as you stared at her, lowering the camera angle to your lower body so they wouldn’t see you talking to your lover. “Yes, honey, it’s tonight that we have our monthly date.” she eyed you up and down, jaw clenching a bit in annoyance as she realized you forgot something so meaningful to her.

“I’m sorry my love, i forgot.” You put on a pout as you put your movements to a halt, realizing the situation becoming serious. “You forgot it was our date night?” she interrupted, “I’m sorry, baby, please i’ll make it up to you.”

Sana scoffed “Uhuh.” She bit the inside of her cheek in annoyance, narrowing her eyes are she stared you down. “Are you mad at me?..” you frowned, a wave of guilt rushing your body, not even daring to look her way from how shameful you felt, toying your pussy rather than getting ready for your date.

“Can they hear me?” Sana pointed at the mic you had placed near you “Wait, Sha.. don’t—“ she tapped the unmute button. “Hey stream!” She adjusted the camera back onto you both as she smiled rather enthusiastically, completely different to how she was acting when she was away from the camera. “What are you doing” you asked concerned as you tried to adjust yourself, trying to stop Sana.

“What do you mean what am i doing, just saying hi..” She smiled softly, eyes beady as she stared at the camera, a small wink thrown onto the lense as she giggled, “Y’know… my girlfriend must REALLY love her little fans, since she completely forgot about our date tonight and instead wants to play with herself infront of you guys!” she retorted inbetween gritted teeth, looking directly at you through the camera. “You must feel sooo special, don’t you?” she clenched her jaw even harder, knuckles growing with from her tight fist.

“Love, please I forgot, it was just a mistake.” You caressed her arm, squeezing it a bit to reassure her, Sana glared at you “Let’s make this little ‘mistake’ never happen again, alright?” she used air quotes as she crossed her arms, the chat flooding with questions and multiple arguments, if it were up to you, you’d end the stream and delete the account by now, thought your girlfriend had other things in mind.

“Plus.. even if you make mistakes the first time, you still need lessons, right?” You twitched, hand extending to finally end the life, she pulled you down by your wrist “Don’t end the stream, baby, the show must go on, no?” You whined. “Go ahead, keep playing with yourself.” Sana sat next to you now, legs and arms crossed as she stared at your soaking wet cunt, eyes darkening with lust.

“Baby please, i’m shy..” You closed up your legs, redness trailing down to your collarbones as you began shielding your body off. “Oh you’re shy now? Is it because i’m here watching you play with that dirty pussy?” her voice turned husky as she leaned closer, whispering in your ear

You felt the heat inbetween your legs grow as you squirmed at her hot breath against your ear. “Guess i’ll help you, princess.” she ran her fingers up and down your slit ever-so slowly, her gaze fixed on your center like a predator waiting to feast on its meek prey. “Aww, look how wet your pussy is.” she teased, voice laced with pity and she showed you off to all the people watching. “Poor chat, you can look, but you can’t touch. This is all mine.”

She bit down on your neck, leaving kisses and purple bruises right where your ear and jaw connect, every touch from her sending a shiver down your spine. “But you sick fucks probably get turned on by this, no?” she eyed the camera as she began to rub your clit, mouth still hungrily latched on to your neck.

She stuck her fingers in, your body jolting forward as you moaned loudly for her, your wet pussy sucking up her fingers easily, “Gosh, baby, that moan was so hot.” she pumped her fingers at a steady pace, “Same as the sound of how wet you are for me.” Sana wrapped her hand around your neck and pulled you into a kiss.

“Just love going in and out of this pretty cunt..” she bit your bottom lip before going back to your jaw, she eyed your main monitor for a sec, the number of views growing up to almost more than four digits “Well look at that, the viewer count really grew.. maybe if i have a hundred more people on, i’ll use a vibrator on her, hm?” Your eyes widen as you were about to protest, but was quickly cut off by her fingers curling deep inside you, your pussy clenching against them.

“Don’t complain, baby, i know your pussy gets so wet when you get fucked infront of a bunch of people.. especially when we did it in that balcony, got so noisy for me, i bet everyone knew how good i was making you feel.” She pumped her fingers hard as she smirked, your noises growing with each and every ministration.

“You just like getting treated like a fuck-doll, don’t you?” you nodded profusely, Sana letting out a cocky chuckle as she began to talk to the camera again. “Can you hear those slutty moans, and she goes even crazier when i use my tongue like this..”She leaned down and latched onto your puffy clit, you squeezed her head with your thighs as you pushed her deeper; though she was quick to pull apart.

“Fuck—no, baby please..” you whined loudly before grabbing her by the wrist towards your cunt. “Aww, you want me to eat you out, baby? After forgetting our planned date? You selfish fucking whore.” She pumped her fingers even harder, curling deeper than before.

“Beg, beg me to eat that wet pussy.” she spit on your cunt before dipping her fingers in again. “Gosh—Fuck, Baby please.. PleASE..” she slapped your cunt, “Come on, you can do louder than that.” and so you did, practically screaming and begging with no shame for her to eat your cunt. “That’s my girl”

She wasted no time and dipped into your center, vile groans and moans leaving her mouth as she slurped and licked, her noises vibrating against your cunt as your thick pussy slick coated down her chin; her defined nose rubbing your clit from time to time, giving you even more stimulation.

She sucked like her life depended on it, like someone who hasn’t eaten for days, enjoying their final meal, your taste drove her insane and she couldn’t have enough. You tangled your fingers in her brunette hair as you threw your head back in pleasure, she smirked against your pussy at every reaction you gave her, spitting on your cunt again before dipping back in; you felt the knot forming in your stomach.

“You gonna cum, baby” Sana looked up at you, locking eyes as she bobbed her head on your cunt, paying attention to inside your pussy and your puffy clit. You nodded desperately as you pushed her head further, with a harsh smack of her lips, she pulled apart—“No.”

“Baby, please—“ she shut you up with a kiss, “Not yet, love, we made it to a thousand more views, i promised id use the vibrator on you. Now lay down slut.” You were about to protest but hesitated, doing as she asked, she put a vibrator wand right on your clit, turning it on the medium setting.

You gripped the bedsheets, legs shaky as you moaned non-stop, Sana giggled, “So fucking pathetic, just moaning away.” your lip quivered as you shut your eyes, knowing that you weren’t gonna hold the urge to cum any longer; one of your hands went to hold onto Sana’s arm, which was moving around—going up and down with the toy on your puffy pussy..

“Look at her just squirming around and holding onto my arm so helplessly..” she bit her lip as the talked to the viewers, she was holding back—a lot—she wanted to fuck you then and there, to make you feel good. She good practically cum just by the sound of your moans, but she knew you had to learn your lesson.

She leaned in to whisper in your ear. “When i’m done with you, you’ll be a filthy cumming mess.” she nibbled on your earlobe before landing a tender peck on your jaw. You felt the knot forming again, and you knew you couldn’t hold it “Babe—Close, please I—“ She interrupted “Shhh…you can take it” you protested—“Please!”— Her voice turned stricter this time—“Baby i know you can take it.”

You tried pushing her hand away, you knew the stimulation was too much and you’d cum without her permission. Sana landed a harsh slap on your pussy, “Stop fucking moving.” she bit back in annoyance, you put your head down in shame. “If you can take forgetting our date you can take this, bitch. Move my hand away again and i’m turning it up.” She pulled you harshly by your jaw so you’d look at her, you stared with lidded eyes, too fucked senseless to even think properly, you nodded.

You screamed as you pushed her hand away again, quick to regret it, “You’re just fucking asking for it, aren’t you?” she turned up the setting to the maximum, pressing down on your pussy.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you begged her to stop, voice cracking and body shaking while your breath hitched. “Sana, please—Fucks sake!” Sana put on a fake pout as she pressed it down more, a scream coming out of your lips that even the neighbors could hear, “Aww you wanna cum? Say ‘please Sana can i cum?’”.

“Pl—ease.. Sana— fuck.. can I cUM!” Sana pressed a gentle kiss to your lips “Cum for me, my love.”

And with those simple words, you quickly came undone for her, vision turning blurry as you arched your back, body spasming, knuckles turning white from how hard you gripped the sheets, collapsing on the mattress. “Good girl, baby..” she teased as she landed a peck on your cheek, the vibrator on max setting still on your clit. “Baby, please.. I can’t take it anymore.” tears ran down your eyes as you stammered with your words, “I’m not done with you yet baby, you’ve been doing such a good job.” the vibrator was collected with slick, the mattress sheets stained as your inner thighs glowed under the light.

“You’re so pretty when your eyes roll back like that, love” she stick her tongue on and lick that one sensitive spot on your neck. “I know you love being tortured like this, whore.”

Tears ran down your cheeks, “Aw, you’re tearing up? It’s okay baby, one more minute.” She payed attention to your neck again, going down to your collarbones to nibble and leave marks at them too.

She turned it off.

“Bend over, baby.” she reached for the strap harness, a purple dildo attached to it. “Face the camera, i want everyone to see the faces you do when i make you feel this good.” you obeyed, though protesting a bit at facing the camera. She lined her tip in, sliding it up and down to lube it up with your wetness. “Aww look how—“ she whined as she stuck it in “pretty you are.. fuck..” she began moving her hips slowly “Gosh it’s already soaking wet..” the room felt hot as she groaned and moved her hips, skin slapping echoing the room.

“Mmm…Baby your moans are so pretty..” she put her hands on your hips, toying and squeezing the skin there. “Come on, tell the stream how much of a slut you are, begging to be used.” you stammered, trying to speak but you felt good—too fucking good. “Come on..speak up, baby.”

“I’m— hnghh.. i’m sorry, please.” Sana put on a sarcastic facade as she faked gasped “Oh you’re sorry huh? You’re sorry?” You nodded. “Well let’s see how sorry you are now, bitch” She began thrusting at a rough pace, your mouth falling open as your tits swinged forward and backward at every thrust. Sana looked at the viewer count again, “Damn, basically everyone is here.. just watching your pretty pussy get fucked.” you screamed her name.

“Hmm? Does that turn you on, huh? Having everyone watching all the lewd faces and slutty noises from my strap, hm?” you nodded as your hand rose to cover your mouth, a cracking noise was heard as a stinging pain rose to your ass, Sana landed a harsh slap on it.

“Move your fucking hand.” She stopped her thrusts to warn you before going back to fucking you hard and good again. “You’re lucky i don’t have my handcuff and gag, bitch. I want you creaming all over this strap.” She angled herself deeper, your pussy squelching echoing the room, “Such a nasty bitch.”

She grabbed you by the shoulder and lifted you up a bit, hips still going to work, “Come here baby.” she pressed her lips onto yours, humming in delight as your saliva exchanged, knowing you were tasting yourself on your lips right now. “Good slut, now admit to the chat that you love getting fucked infront of people.”

“I-I loved getting fucking infront of people..” you said inbetween moans “Yeah? you liked getting ruined infront of everyone, Y/N?” she angled it deeper than before, hand going down to rub your clit in figure eights. “Fuck—Yes, mommy.”

Sana’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, “Fuck, you know how much it turns me on when you call me mommy.” She gripped onto your tits for support as she fucked you even harder, guttural groans escaping her lips as she fucked you at an animalistic pace, the mattress creaking and shaking harshly.

Sana moaned as the strap rubbed her clothed clit, “You gonna cum, baby? Cum for me. Fucking cum for me.” She stuck her fingers in your mouth as she helped you ride her high, back arching as you seized and twitched on her, Sana wrapping you in a warm embrace as you laid groggily on the bed, fucked stupid.

Sana stood up and reached for the camera, “Well this was just a one time thing.. I need to uhm..” she stared at you for a moment, drool dripping on the corner of your lips as you laid there, eyes closed “take care of this lady…”

She fumbled with the controls.

“How do you turn off this thi—“

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