#the call's coming from inside your own dash

[jlf23tumble]

i'm so ready for the new wave of fandom. out with the old larrie guard and hello to a new era where we can use basic reasoning skills and be like no yeah those guys were super weird about each other back in the day for reasons we may never understand but oh well it's still fun to think about and discuss and reminisce etc. ready to just support whatever they're (separately) doing in present day without the exhausting exercise of analyzing every little thing through bluegreen glasses.

Hard same! And I think the new wave is out there and swelling, they just don't know where to go--the loud voices are fucking loud about it, but I like to think their days are numbered, as is their sweet, sweet validation via follower count/engagement (alas, I'll never know for sure, but there are some subtle chunks of negative space where once there wasn't much--I'm a pro lurker, lmao). Anyway, I love this ask, co-signed!

[heizlut]

omg this is the first time i do this bc i always think i become a burden when i request sth🫠 BUT I PLUCKED MY COURAGE BC I LOVE YOU AND I HAVE A BOMB ASS IDEA BUT MY WRITING CAPABILITIES CANNOT DO IT JUSTICE. Ok so🫢 childhoofriend!/meandom!genshu lin x childhoodfriend!/sub!reader x childhoodfriend!/teasedom!jiyan after the war (lets pretend genshu didnt disappear/get unalived) and they release their pent up emotions by doing the deed and of course reader is more than happy to welcome them. Reader has enough holes for the two as you said😚😚

POOKIEEEE ILYSM🥹🫶🏼 i hope you like this!!!!!

What are Best Friends For?

〰cw: none

〰tags: sub fem!reader, mean dom!geshu lin, teasing dom!jiyan, all childhood besties with each other, creampie, unprotected sex, oral m!receiving, double penetration, anal, a lil degradation, throat fucking, a dash of stinky angst in the beginning

〰nsfw under the cut

〰m!list here

You always worried for your two best friends considering they were always at each other's throats, always arguing about battle strategies, what was right and wrong, or accusing the other of spending more time with you. You still did your best to act as a mediator or to provide them with whatever type of support they needed, no questions asked.

And right now, they both needed you. More than ever.

၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂

Standing in the middle of battleground, the retroact rain surrounds both of them and all of Geshu Lin's soldiers. If looks could kill, Jiyan would be dead on the spot with the way Geshu Lin glowers at him. Jiyan stands his ground, "This isn't right. There's something wrong with this rain. It would be wise to retreat unless you really want everyone to die here."

Geshu Lin's tongue runs across his teeth before speaking in a biting tone, "Last I checked, you were only a combat medic." He scoffs, speaking again with disdain, "If thousands of my men must die, then so be it. Now shut up and keep moving." Jiyan stands there as the general turns away, barking orders at his soldiers, rage and concern bubbling up inside of him.

They both promised you they would be safe, that they would return home to you unscathed. But with Geshu Lin's bullheaded pride, the chances of coming home to the girl they both loved in their own way seemed unlikely. Jiyan couldn't allow Geshu Lin to go through with this.

"General, listen to me", he calls out. Geshu Lin ignores him at first continuing on until Jiyan's next words make him stop dead in his tracks. "What about y/n...? We made her a promise. Do you truly intend to break it?", Jiyan's voice is sad, almost desperate. Desperate for his arrogant childhood friend to just listen to him for once.

Geshu Lin stands still for a few moments before partially turning back to face Jiyan with narrowed eyes. He can see the sincerity and concern in Jiyan's expression, making something twist inside of his chest. "Put aside your pride, Geshu... Stop this before there is no going back", he pleads with deep resolution.

Geshu Lin grits his teeth, fully turning to look at Jiyan. "I'm doing this because of y/n, not because you personally told me to retreat", he growls out. Relief washes over Jiyan's features, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂

You stand there pacing back and forth by the front window of your house, gnawing at your fingernails, worried as hell for the men you cared for so deeply. Only a few moments later do you hear their voices as they walk up the path towards your home, arguing with each other as usual.

You throw open your front door, running out to meet them with teary eyes and a smile that wobbles as you try not to cry tears of relief, "You're back! I was so worried I-" Jiyan pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly, nuzzling his nose into your hair and breathing in your sweet scent.

"No need to worry anymore, I'm here...", he coos softly earning him a harsh glare from Geshu Lin. Geshu Lin pulls you from Jiyan's grasp and into his own embrace. "I'm here too", he speaks through gritted teeth, keeping his golden eyes narrowed at Jiyan who gives him an incredulous look in return.

You breathe out a laugh as Geshu Lin practically squeezes the life out of you, "I'm happy you're both here." You pull back slightly, only able to because Geshu Lin allows you. You look between the two of them with a little smile, "Let's not fight. We're all here together, so let's enjoy this moment." Geshu Lin grumbles and Jiyan gives a hint of a smile.

"Tell me what I can do to make you both happy", you speak, eyes flitting between the two pairs of intense golden eyes as you offer a solution like you always do. Geshu Lin's lips twitch up in a slight smirk which Jiyan catches, releasing a breath as he addresses him, "Be nice, Geshu..." You raise a brow and Geshu Lin's smirk widens as something glimmers in his dangerous gaze, "No promises."

With that, Geshu Lin scoops you up, making you yelp in surprise as he carries you over his shoulder, practically kicking your door down as he enters your home with Jiyan following behind.

Once inside, Geshu Lin sets you down on the bed unceremoniously which makes you laugh out of both surprise and amusement. Jiyan stands by the edge of your bed, watching Geshu Lin's every move, golden eyes flickering between the two of you.

Geshu Lin begins to peel of his clothes piece by piece with a smirk plastered on his fierce but handsome face. His toned muscles ripple in the soft light of your room, pale cock twitching against his abdomen. Jiyan follows suit, stripping off his clothes and tossing them in a pile on the floor.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you take in the sight of your two best friends bared before you. Their bodies are different yet similar, equally captivating and littered with old scars. Jiyan is the first to move, kneeling between your legs as his hands travel up your thighs, "You're going to be a good girl for us, yeah?"

You breathe out a small 'yes', to his words, making the corners of his lips curl up as he stands back up, both men looking down at you with a mix of danger and pleasure in their eyes. "Then strip", Geshu Lin chimes in with a sharp command as he slowly strokes his cock.

Your breath hitches at his command. Sure this wasn't anything new between the three of you, but only ever separately. You never thought you would be pleasing them both at the same time, but you would do absolutely anything for them. You strip off your tank top and bra, nipples hardening as the cool air of your room brushes over them.

Next comes your shorts, fingers fumbling the with button and zipper as you tug them down your legs along with your panties, exposing yourself fully to your friends' hungry grazes. You watch as they exchange a glace, their silent communication passing through them as though they've finally agreed on something for once.

Their eyes linger on your body as if committing every inch of you to memory. They both approach with predatory grace, Geshu Lin stands close to your face and Jiyan stands in front of your spread legs. Geshu Lin takes your chin in his free hand, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Here's how this is gonna work, doll. You're gonna lay back and put your head over the side of the bed so I can fuck that pretty mouth of yours", his voice steady and commanding.

He nods his head towards Jiyan, "And Jiyan here is gonna play with that pussy." "But don't you even think about cumming until I give you permission to do so", he growls out.

All you can do is nod before you lay back, positioning yourself in the way Geshu Lin told you to. Your head hangs off the side of the bed, Geshu Lin's cock throbbing in front of you as Jiyan crouches between your legs once more, licking his lips at the sight of your twitching hole.

Jiyan's fingers trace over your folds, spreading them as he exposes your wetness. Two fingers tease your entrance, watching intently as your juices glisten in the soft light and make his digits slick.

A soft gasp has your lips parting, allowing Geshu Lin to angle his cock into your mouth. A low groan escapes his lips when he pushes past your soft lips and stretches your mouth open.

The sudden intrusion makes you clench around nothing as Geshu Lin's taste floods your senses. A garbled moan rises from your throat as you feel Jiyan's fingers press against your wet entrance, teasing you before pushing inside. The dual sensations make your body quiver with need and lust.

Each noise you make sends shockwaves of pleasure through Geshu Lin's cock, making him thrust a little deeper. He reaches down, squeezing your breasts in his hands as if using them to anchor himself to you. "Fuuuck... That's right, doll. Take my cock", he moans as he forces his length deeper down your throat, making you choke slightly.

Jiyan's fingers continue to pump into you, his own cock throbbing with need when he feels you clench around his soaked digits, desperate for something bigger to fill you up. His thumb finds your swollen clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive nub.

When Jiyan's finger curl up against your spongy, sweet spot, your back arches up, pushing your chest further into Geshu Lin's grasp. Geshu Lin releases one of your breasts only for his palm to crack down against it, making you let out a choked cry around his cock.

"You better hold off that orgasm, doll. I haven't finished yet", he growls. Jiyan chuckles as you writhe against the sheets, fingers continuously curling up inside of you. "Aww, having a tough time, love?", he coos teasingly, relishing in the way your body aches for more.

You try to speak, to beg them to allow you to cum, but all that comes out are muffled whimpers around Geshu Lin's throbbing cock. You squirm again, helpless against Jiyan's expert fingers, feeling as though your body is on fire. With a snarling growl, Geshu Lin pulls out of your mouth as you gasp for air, "Fuck it. Get on your hands and knees. I'd rather cum in your ass instead."

Jiyan's eyes snap up to his at his sudden change of mind, but pulls his fingers out of you, making you whine at the loss. Jiyan slides onto the bed, leaning back against your headboard as he beckons you towards him, cock twitching and leaking against his stomach, "Why don't you come up here and ride my cock, love?"

Geshu Lin gives him a sharp glare as he interferes with his plans. As you sit up, you look between the two men, one with a playful smirk on his lips as he pats his lap invitingly and the other has a dangerous look in his eyes that dares you to go against him. Geshu Lin scoffs when you crawl over to Jiyan, straddling his lap instead of following his orders.

Jiyan's smirk widens at your choice as he looks up at Geshu Lin, "Uh oh, seems she might have a favorite~" Geshu Lin snarls at his teasing words, but his eyes can't tear away from watching as you sink down on Jiyan's thick cock with a shuddering moan. Jiyan lets out his own breathy groan, eyes fluttering and head lolling back as he bottoms out inside of you.

Geshu Lin's own cock aches and leaks, still desperate to finish what he started. He climbs into the bed, positioning himself behind you. He grabs your hair, twisting it in his fist as he tugs your head back, "I'm not gonna let you two have all the fun."

He presses a searing kiss to your lips before releasing you as Jiyan's hands slide up your waist, pulling you to lean forward against him. With this new angle, Geshu Lin can see the girth of Jiyan's cock stretching out your cunt and your little asshole twitching in anticipation.

Finally, a little smirk plays on his lips as he lines up his tip with your smaller hole, spitting on it and watching as his saliva drips down towards Jiyan's cock. You suck in a breath when you feel it push and tease against the small ring of muscle.

Jiyan licks up your neck, nipping at your pulse point before pressing a soft kiss in the same spot. His breath ghosts against your slick skin as he teases you, "Relax... You can take it, can't you?"

You bite your bottom lip and nod, making the corners of his lips curl up as his eyes lock with Geshu Lin's in a silent confirmation before pressing another kiss to your neck, "Good girl." You let out a sharp cry as Geshu Lin pushing his cock into your ass the same time that Jiyan thrusts up into your wet cunt.

Geshu Lin hisses as your tight muscles throttle his length, "Fucking relax... Shit...." You feel so incredibly full having both of them inside of you at once, the sensation is utterly overwhelming. You try to hard to relax despite the insane stretch in both of your holes as your body struggles to accommodate them.

Jiyan reaches down, playing with you clit to help ease the pressure. "You're our good girl, aren't you, love..." You relax a little, your breasts squished against his broad chest as you whimper.

Jiyan's eyes flit back to Geshu Lin's with a nod. With zero warning, both men begin to thrust into you holes, making you gasp and moan so beautifully for them.

Both men let out husky groans, eyes rolling back as their cocks rub against each others through the thin layer of skin that separates them. The extra pressure and stimulation sends them reeling as they begin a steady, but brutal rhythm.

Jiyan's cock hits the deepest parts of you, pressing up against your cervix with each deep thrust, while Geshu Lin's cock pushes deep into your unexplored depths.

Tears spring in your eyes from both pleasure and pain. Jiyan continues to rub your clit furiously, bringing back that familiar heat that coils up inside of you as they ravish your holes.

Geshu Lin grips your jaw, tilting your head back as he kisses you with a heated and possessive passion. His tongue pushes and moves against yours as his grip tightens and his hips buck forward erratically.

Watching his friends kiss each other sloppily sparks a possessive and jealous flame within Jiyan. Wanting to bring your attention back to him, he grips your hips and thrusts up especially hard, smirking when you gasp against his friend's lips.

Geshu Lin rolls his eyes as he pulls away from your lips, but moves his hand down to your throat, squeezing lightly. "You're pathetic, you know that?", he scoffs.

You can't tell if that comment was meant for you or for Jiyan but the degradation of his words has you clenching down on both their cocks, making them moan.

Jiyan rubs your clit faster as he spurs on your impending orgasm, "Come on, baby. Cum for us." Your eyes flutter and Geshu Lin applies more pressure to your throat as he whispers harshly in your ear, "I wanna feel you squeeze my cock again. Bet you like being fucked in the ass, huh, doll?"

You whimper, wanting to protest but that would be a fucking lie. It doesn't take long for the coil inside of you to snap as your juices gush all over Jiyan's cock. Both holes milk their cocks for all they're worth as they both shudder and groan, releases load after load of sticky, hot cum inside of you.

Their cocks throb and twitch as they begin to soften inside of you. With another shared look between them, they pull out of you at the same time, making you mewl from overstimulation. Their golden eyes lock onto your holes as their cum drips and and dribbles down your thighs and onto the sheets below.

"Goddamn...", Geshu Lin rasps at the sight. Jiyan feels his spent cock twitch again, arousal pooling in his belly once more. You collapse against Jiyan as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close. Geshu Lin sits down beside him and puts his fingers under your chin, making you look to him.

"Give me a kiss", Geshu Lin's voice is softer now, but still holds that commanding edge. You lean towards him, pressing your lips to his gently. He sighs into the kiss, feeling all the tension release from his body. When you pull back, Jiyan redirects your gaze to him, pointing to his own lips with a slight teasing smile, "Me too, love."

You smile a little at both of their antics, but lean forward, kissing him just as softly. Jiyan smiles against your lips before you pull back. Looking between the two of them, your closest friends since childhood, you feel your heart ache with love in your chest.

Leaning forward, you embrace both of them, catching them off guard, "I love you both. I'm glad you're here with me." The sentiment makes them swell with emotions they would rather keep under wraps, but they both love you. They truly do. Always have.

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a/n: whew it got a lil emotional at the end there🥲

[songbirdseung]

you're here, baby / lee heeseung

where you surprise visit your long-distance boyfriend after their tour finally ended genre long distance au, established relationship, fluff

Heeseung settled onto the couch, his phone propped up on the armrest as he waited for your call. It was your usual routine—after his long, exhausting days of practice or after he’d spent hours in the studio, you would sync up over video calls, watching movies together as a way to stay connected despite the distance between you. It had become the highlight of his nights, and while nothing could replace having you right there with him, those virtual movie dates made the separation feel a little less painful.

His phone buzzed, and your face appeared on the screen. He grinned immediately, all the exhaustion he’d been feeling melting away the moment he saw you. You were still as beautiful as ever, and even through the screen, you always had a way of making him feel at ease.

"Hey, babe. What movie are we watching tonight?" he asked, trying to seem casual, though he was always giddy just to see you.

"Actually, before we start..." you said, your voice taking on that playful tone that always made him curious. Heeseung raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“What is it this time?” He laughed softly, already used to your random little requests. You were always full of surprises, sending him gifts or packages to make him smile on the days you couldn’t be there.

"Can you do me a favor?" you asked, your smile widening as you watched his expression shift into slight confusion.

"Another package, huh? You’re spoiling me too much,” Heeseung joked, sitting up a little straighter. "What is it this time? More snacks? A hoodie?"

You giggled, biting your lip to contain the excitement bubbling inside you. "Just... step outside your house for a minute. Trust me, okay?"

"Outside? Babe, it’s late, and I was just getting comfortable," he said, pouting slightly, but he still got up from the couch. He couldn’t say no to you, even if it was something as odd as stepping outside in the middle of the night.

As he slipped on his shoes by the door, he still couldn’t shake the curiosity. “Alright, alright. I’m going, but this better be good.”

Heeseung opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, glancing around in the dim glow of the streetlights. The night air was cool, and the streets were quiet, save for the distant hum of passing cars. He scanned the area, searching for whatever surprise you had in store for him. “Okay, I’m here. Now where’s this package?”

"Are you sure you’re looking in the right place?" your voice teased through the phone, barely holding back your excitement. You knew he’d catch on any second now.

Heeseung laughed, his brow furrowed as he looked around again, but nothing was out of place. “Yeah, I’m looking. Did you hide it or something? Come on, give me a hint.”

Then, you dropped the surprise. "You wanna leave your lover outside?"

Heeseung froze, your words making his heart skip a beat. He turned slowly, his eyes landing on a figure approaching the house from the street. His breath caught in his throat, disbelief clouding his mind as he saw you, standing there in person, walking up the driveway toward him.

"No way," he breathed, the shock rendering him momentarily speechless. His phone nearly slipped from his hands as he fumbled to shove it into his pocket. In an instant, he dashed toward you, closing the distance between you in seconds.

You grinned as you saw him sprinting toward you, your own heart racing as you finally reached him. Before you could say anything, Heeseung enveloped you in his arms, lifting you off the ground in a tight embrace. His laughter filled the air, the joy and disbelief evident in the way he held you close.

“You’re here,” he gasped, his voice filled with pure elation as he pulled back slightly to look at your face, his hands cradling your cheeks like he needed to make sure you were real. "You’re actually here... How? When did you—"

You laughed softly, still catching your breath from the excitement. "Surprise, Hee."

Heeseung let out a breathy laugh, hugging you again, spinning you around slightly as if to convince himself that this moment was real. The feel of your warmth against him, the familiar scent of your perfume—it was all too good to be true.

"I can’t believe you’re here," he murmured, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "I missed you so much."

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him just as tightly. "I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to come see you."

After what felt like forever in his arms, you finally nudged him gently. "Come on, let’s go inside. It’s cold out here."

Heeseung nodded, still holding onto your hand as he led you back inside the house, his heart still racing from the excitement. As you walked in, you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your jacket, making yourself comfortable like you’d done a million times before. It felt like home, being there with him.

But Heeseung stayed by the door, his back leaning against the frame as he watched you move around the house, his eyes filled with wonder. You were really there, in front of him, not just on a screen. It felt surreal.

Noticing him standing there, you turned around and gave him a curious look. "What’s wrong?"

Heeseung didn’t respond right away. Instead, he slowly made his way over to you, his footsteps quiet as he approached. When he reached you, he stopped just a few inches away, his hands gently resting on your arms as he stared at you, his expression soft and filled with love.

“You’re really here,” he whispered, his voice quiet and full of emotion. "You’re actually here, baby."

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "I’m here. It’s real."

Heeseung leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a moment as he took a deep breath. “I can’t believe it,” he said softly. "I missed you so much. Seeing you through a screen wasn’t enough... I needed this. I needed you."

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. "Well, I’m not going anywhere for a while. I’m all yours."

Heeseung let out a quiet laugh, his lips brushing against your forehead as he held you close. "Good. Because I’m never letting you go again."

The weight of the past months, the long nights of missing each other, melted away in that moment. It didn’t matter how far apart you’d been—right now, you were together, and that was all that mattered.

[cattolino]

sweet angel.

pairing: lee felix x f reader. warnings: exhibitionism, skirt kink, fingering (f receiving), thigh grinding, teasing, dirty talks, profanities. genre: established relationship, smut. rating: explicit. word count: 2.7k.

Felix is the pristine epitome of joy. Radiance. A bright spirit.

One time Chan was told to describe Felix in a word on a post-it note for the younger’s birthday party and the dude ended up scribbling ‘the embodiment of warmth of the first light of day when you wake up on a Saturday morning, and the vibrance of the sundown when you walk along the shore until dusk takes over’.

Changbin and Jisung wrote ‘sunshine’.

And Hyunjin calls him ‘angel’ sometimes.

You wouldn’t argue. Because you believe that even the sweetest angel would carry the weight of their own deepest darkest secret.

And it was like a trump card when you accidentally found out the one thing that was able to coax out of another side of your angelic boyfriend you’d never seen before.

Two weeks ago when Felix had let you ride him for the first time, he’d shyly asked you to keep your mini plaid skirt on. The hem of the cotton fabric tickled your thigh every time you tried to sink yourself down onto his length that it had been uncomfortable.

But he’d begged… eyes coated with tears as they stared down at where you rolled your hips, his fingers digging deep into the flesh of your thighs. You’d never heard him growl so deep. And you’d felt his gloved cock inside you twitch uncontrollably.

Oh…

Who would have ever guessed that the sweet angel turned out to be that kinky…

And for some egotistical reason that was your own satisfaction, you wanted to verify your presumption.

“You’re not coming?” Seungmin inquired as you and Jisung strode over from the rented beach house with clean beach towels and a cooler filled with chilled canned drinks in hands.

His brows arched in confusion when he saw you in a white bra top and a pleated flowy mini skirt instead of your swimsuit.

At his side, Felix was peeling off his clothes to initially join the others on the shore. He tossed his shirt and sweats on a beach chair unceremoniously that they ended up falling to the ground.

The light freckles littering across his pale skin and the chiselled abs he always took pride in were exposed to view, whilst his lower half was barely protected by black swim trunks that were providentially too tight around the crotch.

Despite the glory of his frame, you almost laughed when you noticed the burning gaze he sent in your direction.

You perched on one of the beach chairs circling around a picnic table that had warped and bleached in several spots. A canned orange juice securely wrapped around one hand.

Your eyes flitted between Seungmin and the others whose laughter roared as the waves crashed into their bodies. You would’ve been tempted if you were to contemplate longer, but you shrugged, “nope. Not in the mood anymore.”

Seungmin wanted to say something about that but Jisung dashed across the beach still fully clothed, urgently taking part in what seemed to be an attempt at drowning Changbin whose screeches echoing through the air as the rest of the guys were carrying him into the ocean.

Seungmin followed closely behind, leaving you and your boyfriend alone.

You didn’t miss how Felix was practically burning holes into your skirt with a glare so fierce that one would’ve confused it with a look of hatred if they didn’t know better.

“You’re not swimming?” you tilted your head, as if you were genuinely curious.

He tore his gaze away from you, imitating how you shrugged your shoulders just minutes before, “nope. Not in the mood anymore.”

You snorted, earning a chuckle from him.

His fingers carded through his tousled, blonde tresses as he sat down on a chair beside you. He hunched over, grabbing a drink from the cooler on the table. The pad of his thumb twiddled upon the tab of the non-alcoholic canned cocktail before he swigged the refreshing liquid down his throat in a couple gulps.

“You look impressive by the way.” He spoke, twirling the can in his hand as he was blatantly staring you up and down. Gawking was probably more fitting since you knew enough to take notice of a hint of curiosity, adoration and lust all combined in the way his deep brown irises glinted in your direction.

His gaze lingered a little longer at your skirt, and he wasn’t being subtle about it. As though he wanted you to know.

And you surely did know.

Your cheeks bunched up towards the eyes at how wide your smile was at the complement. You leaned over to the armrest of his chair, grinning as you spoke, “you like my new skirt?”

A faint pinkish tint that unfurled across his freckled cheeks spread even wider to his ears. He smiled, “I love your new skirt.”

He tipped up your chin, planting a featherlike kiss on your bottom lip. He glanced down, fingers beginning to fiddle with the soft fabric of your skirt before they trailed down along the exposed skin of your thigh.

“Come sit in my lap.”

As if you couldn’t have seen it coming.

He carelessly put his drink on the sand below his seat as you got up on your feet. The other hand remained settled on your thigh, guiding you to perch down between his legs as he spread them wider.

But you looked down at him with a frown, “not in your lap,” you sighed, putting the word out carefully to emphasize your wish, “on your lap, please?”

Chan was right about the part of Felix being the epitome of ‘...the vibrance of sundown when you walk along the shore until dusk’ because he indeed looked lovely with the radiant glow of the golden sunrays gleaming across his freckled, flushed face. Let alone when his eyes sparkled as he stared up at you like a puppy staring at their favourite treat— as though there wasn’t anything obscene currently going through his filthy little mind.

It was unfair that the universe had granted him such a taintless facade.

His perfectly plump and heart-shaped lips tilted up into a grin of anticipation. His hand gripped your thigh a little tighter, guiding you to plump yourself down on his lap. “Of course. Anything for my baby.”

Anyone expecting this to remain an innocent cuddle session is a hypocrite. Felix never intended to keep it appropriate even when you were both in public, in spite of it being a private beach house, too.

But it was the way his palms clutched tightly at each side of your waist to keep you perfectly still on his lap that you knew he wasn’t at all expecting this— there wasn’t any form-fitting clothing whose current primary role was as a barrier between your bottom and his thighs. His swim trunks were mid thigh-length that he could right away take notice of the absence of underwear beneath your skirt.

His legs tensed. His smile faltered.

Your legs relaxed. Your smile widened.

It wasn’t like you meant to tug yourself away from him anyway, but he had his fingers dug into the flesh of your waist as if to entirely nail your ass into his thighs.

His hand led you to shift backwards, allowing your back to lean flush against his chest and your head to rest on his shoulder all while making your naked ass gently graze against the soft surface of his thigh.

“You cunning little vixen.” His voice went impossibly deeper. Something darker laced in his tone, “you’ve had this all planned out, haven’t you now?”

You giggled. Your palms gripped his arms as you moved your hips painfully slowly in an attempt to grind down on him. “But don’t you like it?”

“You’ve no idea.” His voice was nigh to a growl. You had to do more to pull a deeper, sexier one out of him.

His lips dangerously hovered over the juncture of your neck. One of his hands left your waist, shoving its way underneath the fabric of your skirt and kneading your inner thigh.

“But what’d you do if the boys decided to stay?” His mouth latched onto your neck, the hand under your skirt skimmer higher, careful not to touch where you felt hot (and undoubtedly damp) as you kept on grinding on him, “would you let me watch?”

“Maybe,” you responded through gritted teeth, having to hold back from bucking your hips up to make his fingers touch you. Your dignity wouldn’t let you give in first when the plan was to make him lose his mind for you. Speaking of dignity. “It’s good entertainment.”

A moan slipped past your parted lips when his fingertips suddenly pressed roughly against your clit. You arched your back, riding his thigh more impatient to get more friction. He grunted, “I wouldn’t tolerate that.”

“Oh, I know for certain you wouldn’t ignore me regardless,” you spoke in between ragged breaths as he planted open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck, “not when I wear something you couldn’t resist.”

He huffed, but never said anything about that either. His hand on your waist ushered you to grind faster and his fingers on your clit rubbed circles in a sudden unforgiving pace that your thighs trembled. Fucking finally. “We’ll do this in front of a mirror next time… wanna see you so bad… you’ll look so beautiful grinding on my thighs like this…”

You smiled at his words. This wasn’t the only new cute skirt you’d recently bought for some special occasion. Of course there would be a next time with another brand new cute skirt. There should be a next time.

Nothing in the moment could triumph over what you were feeling. The sun was blossoming bold hues of red and gold across the skies as it was beginning to set below the horizon, representing a majestic reflection along the surface of the blue ocean. Its splendour, and the building pleasure in the pit of your stomach as he stroked his fingers on your clit, you thought of doing something similar next time. Because, fuck, was it nice to be taken care of while you watched the sunset.

He had yet to carry through what his fingers could do but you were already a mess. His thigh was soaked with slick that trickled down out of your entrance as you rode him more eagerly. You needed more to soothe the tingle in your abdomen.

“Fuck, baby, you’re always so good to me.” He grunted, very appreciative of the way you kept on just wetting his thighs.

You smiled dumbly, closing your eyes to fully relish in the pleasure, “I am. I always am.”

He pulled you back closer to his chest as if to completely mould your bodies into one. You squirmed when your naked ass landed on his clothed upper thigh as he was bucking his hips up to meet your pace.

But a whinier moan was coaxed out of your throat when you suddenly felt a protruding bulge dig right between your buttocks, slightly intruding your rim.

You weren’t the only one affected.

Felix sucked the flesh of your neck into his plump lips when his tip nudged against you, his moan muffled against your skin as he became more impatient. The hand on your waist travelled further up to grasp your clothed breast firmly in his palm, before sneakily slipping inside the bra. You gasped, mewled, almost screamed when his thumb and forefinger tugged at your perked, sensitive bud.

Before you could anticipate anything, his middle finger slid past your entrance without a word of waning, pulling a whine out of you so loud that Felix had to briefly look up at the others.

No one seemed to have noticed. But even if they had, he doubted he’d even do anything about it. There was no way he would be willing to stop his finger midway and push you off his lap just because one of them had heard your moan amongst the gentle waves. He could just pretend it was an innocent cuddle session…. Couldn’t he?

That would be fucked up.

Anyway.

He bucked his hips up again to gain more friction for his aching erection. The words coming out of your mouth was but a chain of incoherence. He could only get “please” “more” “Felix” out of it. He was proud.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Sometime amidst thrusting his finger into your entrance, his ring finger came in to assist, stretching your walls wider. You dug your nails into the flesh of his arms at your sides, seeking support as you felt your body slowly melt into the pleasure that was almost too overwhelming to bear.

Your curling toes were sinking deeper into the soft and warm sand, back arched, head thrown back, lips parted. Felix would love to see you through the mirror, what a shame.

His fingers curled inside you, looking for a certain spot that would bring you heaven. You almost jolted, if it wasn’t for his hand on your chest holding you down, when his fingertips ever so slightly prodded at that particular spot inside you. Felix smiled. Grinning, even.

Whines and moans and sighs and almost incomprehensible cries of his name were all combined as he plunged his fingers upwards at a faster pace and kept it directed at that spot.

For a moment there you couldn’t make sense of where you were. Your mind was hazy with utmost bliss, warmth was enveloping the whole of your body like a thick fluffy cloud, and electricity surging through your veins that you couldn’t help but tremble in his hold.

It was when his fingers reached incredibly deeper that the heat in the pit of your stomach suddenly exploded, its blaze proliferating within your body. You cried out his name one last time in a whiny moan as your body was quivering uncontrollably on top of him.

More slick dripping out of your entrance as you tried to grind down on his drenched thigh more. But it wasn’t the only thing that made his swim trunks damp. He, too, was releasing beads of precum as he bit down your shoulder to muffle his moans.

The raging flame in your abdomen slowly dwindled into as small as that of candle light, at the same time as when the golden rays of the spring sun were beginning to slowly dwindle into twilight.

You were sated. And Felix didn’t even have to take his shorts off.

It was completely dark when you let your body rest limp against him. The tide began to rise, and the rhythmic sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore helped you relax. Behind you, Felix was diligently cleaning up his fingers with his tongue whilst occasionally letting out hums of satisfaction.

But it was the sound of Chan’s squeaky giggles, Jisung’s dramatic whines, Minho’s blaring shrieks, and their inaudible chatters that made you jolt up in alarm.

Felix had his palm firmly gripped your waist keeping you still on his lap before you could get up. He pulled one of the beach towels from the table and spread it over your and his lower half.

You’d thought he was being considerate in case you were cold. But you had to grit your teeth to muffle any inappropriate sounds that were about to slip past your lips when he slid the elastic waistband of his swim trunks off his waist, not completely but low enough to release his fully erected length from restraint.

As though to torture you further, he pulled you closer by the waist until his tip nudge your swollen folds.

Inhaling a long sigh to compose yourself, you tried to sit more comfortably so as to appear normal for the others who were approaching. Though you hoped it was dark enough for them to notice nothing more than a mere disgustingly cuddly couple.

You wanted to curse at him. But whose idea was this in the first place anyway?

He kissed your shoulder before latching his mouth onto your neck, precisely at the sweet spot, making the hairs on the back of your neck erect.

“You started it,” he chuckled, half whispering, “you finish it.”

[bunnys-kisses]

hi love, may i have some sourdough bread and coffee with max (in a sort of twisted, claiming my rival as mine way). thank you so much and more power to your bakery 💚

bakery menu

feel free to submit your own order! i am happily working away at the bakery! clockin' in those hours!! this prompt made me shove all other projects to the side. you literally picked at two of my faves, haha. like YEAH!! so i hope you love this, this was a pleasure to write (now back to my other projects)!

sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + coffee (rivals au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, breeding kink, possessive behaviour, pregnancy, driver!reader, filth (!!!), smoking, baby trapping, missionary

you sighed and looked over your shoulder, the cigarette still between your fingers, "are you going to keep staring, verstappen or are you going to come over here?"

he uncrossed his arms and went over. he plucked the cigarette out from your fingers and took a drag, "girls like you shouldn't smoke. not very feminine."

you took the cigarette back and looked at him, "oh maxie, if you wanted a girly girl, you watched the ship sail years ago. i used to punch your bullies."

he sighed. you were right. childhood friends to rivals on the track with a dash of friends with benefits or whatever label of the month you chose to define your relationship.

max knew one thing. he wanted to mark you inside and out. he wanted to make sure that you were his. to call what he felt for you love was to call an inferno a spark. as he watched you smoke, he thought about putting his lips on your neck. he wanted to dig his blunt teeth into your throat and watch it bloom purple.

he also wanted to fuck you over the balcony, letting whoever down below know exactly where you belonged. under him. he hated you ferrari as much as he hated you in alpine only two years earlier. he always thought you belonged with red bull, not as a driver, but as a wag.

lately something else had been curling inside of him like a snake about to strike. the rattle of its tail warning his brain that this was what got him going. you. pregnant. with his kid.

end your name's legacy on the track and replace it with his. make sure that your name doesn't end up on the track for a good while, while verstappen survives, if not thrives for a long time to come. if you can't beat a rival on the track, get 'em pregnant!

you stamped out your cigarette of the cement ledge of the balcony before you dropped the butt to the ground. you looked at max, "you're staring at me like i'm a four course meal. can't find someone to get your dick went tonight?"

he had been lying for some time about getting sex elsewhere. it was impossible to sleep with other women when he was thinking about you. he even tried to find women that looked like you but it never cut it.

he snaked an arm around you middle and press his nose into your hairline, "it's been a while since we.. got together. don't you think?"

you looked at him and smiled a little, "are you asking me for sex, mister verstappen?" you chuckled, "i think that breaks several rules." you made a face.

he looked around briefly before he pulled you in for a firm kiss. when he pulled away and said, "if no one knows, is it really rule breaking?" he knew you could never say no to him, so after qualifier when he found a key card to your hotel room in his driver's room, he knew that had scored.

the sex between you two was passionate. it was never a dull moment. when he let himself into your hotel room like he owned the place, you were naked drying off after a shower.

"you dog." you said as you dropped the towel and headed towards the bedroom portion of the hotel room. max followed behind like a happy little mutt with his cock straining in his jeans.

he began to undress when you got up onto the bed. he watched you sitting at the edge while he took his belt off and jeans. you admired his toned figure. he wasn't ugly.

you had seen every phase of max, you two have known each other for far too long. that added to the rush of it all. it would make sense to anyone on the outside that you two would end up together and have like five kids. but instead the games you played were wicked.

once he was naked, he got on top of you. his impressively sized cock rubbed against your sweet pussy. he could feel the wetness against his achy tip.

"i'm going to breed you." he said softly, his blue eyes bore into yours as he made sure to tighten your legs around him.

you chuckled, "yeah right, verstappen. i think your swimmers died like a million years ago from all the racing." you held onto the pillow under your head. your legs wrapped around him tightly.

he laughed, "fine, fine. i'm joking. i think you're right." he was playing it off cool as if he didn't feel like he was going to jump out his bones at the prospect of getting you stuffed fat with his cum.

you laughed, "you and your dirty talk, verstappen. you always talk about wifing me up and me having your children. like i'm going to retire from racing." you tensed up for a moment when he eventually sank his cock into your soaked pussy.

he fit like a glove, that was how he knew. it was like he molded your pussy for him. no other man could have you and he was going to make sure of that. when he was done with you, you'd be at least five percent dutch.

that'll give you enough to give your hefty sons nice, strong names. legacy names for the track. he rutted against you, heavy, strong strokes. his cock nudged inside of you as he planted his hands on either side of you.

"you look good like this." he said as he pressed himself against you. your soft, pretty tits pressed against his chest as he moved against you.

you were only going to get more beautiful with time. the thought excited him. knowing that he had marked you in such an intimate way, a way that no other driver could. you were his, it was as simple as that!

the idea of you having another rival (or partner) made his skin crawl. he knew you better than you knew yourself. he could predict your movements easily both on and off the track. as he bullied his cock into your sweet pussy, he knew that he was the right fit for you.

he pressed his nose into your neck and continued to thrust into you. your pussy was soft and wet for him. a warmth went through his body as he rocked against you.

"i want to breed you. make you my wife. keep you home with our family. you don't need to be on the track anymore. you've scored more points than any other woman. so, it's time to settle down. we'd make some strong racers." he panted and felt the sweat down his back as he thrust into you.

you held the back of his head and whispered in his ear, "you're a funny guy, verstappen. if you get me pregnant, that kid is getting my last name. and they'll be racing under my country's flag."

he smirked to himself against your neck. you say that now, but a lot can change with time. he dug his fists into the covers and picked up the pace. he loved being so close to you.

your heart close to his. it was almost intimate if it wasn't for the hateful filth that was coming out of your mouths.

"i want you always. i want to ruin you for other men. and i'll make sure that you're not sleeping with other guys." he knew a sure fire way to prevent that, hard to fuck other men when you're full of his child.

"max. you're fucking insane." you panted as you looked at him once more. he knew that you were feeling the height of pleasure, and that honestly made him harder.

that he made you this way.

"i'm fuckin' close."

"good, good. my good wife." he purred, which only made you more turned on. god, what a possessive little freak with the breeding kink!

you clutched onto him tightly and almost bit down on his neck as you came. it washed over you and you tensed up for a moment before you relaxed. then you continued to cling onto him like a lifeline.

he liked the feeling of that and soothed you with gentle words and kissed as he felt close to his own climax.

"max... c'mon. fuck." you moaned as you dug your pretty nails into his back.

he soon after cursed loudly as he slammed his cock into you, making sure you took every last inch. he wanted to make sure that he finished far enough into you that his cum didn't have anywhere else to go but into your womb.

that was his objective. he kissed you once more as he gave a few more thrusts. you moaned into the kiss and laid there under him, breathless.

he slowed down his thrusts to catch his breath. you were still clutching the covers under you. you looked amazing under him, he was right. it was where you belonged.

he placed both hands on your stomach and started to thrust once again. one orgasm wasn't going to cut it for him. if he was going to make you a verstappen, it meant making sure his dna stuck to your sweet pussy.

you'd eventually race on sunday with cum still staining your panties and a pray that no one would notice.

-

it was july now and the heat was getting unbearable. it didn't help that sitting on your hips was a six month pregnant belly. you had spent since may in the nice little sundresses that max had picked out for you.

he was painfully doting, making sure the mother of his child had anything she needed. after all, you retirement was sudden and early. such a strong driving career cut short.

"you look so good." he'd often say and his large hands spanned your swollen middle in the hopes to feel his son shifting around. you knew the asshole got off to this.

you were trying to teach your unborn child as much of your mother tongue as possible, while he'd curl up with our middle at night and speak dutch. when you tried to stop him, he simply pressed into you further.

even parenthood felt like a small rivalry.

max believed that he won the rivalry, he was about to championship that year after blood tests came back that you were pregnant. you could've killed him when you stomped out of the doctor's office and almost strangled him.

you'd hate to admit it, but there was a domesticity that you sort of liked. while you were still trying to find things to do post-driving, it was nice to be in one place at one time. what had felt like your entire life had been on planes going between tracks. the press didn't bother you as much once the news cycle of your pregnancy died down and you could just be you.

while you wanted to kill max still, even as he was snuggled up beside you on the couch, his arm draped over your bump, you honestly couldn't ask for a better baby daddy. you wouldn't let max have his victory in your little rivalry, even as the gold ring you wore gleamed in the afternoon light, you'd never admit to your husband that he had bested you. because the way you looked at it, since you shared the same last name, it was your trophy too. <3

[princessbrunette]

How did midsummer go with pogue!rafe and kook!reader? Did he fight jj because he tried to talk to her? What was her parents reaction? Did she let him put it in her butt?

˖⁺‧₊˚🧁˚₊‧⁺˖

he was a little bashful to be honest. i mean he’s a huge guy — may i reiterate pogue!rafe specifically stands at a whopping 6’5 so there’s no way for him to effectively just blend in to the corner. he attracts eyes anywhere he goes.

he cleans up nice but he’ll roll his eyes if you say anything, turning up in his rented suit to drive you to the country club where midsummer was taking place. he swings the door open for you, and when you hop out you’re instantly on him— fixing his collar and his tie, any excuse to press yourself up on him, hands roaming.

“quit it alright, not even inside yet and you’re touching all on me” he shrugs you off, walking ahead. he’s agitated and a little more touchy than usual but it makes you smile. your rafey was nervous. he sighs as he walks, knowing you’re picking up on his mood. whatever — he’d do it for the promised anal sex.

he loosens up a tiny bit after a drink is placed in his hand. he’s a little surprised, the man in the suit at the door didn’t look at him funny or like he wasn’t supposed to be there. he even called him sir.

you hang off his arm, swanning around chatting and socialising as he stands in disinterest like a stony-faced accessory. you’re grinning ear to ear after a glass and a half of wine because his hand is on your lower back and sometimes, perhaps without even realising he rubs big warm circles on it. you just wanted him all to yourself.

“damn, who let this dude in?” jj’s jokey voice rings out and rafes all tense again, glaring at the fellow pogue dashing about collecting empty glasses on his tray.

“kind of unprofessional to be harassing guests on the job— alright, matter of fact where’s your boss maybe i uh, maybe i should let them know—” rafe is immediately in his face, tongue in cheek, looking down at the blonde like he was ready to throw hands so of course you’re slotting yourself between and urging him away. you couldn’t have that kind of tomfoolery tonight.

the second wave of tension came when your parents had finally stepped away from their social circles for a moment to revel in the shock of you bringing the handyman as your date. perhaps you didn’t really think it through, maybe they’d put two and two together and they’d certainly stop inviting him round to fix things which was annoying, as it was the few times you actually got to see him.

your father asks you to come on a little ‘walk’ with him, in which you reluctantly leave rafe’s side for a moment — just praying he behaves himself and jj stays out of his way. the thought of you returning to scrambling bodies on the floor and smashed plates and glasses had your body tensing.

the two of you stroll through the grounds, admiring all the fairy lights and dancing tipsy country club members paired with small talk before he finally breaches what he really wants to ask — being “why him, sweetheart? why rafe cameron our handyman? there are plenty of nice, respectable young men who come from a more… well, a background that just reflects you, a little more honey. what do you even have in common with this guy?”

“you don’t understand, dad. i like him, he’s different and the guys round here are weird and — and stuck up! you know i don’t like that dad, i told you!” you feel yourself regress, feeling like a scolded child again as you attempt to put your foot down, pushing through with your complaints even when you see your parent shaking his head in disapproval.

“i am just trying to protect you — rafe is a huge guy, to put it gently i don’t want my little girl getting hurt! you know how pogues are they’re… they’re undignified! what if he hurts you, huh? you wouldn’t be able to fight him off!”

“he’s not going to hurt me and i’m not a little girl. i’m an adult, and i can make my own choices.”

you don’t give him a chance to respond, already storming back down the golf hill the two of you stood on and back towards rafe — looking a little out of place yet somewhat slightly relaxed. his brows jump into a frown, blinking in confusion when he see’s your state — the most wound up he’s ever seen you.

“hey— wh— what happened out there?” he emphasises, and when you don’t respond, just grabbing his arm and dragging him to the bar his mouth turns down, shaking his head with a little shrug at being ignored. “not gonna tell me? alright.” he brushes off, irritated by your lack of communication.

he watches you order another glass of wine, before downing it — the pogue grimacing a little as he watches it trickle down the side of your mouth.

“alright— okay, jesus kid.” he gently bats the glass away and wipes your chin with the back of his wrist, still shaking his head. “can you talk to me?”

“i don’t wanna be with a kook boy. they’re all evil and stuck up and i just don’t like them. i’m a grown up and — and i can make my own decisions and my dad doesn’t have that kind of power over me okay only — only you— you can tell me—” you’re rambling, a little drunk and incoherent as rafe squints at you, bent a little to be able to see you better.

“breathe, alright… m’taking you home. this shit’s not good for you.” the cameron boy wraps an arm around your waist, all but manhandling you in a public- appropriate way toward the exit and piling you into the passenger seat of his car.

the car ride home is quiet aside from a few little sniffles from you, and he doesn’t really know what to say — so he doesn’t say anything. he had a funny way of showing he cares, and is more of an acts of service kinda guy anyway.

you’re still all loose and tipsy when he gets you back to your empty home, still marvelled by how fancy and large it is in comparison to his own. one moment he’s holding a glass of water to your mouth saying “drink.”, wiping you up when it spills down you once more — and then next minute he’s sheepdogging you into your bedroom, glancing around. “now get your little pyjamas or whatever. you’re goin’ t’bed to sleep this off. you’ll be fine.” he drawls, looking round to help you.

upon looking back at you, you’ve already managed to zip off your dress — your mood suddenly a lot more lifted as you bite back your drunken giggles.

“but rafey, i haven’t delivered my promise?” you’re all fluttery lashes and pouts as you touch his chest, the man before you sighing like it was the first time he’d breathed all day. “wan’ed you to put it in my ass all night.” you groan, all high pitched and needy — and fuck does he wanna give in. fuck does he deserve it — should pin you down and take what he wants right now, making you squeal and cry into your sheets, begging for some kind of stimulation in your cunt only to be rewarded with his big hot load in your ass before he tails out of that place before your parents return.

but it wasn’t right. since when did he care about doing what was right?

“nah kid, we’ll revisit that soon alright you’re — you are not in the right state… okay— so just… get into bed. come on.” his voice is a little softer in defeat at his own overwhelming affections and he guides you to the bed, shucking off his blazer and throwing it to the side as he pulls the blankets over you.

“can you stay?” you pout, sleepy as soon as your head hits the pillow.

“…no.” he scratches his cheek, the other large hand resting on your back and rocking you gently like a baby, not sure of how this all works.

you didn’t expect him to say yes, but it still disappoints you. however once your eyes are closed, they don’t open again — and soon you’re waking up in the morning to a hangover and no rafe.

˖⁺‧₊˚🧁˚₊‧⁺˖

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 2•\

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

You find out the walls are thin in your new apartment.

Roommate!ghoap/fem!reader

*

It’s the hottest day of the month when you move in. If you use that as an excuse to wear your shortest pair of shorts, that’s all it is—an excuse, flimsy as the floaty, sleeveless, polyester top that skims your navel. Even dressed light, the sweat drips down the small of your back and slicks your palms as you work on moving boxes into the elevator and up to the top floor. Every step inside is a blessing, the air conditioning bursting over you, sweet icy bliss.

Johnny opens the door. He’s wearing a tee shirt stretched thin across his chest and a pair of loose cotton pants. He leans against the doorway, reminiscent to how he had the day he showed you the apartment. You had thought he was showing off then, but now you think that maybe it eases the weight off his leg.

“Well, what a bonnie sight you are. Here, let me.” He tries to take the box from you.

“No, I’ve got it—“

“I insist—“

“Really—“

“Lass, I will hit you with my cane—“

You gape at the threat. The box comes loose from your hands and he tucks it easily under one arm, giving you a smug raise of his brows. “I’m disabled, but I’ll have to be dead before I let a pretty girl carry her own furniture.”

“Consider yourself iced,” Simon says, appearing as if from thin air. His arms are bared by his tank top revealing one impressive sleeve of tattoos—as if he wasn’t painfully attractive enough to begin with. Down below his chin is a black surgical mask, ready to be tugged over his mouth and nose out in public. “No moving furniture, Soap.”

“You’re worse than those nurses at the clinic,” Johnny chides, picking up the freshest step of what must be a long, frustrating dance between them both. “I know my own limits better than anyone, don’t I?”

“Wrong,” Simon chuckles darkly. He takes a step closer to Johnny and puts a hand on the nape of his neck, calloused thumb moving along the smooth muscle of his trapezius. He stage whispers: “I know you better than you know yourself, Johnny-boy.”

He takes the box from Johnny’s lax hands. Both of you stare after his figure as Simon turns to walk the box to what will be your bedroom from now on. Judging by the heavy, heated look in Johnny’s eye, you aren’t the only one affected by Simon’s display.

“Did he…call you Soap?”

#

“It was his callsign in the military,” Simon explains, patiently waiting for you to find the perfect grip on a box of your toiletries. He has three boxes—of your book collection no less—stacked in his arms with all the ease of Jenga pieces. But you know these won’t come tumbling down. Heaving the box into your arms, you shift it to your hip and wipe the hair from your forehead.

“What’s a callsign?”

“A simple identifier that can be used over radio or transmitter. Safer sometimes than using names.”

“What was your callsign?”

“Ghost.”

“Ghost.” You roll the name around on your tongue as you both walk into the building, the doorman politely holding the door open for you both. You glance at Simon out of the corner of your eye, the mask drawn up to hide his identity. “You know—yours makes a little sense. But Soap?”

The corner of Simon’s eyes crinkle. “You’ll have to ask him about it. He loves to talk about himself.”

With Simon’s help, you are able to empty the moving truck by early evening, just in time to enjoy the coldest shower of your life (the first of many in your new apartment, you’re sure). The water pressure is excellent, beating down on your flushed skin until your teeth chatter and you turn the temperature to something less punishing.

By the time you walk into the living room, convinced you’ll have to make a run for groceries of your own (or just Door Dash something—but fuck if that wasn’t an allowance in your joyless budget), the smell of pizza reaches your nose.

Johnny and Simon are on the loveseat, an open pie on the coffee table in front of them. There are a few toppings you’d have to pick off, but nothing that wasn’t salvageable. Simon is freshly showered as well, hair a shade darker blond than usual, the ends curling just a bit.

“First dinner in the new place, on us,” Johnny explains, passing you a slice. He scoots over—clearly expecting you to take the narrow spot between him and Simon, though that’s the last place you would have thought to seat yourself.

“Thank you,” you say, touched. Simon slips off of the couch, giving you plenty of room. Your heart plummets for a moment—except he’s only gone to grab you a beer. But even after cracking it open with his bare hands for you, he sits in the armchair closest to Johnny and leaves the couch for you both. Sheepish, you say: “Sorry I stole your spot.”

“You didn’t,” he says quietly, sipping from his own bottle. Then he hesitates and reaches out, stretching one long arm to clink bottles with you and Johnny. He mutters, not unkindly: “Cheers.”

#

That night, you can’t sleep. The first night in a new place is always strange. You had hoped that the physical exertion of the day would tire you out, but your brain felt wired, eyes floating around the room to take in the new space and commit it to memory. You’re still awake when you hear the quiet hum of the television shut off in the living room. You hear quiet voices—a door open and shut. A shower runs for a while.

If today was any indication, you truly had high hopes that you would get along well with Simon and Johnny. Perhaps you could even grow to be friends and not just roommates. And maybe eventually you wouldn’t be thirsting after them like a dog—

—a sound on the other side of the wall, the one separating your bedroom from theirs. Your breath catches. Surely you had misheard. But then it comes again: a throaty, masculine groan. Immediately you flush hot all over, rolling onto your belly and burying your face in your pillow. Surely they aren’t—?

There’s a rumble of voices, just loud enough for you to make out Johnny’s name, and it is answered by a filthy, breathy moan. They are. Holy shit. Your hot roommates are having sex in the next room.

Your cunt aches, glaringly empty. You’re not going to do anything about it. That would be insane, wouldn’t it? To touch yourself while your neighbors fucked on the other side of the wall? But God, your body had no sense of morals, not even a daydream of right or wrong. Your nipples had hardened into aching points begging for the dextrous touch of a lover, your entire sex throbbing and flushed. Perhaps you should grab your earbuds and give them some privacy, but instead you find yourself holding your breath, desperate for the next noise.

What exactly are they doing, you wonder? You find it hard to even imagine the two of them kissing, though Simon had leaned in and placed a peck on Johnny’s lips before going downstairs to help you with your furniture. You’d never had a very good imagination. But judging by the sound of skin on skin from the next room, they are doing far more than kissing, and the thought has you clenching your thighs together.

You have no way of knowing how long it lasts. It’s like a fever dream, your head hot and floaty whenever one of Johnny’s moans is answered by Simon’s deep, throaty chuckles. There comes a strangled shout, hastily bitten off (or covered, perhaps by a hand or smothered by a lover’s mouth) and you have to bury your face in your pillow all over again in case any stray, desperate noises come floating out of you, too.

Now you’re free, one hand cupping your own breast through the flimsy tank top you sleep in and the other slipping into your panties. The angle is all wrong thanks to you being on your belly, but there’s no penetration needed tonight, not when a few wet swipes over your aching clit has you climbing that blissful peak and shattering into pieces, all your breathy sounds lost to your pillow.

Rolling onto your back, you suck in air, panting into the darkness. You whisper: “Fuck.”

You’re so screwed, though not nearly screwed as you would like to be.

[dotster001]

When You Escape Him, Staff

Summary: Yandere staff x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you.

CW: yandere content, Stockholm syndrome, blackmailing, potentially ooc?, the void, implied previous injury,

A/N: It's finally finished! There are some spin off stories coming but they will not be weekly updates. I'll write them when I write them. Also, I know I said that I'd put out a poll for what series would get weekly updates, but I've gotten so many questions about Elder God, that I'm gonna do that one. Probably won't be Sunday's, but whenever I release the next part will start the cycle.

Heartslaybul Savannaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Ignihyde Diasomnia Non NRC

Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.

"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."

You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.

Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.

And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.

In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.

To this day, you had no idea how you had escaped. But you had, and you'd been able to smuggle yourselves off the island and far away.

Your son had started to display signs of magical ability when he was three. You hoped it stayed a miniscule amount, considering you'd heard some people were just magic sensitive.

By the time he was eight, you realized you were not going to be lucky. By the time he turned twelve, you were burning the flyers that the dark mirror magically sent out. By sixteen, you and your son were full on panicking about the scouts that might come by to observe him, and the acceptance letter that would show up at the house.

It was a completely normal day. You'd gone to pick up your son from school, when his teacher excitedly came out to meet you.

“I have amazing news! A representative from NRC came today to test a few of our students!”

You froze.

“S/N was one of the one's they called, and he's been being tested for hours now! He's a shoe in! You must be so proud!”

You nodded rigidly, a stiff smile on your face.

She led you inside, and to one of the teacher conference rooms. Up to this point, you knew there was a chance it wasn't him. If it was anyone else, you could bargain with them.

The door opened, and your hopes were dashed.

“Ah! Welcome, welcome! I was just telling our precious chick that he has a place waiting for him among the students of our esteemed academy! He's almost as powerful as his papa! I couldn't be prouder!” At the last statement, Crowley brushed away an invisible tear.

“And I told him that I have no interest,” your son muttered angrily as he stared down at the table.

Crowley didn't react to what sounded like not the first refusal your son had given, and patted his lap excitedly.

As though everything was normal and you'd just go back to the nest.

“S/N,” you said coldly, calling him to your side. It wasn't like you were alone. If you and your son ran, shouting along the way, surely one of the teachers would hear you and get help. Your son stood to walk over to you.

It happened in seconds. His golden eyes flashed in mild irritation, and by the time you reacted he had already entered your space, and hoisted you over his shoulders.

“I consider myself a very magnanimous person, but you are pressing my patience.”

You shouted obscenities at him, trying to fight your way out of his grip, but to no avail.

“Stop squirming, or I will have to clip your wings-”

“Leave them alone!” Your son shot a fire spell at Crowley. A field around him blocked it, but he gazed at his son in parental pride.

“Just like his papa!”

“YOU'RE NOT MY PAPA!” He screamed, a blaze of fire exploding from around him.

It wasn't his fault he'd lost control. But you had a brief moment where you realized that without the field around Crowley, that would have killed you. As it was, the room was ablaze, and quickly growing out of control, causing your son to forget his anger, and panic.

Crowley sighed, and set you down. He summoned his staff, and quickly doused the fire. Then he turned to your son.

“I am a very generous man. I can pay for the damages done to the school. Which, judging by what I am seeing, is extensive. However, you both must come back to the nest.”

Your son just stared at him.

“If I don't pay for it, how do you think either of you is going to be able to pay this off? Especially not when word gets out that you attacked the Headmage of NRC. You will spend the rest of your life in debt that will continue to grow.”

“You're bluffing,” your son spat.

He definitely wasn't bluffing. You knew exactly what lengths he was willing to go to. You couldn't look him in the eye, opting to stare at the floor as you whispered,

“We'll come with you.”

“No!”

“We don't have a choice. Trust me, I know.”

“Aw, don't talk like that, treasure,” he said happily, scooping you back up and nuzzling his cheek against yours.

Your son looked at you with heart broken eyes. But there was nothing you could do. You'd always known what it looked like when he'd beaten you.

He'd let you leave…

You never wrapped your head around it.

He'd let you leave. Watched you walk out the door with your son. Hadn't said a word.

And he hadn't come after you. 

It had been four years since then. You'd been doing as well as a single parent could do.

Any accounts you had created and hid from him, your government paperwork, your social media accounts; all of it was gone. The second you stepped foot out of his mansion, he'd canceled and frozen anything and everything you had in your name. You had started from square one.

But you were alive. And so was your son. You had found a job, and had built a small life for the both of you.

But this most recent set of bills was going to upset the delicate balance.

You stared down at the statements, and sighed. You wanted to cry. You'd fought so hard. But it all amounted to nothing. The weight of the world was crushing you, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from letting it show to your son.

An unknown number appeared on your phone. You picked up. Probably a debt collector. Maybe you could come up with an excuse.

“Are you done playing pretend? You're not cut out to be a stray.”

You stiffened.

“How did you get this number?”

“You're not in a position to ask me questions. How does it feel to be all alone? To bite your master, then get beaten by a wild pack of wolves?”

You stared back down at the bills, biting your lip.

“Nothing to say?” You could hear the amusement in his tone. It disgusted you, but he was right. You weren't in a position to fight him.

“What do you want?” You spat.

“I want you to admit you need me. That you can't support yourself and the pup, and that I'm the only one who is able to properly take care of you.”

“What the fuck-”

“I want you to tell me that you understand that a dog is useless without a master to care for it.”

“Gah! I'm not saying anything like that!”

“Alright,” he spat, hanging up before you could say anything else.

You angrily slammed your phone against the table. 

“What's going on?” You heard your son's sleepy voice say. You turned over your shoulder, and saw him rubbing his eyes, staring at you sleepily. He was so small. So innocent. He deserved so much more.

You opened your arms, and he ran into them, snuggling against you.

“Baby, how would you feel if Daddy brought us home?”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah. We got separated, but I think he found us. Which means-”

“Daddy could take us home?”

You felt bile rise in your throat. Home. Home was stolen from you forever when a certain alchemy professor had decided you were his. But maybe home would be different for your boy. And you couldn't take that from him.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

You redialled the unknown number, half expecting him not to pick up. But he did, immediately.

You put it on speaker, and after a moment of silence, you heard, “Well?”

Your son was faster than you.

“Daddy, please come get us!”

Crewel’s breath hitched, and his voice was infinitely more tender when he spoke again.

“Of course, puppy. Daddy's coming to get you.”

Your son looked up at you with excited, warm eyes. Maybe this was for the best. It would be selfish of you to keep putting him through this. He had a father who would give him the stars in the sky if he so much as looked at them a certain way. Meanwhile, you could barely take care of yourself.

“We'll be waiting,” you said quietly.

You half expected him to go back to sounding angry and disappointed. Instead, he released a soft sigh, and said in a voice so kind that it brought tears to your eyes, “I've missed you, love.”

Sam's "friends" used to frighten you. They were the one's in charge of keeping you quiet in the back room while he worked. 

Over time, you'd grown to tolerate them. They were terrifying. But they left you alone for the most part.

The day Sam had placed your son in your arms was the first time they'd spoken to you. You'd been alone, staring at your own hollow eyes in the mirror, reflecting on how you had to get this child away from him, when a whispery voice had hissed in your ear.

“We can free you.”

You'd refused to trade your soul, but you'd given up ten years of your life span. Over the years, they would update you if you needed to move. They would tell you what he was up to. They would hide you from new “friends” who would try to find you. 

It was your son's 16th birthday. And something was wrong.

The "friend" who had offered you the deal in the first place was missing. They were always around, except for when Sam needed them. It was odd for them not to be there. 

And you, yourself, felt weird. You'd woken up to a tingle in the tips of your fingers, and a disco party in your chest.  You gotten up to wake up your son, then prepared him a birthday pancake. You placed a candle into it, and were about to light it, when it lit itself.

“Hello, friend,” you muttered. “Is something wrong? It's not like you to be gone for so long.”

You felt phantom fingers detangling a knot in your hair, and a voice hissed in your ear, “We serve more than just you.”

They sounded…oddly defensive. But you couldn't think about that now, because your son had just stumbled tiredly into the room.

“Aw, you shouldn't have,” he grinned when he saw the pancake. He leaned in and blew out the candle, before sitting down and digging in. You sat down in the seat next to him, digging into your own breakfast, when your “friend” released a hiss.

Suddenly, in the corner, a dark void opened up, and out stepped,

“Sam,” you whispered in terror, as you stood from your spot. You turned to your “friend” who was moving to join him.

“Hello, little imp. Long time no see,” he grinned at you, his eyes glowing bright lime as the room filled with fog from the void.

“Wait, I had a deal!” You shouted.

“We received a better offer,” your “friend”’s voice hissed with merciless glee. “Don't worry, we returned your ten years to you.”

“Damn, I wanted to see you for so long. But now that I see your face, I'm absolutely disgusted,” Sam spat bitterly.

The smoke wrapped around you like unbreakable ropes. You struggled against them, but they only grew tighter, quickly feeling suffocating.

He walked up to you, gripping your chin in his hand.

“I paid quite the price for you. And now I just want you to suffer like I did.”

“Wait-” your son cut in, seemingly finally able to break out of his shock.

This brought Sam's attention to him, his eyes filling with love and adoration.

“And there's my boy! Can you believe I spent years thinking a fate worse than death had befallen you?” Sam said sweetly.

“You're scaring me. Cut out whatever it is you're doing, and leave us alone!”

Sam's eyes flashed back to yours, a staff suddenly appearing in his hand.

“No. I made a deal after all.”

He stalked towards you, and you watched in horror as various shadow creatures restrained your son.

“I had to choose. You or my son.” The staff came up under your chin, pressing uncomfortably into your throat. “I used to worship you. And you gave me nothing,” he hissed. Then he smiled. “It wasn't that hard of a decision to make, really.”

His lips were pressed against yours, cutting off your air completely.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he breathed against you. He then shoved you, and you fell backwards into darkness, his hate filled glowing gaze the last thing you saw.

“Please, just, don't tell anyone about us. He's not interested in becoming a mage.”

It felt like you were pleading for your life. Because you were. Crowley had arrived at your son's school to scout students for the college. The second your son had gotten word, he'd called you, and you'd rushed to the school, prepared with a lie about a doctor's appointment you'd both forgotten. Crowley moved far too fast though, and had already found your son.

“Y/N. My employees' well being is of great importance to me!” 

“I'm sure he's fine,” your son groaned in the seat next to you. “I really don't want to be a mage. So scout someone else, and leave us alone.”

Your boy was a good one. But his downfall was his strong sense of justice. You had never intended to tell him the lengths Ashton had gone to keep you, but he'd been relentless. You hadn't told him everything, but the both of you were pretty certain he might do something bad if he ever met the man.

Crowley looked at you both in disappointment. You remembered that look. It brought you back to your Ramshackle days when you were asking him to install heat, and he'd made you feel like you were asking for a million dollars. But you weren't his student anymore. You weren't his slave. He had no control over you.

“It would be a great shame for someone of your abilities to waste them. And besides,” Crowley’s disappointed frown turned into a frightening grin. “Around this time of year, a certain physical education professor gets rather whiney, and makes it everyone's problem. Now, whose fault is that?” 

“He's a big kid. If he can't move on, that's his own fault. And if it's a problem, you can fire him,” you said bluntly, not going to feel guilted for what you'd done.

Crowley leveled a glare at you.

“I gave you a home. I gave you money. I gave you an expensive education, for free. I allowed you to keep your cat, and eventually your son. You owe me.” He snapped his fingers, and the mirror in the corner swirled to life. Suddenly, he was behind the both of you, yanking you from your seats, and shoving you through the mirror.

You both landed in a patch of grass, right behind a burly man in a memorable red sweatshirt. He hadn't noticed you yet. You pressed your finger to your lips, and pointed to the nearby woods. Your son nodded, and you both turned slowly.

Only to bump straight into Crowley.

“For Seven's sake, Ashton! Get it together!” Crowley snapped, causing the man of the hour to finally look over his shoulder.

His eyes widened, and he ran straight for you, wrapping you in a hug so tight that you thought your ribs might break. Again.

“Ashton,” you wheezed, feeling the familiar feeling of panic you always felt when he was involved. 

“You're so scrawny,” he muttered in your ear. You were always “too scrawny” to him. But of course it would be the first thing he'd say to you after so long of being apart. 

“I can't believe you survived out there,” he boomed loudly, holding you by the shoulders at arms length, looking you up and down with a jovial smile.

“Put them down!” Your son snapped, shaking you out of your fear momentarily. You looked over your shoulder to see him tied up in Crowley's “whips of love”.

Ashton’s eyes brightened even further.

“Ha ha! You look just like your old man! A few hundred pushups, and you'll be just as strong as I am!”

“Fuck you!” 

Ashton's eyes darkened, and turned back to you, reigniting your terror tenfold. His grip on your shoulders tightened painfully.

“What have you been saying about me, Y/N?”

You shivered in terror. You knew that look.

“I didn't-”

“You don't deserve our love, you monster!”

Ashton tossed you to the side like you were nothing. You winced. He never seemed fully aware of what his strength was capable of. He marched up to your son, snatching him from Crowley.

“Looks like we need to do some training, to whip ya into shape.”

He snatched you under his other arm, storming off in the direction of the school.

“Vargas! Your students!” Crowley called after him, but he was completely ignored.

You were thoroughly soaked from the rain outside. You stood before him, staring at the ground in shame as he silently sipped tea, and studied you. Eventually, he sighed, standing up and placing the baby in the bassinet in the corner of his spacious bedroom. He returned to his seat, and sighed again.

“To say I am disappointed would be an understatement,” Mozus said sternly. 

The door had been unlocked. In a moment of stupidity, you'd taken the chance to grab the baby and run. You hadn't realized that Trein had put up countless charms around the estate, including one that allowed the topiary knights to drag you back to him. If that wasn't enough, it was pouring. A mud puddle had been your undoing.

You dripped onto the floor, awaiting the speech and upcoming punishment.

“Look at me when I talk to you,” he snapped, and you quickly looked up. His face and demeanor were calm, but his eyes glinted in anger.

“I trained you to be a better spouse than this. What in the Seven's names were you thinking?”

He paused, seeming to wait and see what brilliant answer you would provide.

“I don't know,” you whispered.

“You don't know. Well, do you have any hints?”

You honestly didn't. Things had been peaceful recently. Up until the moment you ran out the door, you had convinced yourself you were finally able to be happy here. But seeing that unlocked door had stirred something in you. A final rebellion. A chance for your son, who shouldn't have to grow up under Trein's tyranny.

Now that you were under his scrutiny, however, all of that seemed to fade away. Instead, you were filled with embarrassment and guilt.

“I'm sorry,” you whimpered.

His glare softened into pure disappointment. Which, somehow, made you feel worse.

“Sorry won't clean the mud off my carpet,” he said tiredly. He looked you up and down, before pouring himself another cup of tea. 

“I know.”

“You know I can't leave this unpunished?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you, unreadable, before he nodded to the door.

“Go clean yourself up, then wait for me in your room while I decide on your punishment.”

You nodded, trudging towards the door. Then the baby started to softly cry. Instinctively, you turned the child. Trein's expression turned soft, more tender. 

“Go ahead,” he said, his voice full of love.

You picked up the baby, and made your way to your room.

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Clematis - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Clematis (Clematis) - Meaning: Ingenuity, cleverness

Summary: Anthony's lover comes up with a way to see him after the ball.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 1504

Warnings: SMUT, probably poorly written cunnilingus (F receiving), reader has female anatomy, Regency era gender politics, Anthony loves giving head

Day 15 and not sure how I feel about this one. Getting it in under the wire, it's almost midnight where I'm at. I just want a man to come in through my window and eat my 😼 okay???

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated! ❤️

If this was how Anthony Bridgerton kissed, you couldn’t imagine how else he could make you feel. His lips were firm against yours, but gentle, coaxing, his large hands tracing down your neck and along the line of your decollete which made your breath hitch. 

Part of the intoxication was the danger of the situation — you were the daughter of an Earl, a respectable lady of the Ton, and if you were discovered with Anthony Bridgerton’s hands and lips all over you, you would be ruined. 

You broke the kiss, needing an influx of air or you would surely faint. Anthony rested his forehead against yours. 

“I need you,” you breathed out, “Anthony, I need you.” 

He ran a delicate finger down your chest, “Not here, dearest.” 

“Then where? When?” You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you as you pressed your pliant body against his firm one. 

He sighed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “If only I could whisk you away from here without drawing suspicion.” 

An idea came to mind — it was risky, but if he agreed you could continue feeling like you were on fire, and oh, how you wanted to burn. 

“Come to my home, tonight,” you whispered, gasping a little as his lips pressed against your neck, licking over your jeweled necklace. “There’s a trellis just under my window, you can climb right up.” 

“You wish for me to defile you in your own bedroom?” Anthony growled against your neck, “Naughty girl.” 

He agreed to the plan nonetheless, and you straightened yourself before heading back to your parents, claiming a headache and asking for the carriage. 

“But dear, you haven’t danced with Lord Hollingsworth yet!” your Mama declared, having selected the oh-so-boring yet oh-so-available man as your best hope for marriage at the beginning of the season. 

“Now, now Cecelia,” your Papa chimed in, “if the girl is unwell we shan’t force her to dance. I’ll call the carriage, dears, you two gather your things and say your goodbyes.” He nodded at you and ducked away, eager to get home as usual. 

From across the ballroom, you caught Anthony’s eye and nodded slightly. He winked, sending the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. He was to give you ninety minutes to make sure your parents were asleep, then scale your trellis like a hero in a romantic novel. 

Immediately upon your return home, you excused yourself upstairs. Your maid helped you undress, but you dismissed her quickly, claiming you could handle taking the pins out of your hair on your own. Over the next hour, you listened as your father retired to his study and your mother to her bedroom. 

Once you were sure your parents were in for the night, you placed a candle in your window — his signal that the coast was clear. Unable to remain still, you started pacing your room. Would he show up or leave you twisting in the wind like this? 

Only a few minutes of pacing later a knock came from your window. You dashed over, unlatching it and moving the candle for Anthony to pull himself up. He did so athletically, like letting a tiger into your bedroom. When he was inside, you closed the window and he was on you in a heartbeat, hot kisses along the back of your neck while his hands slid around your waist. 

Your hand came up to grip the back of his head, your fingers lacing through his silken hair. You pressed back against him, turning your head to meet his lips with your own. He tasted like whiskey and sin. He spun you around in his grasp and tugged you close to him by your hips. 

You gasped as you felt his cock pressing into your lower tummy — he was large. For a moment you hesitated, wondering how something so large would fit inside you, but Anthony’s insistent grip on your hips turned into him grabbing handfuls of your nightgown and pulling the cool silk up, up, up. 

“You came,” you gasped breathlessly.

“You didn’t think I would? Tsk, tsk,” he joked, clicking his tongue at you. “My dear, now that I’ve had a taste, I cannot get enough.” 

He emphasized his point by kissing your lips once again, licking his tongue into your mouth. You responded with a soft moan, which only seemed to spur him on. 

Before you knew what was happening, Anthony had tossed you back onto your bed and was  crawling over you, bringing the hem of your nightgown with him. Your breath hitched as you felt his warm, large fingers tracing trails of fire up your legs, teasing your wetness through your undergarments. 

“May I taste you,” he asked, and you moaned your response which prompted him to stop his fingers only an inch from where you needed him most. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and whined. He rose to meet your lips with his. “I need you to remain quiet, otherwise I will stop. And we don’t want that, sweet one, do we?” 

Anything. Anything he wanted as long as he kept touching you. When he saw you nod, he hooked a finger beneath your gusset and ripped it, baring your wetness to him. With eyes dark as obsidian in the light of the single candle burning, he gazed up at you with such heat as you had never known. 

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, then licked a long stripe into you, sending a lightning bolt up your spine. His lips curled around your clit and you shuddered. A moan threatened to slip past your lips but you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop it. The noise was caught in your throat, fluttering like a canary in a cage. 

Anthony hummed a, “good girl,” against you, making you clench around nothing. 

You moved your hands, making an effort to keep your tone low, “More, please!”

You felt him smirk against you before he redoubled his efforts, this time breaching your entrance with a thick finger. Moaning at the intrusion, Anthony took this as an invitation to add another finger, stretching you deliciously. 

You were close, so close, his fingers pumping and hitting a spot within you that you couldn’t reach, his tongue flicking against your clit. Each movement made the knot in your lower tummy tighten, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“Anthony, please,” you whined, unable to control your volume.

He slowed his fingers and removed his mouth from you. “Quiet,” he hissed, “Or do you wish for your parents to find me here?” 

Unconsciously, you clenched around his fingers. The danger of being caught added something you couldn’t name to the situation. Anthony smiled. “Mmm, does my sweet want to get caught?” He teased, and you clenched again, “I think she does. Such a wanton little strumpet, tempting me into a dark corner to kiss me, then inviting me to her bedchambers in the middle of the night, and squeezing my fingers at the thought of someone coming in…”

His words, said in his tantalizing baritone, were pushing you closer and closer to the edge. If only he would put his mouth to better use and—

As if reading your mind, his lips landed back on your clit and his fingers picked up their pace once more, again finding the spot within you that made you see stars with every pass. 

You clamped your hands over your mouth again and moaned his name, which only spurred him on. He drove into you, his tongue and lips reciting an ode against you, dedicating it to you and your pleasure. Having the entire focus of this season’s most eligible bachelor was intoxicating to say the least — and inevitably what pushed you straight into your climax. 

You writhed against him, held in place by his strong forearm as he worked you through your orgasm, the aftershocks lasting much longer than they normally did. Anthony remained between your legs and cleaned up every drop of your release before withdrawing. 

The clock in the hall chimed thrice. Anthony joined you when you reached for him, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You let your hand drift to the front of his trousers, palming his length until he guided your wrist away. 

“As much as I wish for it, I have an early appointment and must be on my way.” 

You pouted up at him, but he placed a sweet kiss to your forehead before slipping off the end of your bed with a promise to see you again soon. 

You watched as he made his way back down the trellis. When he got to the bottom, he blew you a kiss before disappearing into the dark Mayfair night.

The early appointment Anthony had, you would find out later, was to meet with your father. He asked for your hand that afternoon. And, knowing what awaited you in your marital bed, you happily said yes.

[d3add0vedonoteat]

Chicken Soup for Carmy

⚠️ Content Warning ⚠️ harsh language, sexism and violence in one scene (not from Carmy). Hurt/comfort, fluff.

A/N: I’m literally feral for this man. I’m sick atm and I started thinking about taking care of Carmy while I was making chicken soup. Bonus combo with Carmy protecting you from an asshole customer. Not proofread bc my brain is rotting. Plz be nice this is my first time posting a fic 🥺

-

It was cold. You braced yourself against the harsh Chicago wind as you made your way briskly down the street. After a late night phone call from your brother sent you into a spiral, you couldn’t sleep. You’d been tossing and turning all night until finally, at 4am, you flung off the covers and got dressed. It wasn’t a surprise that you’d come here. This place consumed all your mind and your heart since you started working here a few months ago. You used your key to unlock the door in the alley, sighing with relief as the warmth of The Beef welcomed you inside. It was quiet, the lights were down, it was peaceful. You slipped off your sneakers trading in your kitchen clogs and tucked your things safely away in your locker. You tied your handkerchief on your head as you moved. It was so comforting, the routine of The Beef’s prep work. You felt so at home, moving from the prep area to the walk in, diligently beginning the tasks that didn’t need to be started for a few more hours. He would understand. You thought to yourself as you began to prepare fresh stock for the day. He was a man after your own heart, your boss, Carmen Berzatto.

Avoidant, chaotically emotional, one wrong thing away from a complete meltdown, that you both disguised as workaholic tendencies. As you finely chopped onions, your mind quieted. Everything was shut out except for the task at hand. Your brother’s angry voice on the phone accusing you: “you never come home! You don’t even care about us! You can’t take come take care of your own mother?!” was drowned out by the rhythmic pound of your knife on the cutting board. You were in the zone.

Until a voice startled you out of your bubble. “Chef?” You jolted, looking up at the man before you. Carmy’s hair was messier than usual, the bags under his eyes were deeper and more purple. His lips were parted with each soft breath he took. He gave you a quizzical look. “What are you doing here?”

“I uh-” your mouth felt dry and you tripped over your words, as usual when he set those intense blue eyes on you. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Carmy nodded, not pushing you any further. All he said before moving toward the office was a simple: “Heard, Chef.”

You watched him go, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the labor of his normally spry step. There was no mistaking it, Carmen was sick. You stared at the office door for a long moment before you made up your mind.

You set a heavy bottomed pot on the stove with some olive oil. Your hands moved with well practiced efficiency as you chopped garlic and onions, celery and carrots. The garlic and onions went in first. Then the celery. A sprig of thyme and a dash of white wine. While that simmered you quickly seared some chicken breast and chopped it into perfectly bite sized pieces. All into the pot with chicken stock and water, tightly covered to develop the flavors. Next came the pasta. You cracked eggs into the well of flour, mixing and kneading until it became a smooth golden dough. You carefully, tenderly rolled the dough and cut it into thick, short noodles. A bath in hot water to cook, then they too joined the pot. In no time at all, you were ladling a generous portion into a bowl. You set a toasted piece of chibatta on the side, grabbed a spoon, and took a deep breath in an attempt to settle your nerves. Softly, you knocked on the office door.

“Yeah?” His voice responded.

“Chef?” You entered, nervous. Words failing you as they so often did in his presence, you set the bowl before him. Carmy’s eyes widened. The aroma made his mouth water. He looked to you, gaze softening. “You made me chicken soup?”

Your cheeks grew warm. “Y-yeah, I mean chicken soup always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”

Carmy couldn’t believe you. You noticed? He smiled at you. You were so beautiful. You were always so confident and sure on the line, delegating with efficiency, respect, and authority. He had hired you the second you stepped into The Beef. Your resume was impressive but there was something in the way you carried yourself that truly earned the golden reputation you had in the culinary industry. But you were different with him, in the occasional moments like this where it was just you and him. Shy, almost bashful, gentle, and soft. He loved it. He wanted more of it. He lifted the spoon, bringing a bite to his lips.

“Gotta get a little of everything.” You muttered, eagerly awaiting his response.

Carmy shot you a sideways smile. It was good. No, it was better than good. The warm broth slid down his throat and each bite exploded with a depth of flavor he couldn’t believe. It was pure comfort. It reminded him of being a little kid staying home sick from school. Curled up on the couch while Jerry Springer played, eating crackers and ginger ale until his mom would bring a bowl of chicken noodle soup. But this soup, your soup, was more than that. People always talk about cooking with love but he swore he could taste it. Each ingredient had been so carefully handled. Perfectly chopped vegetables, moist and flavorful chicken. The warm feeling in his chest grew as he inspected the bowl.

“Did uh, did you make this pasta fresh?” He asked, eyeing you.

“Yeah, it’s better that way.” You blushed.

“Thank you, chef.” He said. “It’s really, really good.” Carmy looked down, suddenly feeling heavy. The fear of closeness set into him and all he could think about was how he’d fuck this up. “You-you didn’t have to make this for me.”

“Oh, it’s okay!” You insisted. “It was no big deal.” You began to leave, giving him one last truthful smile. “I like taking care of you.”

“I like taking care of you.” Your words rattled through Carmy’s mind all day. Throughout all of lunch, prep, and dinner he couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d said. The soup you had made was the first thing he’d eaten in too long. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for him and you’d just done it because you noticed he wasn’t feeling well. No motive, no games, just tender love and concern.

Love.

Carmy shook his head to try and shake the thought from his mind. No, no, no there was no way you actually cared about him. Not like that. You were just being nice.

That’s just who you are; nice. You were always so kind. The way you’d help Marcus workshop pastries, the way you’d make Tina laugh and listen to her talk about whatever trouble Louis had gotten in, how you’d encourage Sydney and remind her that she can do this. Even the way you’d throw snark right back at Richie or how’d you’d always set aside a portion of Family for Fak and Sugar, even Pete. You were always thinking of others. Carmy wasn’t special.

Yeah. Not special.

Carmy insisted the thought as he scrubbed the grill. Not special. Not special. Not special.

“Carmy?” There you were. You were always there. You had a thick denim jacket on, bag on your shoulder, knit beanie pulled down over your hair. Your brow furrowed at the sight of him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Carmy shook his head. “I’m fine… you uh- you heading out?”

You shrugged, hoisting your bag a little higher on your shoulder and eyeing him skeptically. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah, in a bit.”

You chuckled, more exasperated than humorous. “No.”

“What?” Carmy asked, confused.

“No, you’re leaving too.” You insisted. You were feeling bold. Months of long looks and his hand on your lower back every time he passed you had culminated tonight.

You had taken over the front for Richie while he ducked out to take a call from his daughter. You’d insisted. It was slammed for dinner but everything was going fairly smooth until an irate customer approached you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He’d asked, slamming his plate onto the counter.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean are you retarded or something?” He continued. You were stunned into silence. You had never had anyone speak to you like that. “How hard is it to make a fucking sandwich? I know your tits are bigger than your brain but Jesus fucking Christ it’s not hard!”

“I-I…” you were shaking. “I’m sorry that you’re not satisfied, sir. If you like, we can-”

“Not satisfied?!” He screamed. “How can I be satisfied with this piece of shit!”

He hurled the sandwich at you. It hit you in the chest, toppings and sauce splattering everywhere. Before you even knew what was happening, a blur of messy curls shot past you. Carmy launched over the counter, tackling the man. His fist collided with the man’s face over and over while Richie and Fak rushed after him. There was a cacophony of yells as Richie pulled Carmy back. “Get your girl!” Richie yelled. “Cousin! Go get your girl!”

Fak and Richie dragged the man out and threw him into the street. Carmy’s hands grasped your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” He wiped the sauce splatters from your brow. “Look at me.”

Carmy burned with anger as he watched you shake. Your white shirt and blue apron were covered in the sandwich. He imagined what you would do for him if he was in your position. How you’d care for him, how you’d tend to him… so he tried to do what you would. Gently he guided you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist. He practically carried you to his office where he sat you on the couch and quickly went to grab a clean shirt from his own locker. You were in the same place he left you when he returned. Carmy knelt before you, taking your face in his hands once more.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Tears welled in your eyes and you collapsed into his arms. He smoothed his hand over you back, repeating “it’s okay” over and over again. He felt like he was on fire. The feeling of you clinging to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, the smell of you, how you fit in his arms… it was too much. He wanted to run away and never speak to you again. He wanted to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of his life. He wanted to scream. He wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to find the piece of shit that yelled at you and rip him to pieces. He wanted your chicken soup every time he was sick.

All those feelings were closing in on Carmy once again as he stared at you across the kitchen. You still had his t shirt on. You were looking at him expectantly.

“Sorry, uh… what did you say?” Carmy’s voice was softer than he expected.

“I said I’ll walk home with you.”

“Oh, no that’s okay. Ive got to-“

“Carmy,” you stepped closer. Your voice was firm but so tender. “You need to get some rest. Come on, I won’t take no for an answer.”

He couldn’t help but smile back at you. “Alright…” he conceded.

The two of you braced yourselves against the cold and hurried down the sidewalk side by side. You argued about who would walk who home. Carmy insisted on walking you to your apartment but you protested on the grounds that he’d just go back to the restaurant once he dropped you off.

“Fine,” you gave in. “But you have to call me when you get to your place so I know you made it home!”

Carmy looked at the ground, smiling. The warmth in his chest from your soup was steadily turning into a molten pool of lava.

“Heard.” He grinned. You wanted to know he’d made it home. You wanted to make sure he rested. I like taking care of you.

“Well, I’m just up here.” Your voice stopped his thoughts from spiraling before it could even start. Carmy’s brow furrowed. “What?” You asked, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor.

“You live over there?”

“Yeah? Like a block down?”

There was a beat of silence before Carmy let out a breathy laugh. “I live right there.” He pointed to the building on the other side of the street.

“No shit!” You laughed in earnest. Your hand came to rest on his arm. “Guess I’m gonna be walking you home more often.”

Carmy’s entire body was on fire. He could imagine the tingle of your soft hand on his skin through all the layers of clothing. He wanted to hold you close again like in his office, but this time you wouldn’t be crying. A deep pit opened in his stomach. How long before he made you cry? How long before he fucked it all up? Until you hated him and quit the restaurant and everything fell apart because he-

“Hey,” your voice. Always your voice that brought him back. When he looked over at you it was like everything but your face faded into a blurry background. You were all Carmy could see. “Do you want to come to mine? I haven’t eaten and I KNOW you haven’t either.”

Carmy’s heart fluttered. “O-okay.” He started, his confidence rising when he noticed your hand was still in his arm. “Only if you let me cook you something.”

“Ooh,” you smiled. “I’d never turn that down!”

Carmy chuckled, feeling lighter for the first time in years as he walked so close beside you that your shoulders brushed. “It won’t be as good as your chicken soup.”

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Sanji finds you crying and pretends to believe your excuses. Is anyone up for slow dancing in the rain?]

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When the time for supper came, Sanji knocked on your door to let you now. He was met with silence, so he naturally assumed you were sleeping. Not much of a problem - he'll set aside a portion for when you wake up hungry.

The problem is, that was around two hours ago.

Sanji knocked on your door again and when silence answered him this time also, he allowed himself to peek inside. Only to discover your bed is empty. He grew suspicious, if not worried, when no one could tell him where you went. It's the middle of the night and the rainstorm doesn't stop. Sanji also noticed how quiet and upset you've been most of the day, making him all the more tense that you are unaccounted for. The thought that you're obediently suffering in silence breaks him more each time he entertains it.

Sanji is scrubbing the cutting board with feverish vigour. The faster he finishes, the faster he can get to making sure you're fine. As though the fish scales knew his thoughts, they simply wouldn't get off the wooden surface.

The steel scrubber escapes his hands. It hits the sink with a quiet clank. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down and looks away from the pile of dishes. That's when he finally sees you through the smudged porthole. The rain outside obscures your silhouette. Nevertheless, Sanji is beyond convinced that it is, in fact, you. Despite the initial relief, he feels his chest tighten. You look like a marble statue, forever frozen still in grief.

Leaving the cutting board in the sink and grabbing his suit jacket, Sanji dashes out the door, making haste to you. What on Earth do you think you're doing out in this weather?

The cold rain hits him like a wall of ice. True, the cool water may feel refreshing after the hot and humid daytime hours but not at this rate of rainfall. Even if the nights in the open sea weren't so dark, it would still be impossible to see anything beyond the ship.

He has to come close to you to see the heartwrenching details of your silhouette. You're hunched over, staring at the turbulent waters below. The clothes you're wearing are absolutely drenched, no dry string in their material. Every now and then, your freezing body shivers violently.

"Love?" he calls out to you in an unsure voice.

But you don't react - at least not in the way he has been expecting you to. Instead of looking at him, you turn your face further away, quickly wiping it with your hands.

Sanji wastes no time. In long strides, he finds himself pressed up against your side and forcing his jacket around your shoulders. Considering the heavy rain it won't do much in the long run but maybe it can keep you warm until he convinces you to go back inside.

"Hey, look at me," he pleads in a soft voice.

Too tired and heartbroken, you let his warm fingers guide your face towards him. As if time suddenly slows down, you notice each wrinkle that appears and disappears when he studies your sorrowful expression. If he was a little less perceptive, Sanji would think your face is just wet from the heavy rainfall. The red veins of your bloodshot, puffy eyes are hardly visible in the darkness of the rainy night but not black enough to remain unseen by Sanji.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying? What happened?" he keeps asking. With each question, he feels the tension in his chest only rising.

"I'm not crying, I'm perfectly fine," you reassure him. Your forced scoff is followed by a pathetic sniffle. "It's just the rain. Saltwater irritated my eyes."

Of course, with your whole "I'm brave and strong and I can manage on my own" facade, you're not going to openly admit to weakness in front of anyone, even if it's painfully obvious. As much as Sanji considers your tough image charming, he wishes you would discard it once in a while - for your own sake.

"How can you be fine with saltwater in your eyes, princess?" Sanji goes along with your poorly constructed lie. His arms engulf you in a warm, albeit drenching wet, hug. "It must burn."

"Yeah, it does," you mumble against his soaking shirt. With a little more light, you would be able to see his bare skin from underneath the wet material. "But it's getting better."

One of Sanji's hands is keeping your head against his shoulder while the other drags up and down your back in a soothing gesture. The jacket he has put around your arms is already drenched, too. He feels your body shaking but can't be sure whether it's because of the "saltwater" or the cold weather. In any case, his heart breaks each time he feels those spasms. His mind panics in search of something that could possibly lift your mood.

The noise of the rainfall is disrupted by a soft, low hum. A melody you vaguely know rumbles inside Sanji's chest. Dean Martin...? Strong arms hold you tightly against his torso as he ever-so-gently sways you to the rhythm of the song.

A quiet giggle escapes your lips as you let yourself sink into the comfort of him. Up until this moment, the cosiness of a loved one's arms confronted with the coldness of a rainstorm, you've thought that scenes like these exist only in sappy novels written for naive young women.

"Slow dancing in the rain," you finally speak up. If it wasn't for the rather unpleasant rain drenching you to every last string of your clothing, yous wear you could fall asleep like this. "Aren't you a hopeless romantic, Sanji?"

"I'm just getting started, love," he murmurs against your hair, still slowly swaying your bodies despite having stopped the humming. You're inclined to believe that his chivalry ventures far beyond dancing in the rain.

"Oh, yes, please."

A low chuckle rumbles inside his chest. It merges into a symphony with the soft thrumming of his steady heartbeat.

"Feeling any better?" he asks in a serious tone.

To Sanji's dissatisfaction, you lean away from him to look at his face. Your eyes are still red but the curious glint he's learned to associate with you has found its way back into them. It seems like your grit, honesty or facade, has returned.

"What will you do if I say no?" you ask back.

As relief washes over him, Sanji smiles down at you. His hand slicks your drenched hair out of your puffy face.

"I should figure something out just for my baby," he answers without missing a beat. His fingers brush along your jaw and chin.

Before you have a chance to inquire, Sanji leans down and lifts you. A yelp of surprise is pulled out of your chest. Without much problem and clearly with a lot of enjoyment, he carries you back inside the lower deck of the ship.

[hongism]

BOUNCY. - j. yunho, c. jongho (m)

➼ genre; smut ➼ pairing; yunho x fem!reader x jongho ➼ au; outlaw/mechanics!2ho, dystopian futurism, lore accurate ateez ➼ warnings; explicit smut, some terribly unfunny mechanic jokes i’m really sorry ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 4.9k

‘Two for the price of one!’ the sign outside the shop had read, and well, you’ve never been one to pass up on a good deal.

part of the outlaw miniseries.

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➼ smut warnings; piv, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, fingering, manual stimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, hair pulling, choking, sloppy seconds, creampie, pet names: sugar, sweets, dear & baby, dirty talk, breeding kink, name calling: bitch & slut, voyeurism & exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, dom yunho, sub reader, slight bimbofication, spit play, size kink, praise kink

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You pull up to Outlaw Customs, the repair shop that’s become something of a second home for your car, two minutes before closing. If it were anywhere else — and anyone else running the place — you would never dream of being such a terrible customer, but since you know both men inside well enough to have a working relationship outside of this little business they run, you aren’t worried about causing any issues. And, well, if you do, Yunho will surely let you know in his own snarky way.

The garage door is still wide open, with Yunho on full display at the mouth of it as he works on the vehicle that’s always parked front and center. As you cross the threshold into the garage, your eyes catch on a sign propped up outside that you hadn’t seen the last time you were here. Two for the price of one on any repairs! A scoff slips out of you as you eye it, and that noise is what pulls Yunho’s focus from his work to you.

“You didn’t tell me you were running a deal,” you whine, drawing a laugh from the man before you.

“We still gotta make money somehow, sugar!” He nods his head towards the other side of the car, where another familiar face sits on the run-down couch you gave to them when they first opened up shop down the street from your apartment complex. It was something of a trade and an icebreaker: you needed a cracked headlight patched up, and they needed some furniture to fill out the garage and make it more homey for any customers who would come and go. Jongho gets up when you come over though, simply to move from the couch to the desk chair right beside it, and you take the spot where he was just sat.

“What’ll it be this time, sweets?” Jongho arches a brow at you in question and leans back in the chair. He exudes the same natural attractive confidence that he always has, and it shines through in the way he’s sitting with his legs splayed out and how one hand rests on his upper thigh while the other closes into a loose fist against the surface of the desk. He’s changed up his hair since you were last here too, now accentuated with white highlights that frame his head nicely. Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed, however, and he clears his throat gently when you fail to respond after several seconds.

“Oh, um, I’m in desperate need of a new tire. Back left. I think I hit a nail on the road or something, she’s been causing me trouble for weeks now.”

“And you didn’t come in sooner?”

You draw your lips into a firm ‘o’. “I started having issues two days after you demanded to do my oil change! Which I could have done myself really, but now — I can’t see what’s causing the issue, and no matter how many times I pump the damn thing, it still has shit air pressure. Besides, if you wanted to see me sooner, you don’t have to wait around for me to have another car issue to do so.”

Jongho shifts to find something on the desk. The tips of his ears are stained red, and that color bleeds down to his neck. “Yunho is the one who demanded to do the oil change though,” he mumbles, pulling out a clipboard with a blank sheet of paper attached to it. “I’ll go take a look and do a quick inspection to see if anything stands out.”

“Keys are on the dash!” you call after him before he slips out and leaves you somewhat alone with Yunho. Said man is laughing to himself as discreetly as he can manage but says nothing in favor of continuing his fiddling at the car. “Were you really the one to demand that oil change?”

“Technically no. But I did say that if he wanted an excuse to pull you over here then he could offer to do it for you.”

“Despite knowing I always do it myself?” you inquire as you push up from the couch. Your hands come to rest on your hips, chin tilting to match the attitude in your stance, and Yunho’s tongue pokes between his lips. His eyes move over your body in a quick series of glances before he knocks the round of his wrench against the headlight in front of him as though it’s a hammer.

“Um—” he fights to clear his throat but once he starts blushing, it’s impossible to miss against his pale skin. You step closer to where he’s crouched and squat down next to him once you deem yourself close enough — that being within touching distance, that is, where your shoulder can brush against his any time he tries to move even a hair.

“What are you working on?”

Again Yunho’s gaze finds you; this time, he lets it trail over your face first before going any lower, and you grant him a little smile for the bit of unnecessary chivalry.

“You’re too pretty to dirty your hands on me, sugar.”

“You say that every time,” you argue. You never get tired of admiring his side profile, but right now it comes with the added bonus that it watching his throat bob as he swallows hard around nothing but saliva and air.

“You don’t wanna make sure Jongho’s not changing your oil without permission again?” The roll of your eyes is far from subtle by any means, and the dramatization of the gesture brings a snort of laughter out of the man next to you.

“There are other inspections you can do, right? Since I’m a regular here and all.”

“Are you really in need of new tires, dear? From where I’m sitting, it seems like we aren’t the only ones who try to find excuses ‘round these parts.”

Leaning away, you put a hand over your chest and scoff. “The audacity of this man! Jongho, did you hear that?” He’s moving back into the garage as you call out to him, slapping the clipboard against the outside of his thigh. You only get a laugh out of him which seems to you like he agrees with Yunho. He lowers the garage door once safely out of the way and moves back to his seat at the desk. “See, he didn’t say he didn’t find anything.”

“He also didn’t say he did find something, sugar.”

“And, did he?” you prompt, eyes narrowing on Jongho’s back. Even though he can’t see you, he gives you the answer you want to hear with a quiet hum of affirmation, and you flick your chin back to Yunho to send him a smug little grin. “Besides, is there any harm in wanting a good deal?”

“That depends.” Yunho’s voice drawls a little, and he presses the heels of his hands against his thighs to help propel him into a standing position. The wrench in his hand gets tossed back to the cart nearby, bringing an echoing clatter to fill the garage with noise as your eyes lock. “Two for the price of one is a big deal after all.”

“And?” You stand slowly in contrast to how eager Yunho was to stand upright, but he watches your every move with rapt attention. In this game, it’s hard to tell which one of you is stalking the other — both playing the part of a predator so well that it’s indistinguishable. In your humble opinion, Yunho’s resolve is cracking much faster than yours.

“And it comes with lots of nice add-ons but they can be a lot to handle.”

“I never pass up on a good deal though,” you murmur through a pout, deigning to look down to the floor and back up to meet Yunho’s gaze through fluttering lashes. “I like handing big loads too.”

“Oh my god.” Jongho’s voice and the following groan cut through the building tension. “Quit making gross innuendos and just fuck! Making me sit here and agonize through that shit, disgusting.” Your face draws into something close to a scowl, one that matches his expression when you turn to look at him. In a move of childish vengeance, you stick your tongue out at him.

“Let us have our fun!”

“Yeah, yeah, have your fun and fuck.”

“Not joining?” Yunho asks, hand running over the curve of your hip already.

“I’ll sit back and watch you get your fill first then have seconds later. You always feel best after he’s thoroughly used you, sweets.” Your expression is somewhere between bewilderment and a smile, eyes following him as he moves back to the couch and throws himself down to the cushions facing you and Yunho. “What? He leaves you good and loose for me.”

“Jongho.” Your tone is breaching the edge of chastisement, but the words you plan to continue with are knocked out of you in a soft oof as Yunho turns you towards the car and suddenly bends you over the hood without warning.

“He’s right, isn’t he? I do open you up quite nicely.” You brace your hands against the hood, pushing up just enough to send a look back at Yunho over your shoulder. He’s already moved back some, however, and redirected his attention to slipping his fingers between the band of your pants and the skin underneath. “May I, sugar?”

“Go on then,” comes your whispered response as you settle more comfortably against the hood.

“You look pretty splayed out against our gem, baby.” Your view of Jongho is entirely skewed like this, but you watch him as he speaks. Though still fully clothed, you get quite the eyeful of his crotch with the way he’s sitting in that same damned position that makes you want to crawl between his legs and suck him dry.

“Right where she belongs.” Yunho’s fingers are hot against your sex, cupping you through your underwear now that your pants are down to your ankles. He snaps the flat of his hand to the same spot, and the action draws a shiver out of you along with a breathy whine. “Are you up for subbing tonight, y/n?”

“Yes sir.”

“So good and I barely had to lift a finger,” Yunho coos down at you. Once again his fingers trail over the line of your lips and push fabric against your cunt, not enough to give you any sort of true stimulation but it makes your clit throb with want. “Still remember our safeword?”

“Bluebird.”

“There’s my good girl.” Yunho slaps his palm against your mound harder to accentuate his words. You let out a moan that catches you off-guard, but Yunho doesn’t allow you time to adjust to the new sensations. “Count for me, sugar.”

“How many do you think she deserves tonight?” From your perspective, you can see Jongho’s hand move in slow circles against the front of his pants.

“Hm, fifteen to start? She was mouthing off quite a lot with me earlier.” A chilling rush of adrenaline pushes through your body, a whine hanging at your lips and threatening to interrupt their conversation, but you bite it back by sinking your teeth into your lower lip. Jongho catches your slight blunder before you have the chance to hide it.

“Oh? I think she wants to say something, Yun.”

“What is it, sugar? You can count that high still, right? After all my cock isn’t in you yet. Your little head should be perfectly intact still.” Yunho slides a hand down your back and finds a resting place at your tailbone. He takes the fabric of your shirt into his palm before bunching it into his fist and yanking your body along the hood of the car. “Not a dumb cockslut yet, baby, come on and answer the question.”

“I-I can, yeah, I can count that high, sir.”

“Good girl. You sound nice and desperate already. Maybe you shouldn’t wait so long to come see us anymore, hm?”

“I won’t,” you whisper. Yunho’s hand comes down on your ass, slapping against the bare skin exposed by your panties, and the sting comes immediately. “I’ll come sooner next time.” Yunho clicks his tongue though. Your gaze is locked onto Jongho, however, and focused on following his movements as he pulls his pants down his thighs and lets his thick cock spring out fully erect and leaking at the tip already. Yunho tightens his grip on you. The pressure on your body increases tenfold, making it hard to breathe under the weight atop you. You feel hot breath cascading over your ear as Yunho inserts himself into your personal space.

“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten how to fuckin’ count, sugar,” he hisses into the shell of your ear. His tone is so wildly different than the one he uses in casual conversation — biting and scathing to the point of muddling your thoughts with desire. Nothing quite compares to sex with an angry Yunho, though you rarely can rile him up to that point and even now you don’t have him like that, just the barebones of annoyance that tease something more.

“N-No! One, one, I’m sorry sir.”

“If he’s so distracting, I can send you over to him with no prep, dear.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m — I’m focused, I promise. Please continue?” His response comes in the form of two more slaps over the same spot as the first one, sharp and pointed to make the skin beneath him heat up further. “Three…”

“Now that I’ve got your attention, make sure I keep it, sweetheart.”

There’s no real need for that reminder in your mind because once he starts building a steady rhythm and delivering the spanks to your ass with mere seconds between each one, you have no choice but to focus on him. Jongho is still before you, a sight unfolding gloriously as he strokes at his length with lazy little jerks and no intention of bringing himself much pleasure beyond that. Even Yunho goes quiet in his ministrations behind you, leaving the air to be filled with the sounds of his hand on your skin and whatever broken number you choke out after each one. You want to twist and writhe under him, to alleviate some of the burn that’s so present on your backside, but each time you try to so much as shift an inch, Yunho delivers an extra slap to your cunt. Well-placed and effective too — so close to your clit that it makes your knees buckle and you fall back into the position Yunho wants you in to carry out his task. The first ounce of reprieve comes at eleven, right when you’ve settled to push through the pleasurable punishment to the end.

“You know, sugar, you’re taking this so well that I’m wondering if we should increase the number. You aren’t nearly red enough yet, and we picked an odd number. I can’t show equal love to both sides like that.”

“Twenty?” Jongho chimes in, smile twisting as you shake your head. “Thirty?”

“Twenty is fine, I—” you inhale sharply at the sensation of Yunho running his hand along your skin. His touch is cold now, a welcome balm to the heat that emanates from the spot he’s just been hitting so ruthlessly. Your voice is so shaky that you have to swallow to contain the tremble before continuing. “It’s b-been a bit since we did this, I’m not u-used to it.”

Yunho remains quiet as he rubs his thumb over your warm skin in soothing circles for several more seconds. “One more, baby. Then you’ll be done for tonight.” He’s merciful but not entirely gracious because the last sharp slap he delivers to you feels ten times worse than all the others before, and you roll your head to push it into the hood as you cry out at the impact. He catches you as your knees buckle under you, preventing you from sliding straight down to the floor, and as you’re scrambling to regain your footing, he hooks two fingers under your underwear band. When he yanks at the elastic, it snaps against your body hard enough to make you hiss, and it burns a bit when they slide over your sensitive skin.

“Didn’t she do well, Yun?”

You crack an eye open to look over at the man on the couch and make direct eye contact with Jongho to find his gaze far softer than it was minutes ago.

“Of course she did. I expect nothing less from our pretty lady, dear. And—” Yunho pushes two fingers between your folds and dips right into your hole, bypassing all the arousal that’s begun to leak out of you “—she’s sopping wet to boot. Perfect.” The praise makes your body sing, and Yunho rewards your easy obedience by easing his fingers in and out of you with little resistance thanks to that wetness he mentioned. “You still on the pill?”

“Y-Yeah, as always. Haven’t missed a day.”

“Then I can cum in you?”

“Yes… yes sir.”

Yunho groans, and he moves his hand up from the small of your back to feel at the back of your head. He takes a handful of hair into his hold and grips tight enough to pull your head up from the car hood, but it’s not too terrible that you feel any sort of dramatic pain from the act.

“Gonna breed you fuckin’ full of cum then,” he growls, leaning into your space and knocking his forehead against your temple. “Maybe so well that that damn pill won’t work? If I fuck it into you hard enough then your body won’t have a choice but to take my seed.” A loud moan tumbles from your lips at his words. The hand you have propping your weight up wobbles, and just before your elbow locks, Yunho releases you and grabs for your hips with both hands. You’re close to complaining about the sudden departure of his fingers when he nudges the tip of his cock against your folds, sliding along the wetness in a crude form of lubrication.

“Fuck me, won’t you?” you plead quietly. You hope that if nothing else, the look on your face will convince him to get on with things, but it must be a combination of everything — the heady arousal in the air, your tone and words, even the sight of Jongho jacking off to the two of you only a few feet away. Yunho sinks deep into your cunt then; he buries the full length of his cock deep inside you, stretching you open further until it feels like you can feel him in your stomach. Your body trembles and drops forward as you press your free hand to your abdomen like it’ll help you feel him better. “God, you’re so fucking big, Yun.”

“All the better to breed you with,” he says before planting a hand between your shoulder blades and urging you all the way down once more. Jongho is squeezing the base of his cock with his other hand now, likely to keep himself from cumming too early, and Yunho is notorious for two things: his short refractory period and how long he can go without orgasm no matter what kind of stimulation he’s under.

The initial drag of his cock inside you feels like heaven, and when he thrusts back against your thighs, he does so with such force that your insides churn.

“Is she tight?”

“Insanely,” Yunho responds through gritted teeth. You try to lift your head to look back at his face, eager to see how broken his expression is right now, but he stops you in your tracks. Again, fingers threaded through your hair and locking in close to your scalp to give him the best grip that won’t hurt you too terribly much. He yanks you hard with the next thrust, and it brings your head up at an angle that stretches you hard enough to make your muscles burn with the effort of accommodating to it. “Barely been two weeks and you’re this tight again, sugar, your pussy is fuckin’ insane.”

You would laugh at the absurdity of his comment if you could, but in your current state, the only noise that can escape you are choppy moans. They’re the kind that sounds like they could come straight from an amateur porno, and despite the garage being closed, it doesn’t offer that much privacy. Anyone who walks by will suddenly become privy to what sounds like a home movie being filmed behind the metal door.

“Didn’t expect her to be this tight, fuck, I might cum early.”

You can’t warn Yunho of the same for yourself: between his thrusts, the full weight of his balls slap against your pussy from the sheer force behind how hard he’s fucking you, and the steady rhythm is just enough to stimulate your clit even without head-on contact. He knows your body well, however, and how to play you like a fucking fiddle, so when your walls start pulsing around the thickness of his cock, he shifts the angle and drives his tip so deep into you that you see stars behind your eyelids.

“Fuck, sweets,” Jongho exhales under his breath. Your vision is blurry when you open your eyes, but it snaps back to black a moment later when the orgasm hits you all of a sudden.

“Fuck, fuck, f-fuck!”

“That’s it, sugar,” Yunho coos from behind you, and his hand relaxes to run down to the back of your neck. He presses the pads of his fingers into the flesh there, poking and prodding at the muscles that have suddenly gone tense in the tsunami of sensations sweeping over you, but his thrusts don’t let up even as your walls squeeze hard around his length. Yunho fucks you hard and fast through the brunt of your orgasm. When your body finally relaxes and the waves die down to let you swim in the aftermath of it, he’s still driving his dick along your walls and knocking against your more sensitive spots. “Should I breed you now, dear? Fuck you nice and full of cum then send you to sit on Jongho’s cock?”

Your mouth hangs open enough to let saliva out of it and onto the car, yet it smears across your face when you lose the will to steady yourself against Yunho’s pace.

“Pl-please, sir.”

Yunho lays himself over you and spreads his hands to sit on either side of your head. His hips still against your backside. The fuzz in your brain nearly drowns out the feeling of cum pumping into you, without a doubt filling you to the brim. He’s still in the throes of recovery when you nudge Yunho off and out of you. You would stay longer with him inside, to feel that warmth and fullness for some time longer, but your body moves on its own agenda with a pulsing desire lingering in your gut. Despite the weakness in your muscles, you walk over to the couch where Jongho waits patiently and quietly. His gaze is heavy on you when you drop your hands to his shoulders.

“Baby…”

“Don’t stop her now, babe,” Yunho interjects. You don’t spare him a glance over your shoulder or anything like it — the movements of your body are methodical and calculated, a firm straddle over his hips and spread legs before you reach down to put your hand next to his against the length of his cock. Together, you guide him into your used cunt, pushing him in alongside the cum threatening to drip out of your body. A sigh of relief leaves your lips once he’s securely inside you.

“Feel good?” you whisper close to his face. Jongho’s cheeks are flushed, his pupils blown own so wide that you can barely see the color of his irises, and his lips glisten with spit. You can’t help yourself, you decide. He has the same thought in his mind because he’s the one to kiss you rather than the other way around, lips finding each other in a fit of passion that makes your chest burn.

“I want more,” he mutters into your mouth.

“Greedy.” You lift yourself up from his lap some, enough to let his cock nearly pull all the way out of you, then sink back down with a spine-curling pleasure that makes you throw your head back and moan to the ceiling. Yunho’s form enters your line of sight, and his hand finds the base of your throat. He stands behind you, chin tilted to his chest so that he can stare directly down at you. He’s handsome beyond belief even at this awfully skewed and awkward angle.

“Open,” he commands while tapping along the column of your throat. Your lips part completely to allow him access to whatever it is he wants from you.

Jongho’s firm and strong hands squeeze at your waist at the same moment. He takes the control from your hands, and you hand it over without complaint to let him work your cunt along his length as he sees fit and to chase his pleasure in full. Yunho hooks his thumb on the back of your teeth. It effectively holds you open and steady for the moment he decides to spit down into your mouth. The warmth on your tongue makes you wince, but then Yunho is withdrawing his thumb and pushing up against your chin.

“Close and swallow,” he says in what’s likely to be his last act of dominance for the night. Your eyes remain firmly set on his face as you do so — slow yet deliberate so that he can see your obedience in its full glory. Your reward is the sweetest gift. He lays a kiss to your forehead and taps your cheek gently. “Good girl.”

You right yourself enough to look down at Jongho, sending your focus to the lover beneath you. He lets you take his face between your hands without saying a word, but the second you lean in for a kiss, he bites out his thoughts.

“You take dick like a bitch in heat, sweets.”

“Y-You’re the one—” your voice sounds about as wrecked as you feel “—fucking me dumb.” Jongho slides his hands along the lines of your body until he reaches your ass, where the skin is still sensitive and burning from Yunho’s earlier punishment. He palms the flesh harshly enough to make you cry out. “Want you inside too.”

“One wasn’t enough? How much cum do you need?”

“She’s a proper cumslut, really Jongho. You know this.” It’s unfair that Yunho sounds totally recovered and unbothered by the rough sex you just shared; meanwhile, you’re thoroughly wrecked and still going through the motions, working towards another impending orgasm on Jongho’s cock.

“Close?” he asks with a lilting tease hanging off his tone. You push yourself against him as best you can, close enough to knock your forehead into his.

“I bet you’ll cum first, big boy. Your needy dick is begging to breed me.”

Jongho’s nostrils flare at the accusation, but it’s an accurate one with the way his haphazard thrusts are becoming more and more staggered. Nothing inspires Jongho quite like a small competition though, even if it encourages him to play dirty and reach around to your front. He plunges a hand down alongside where his cock meets your body. Your bubbling complaints about his dirty tactics fall short at the mouth of your next orgasm, and he all but steals the air from your lungs with a few little twists of his fingers on your clit. He cums with you immediately after — but after nonetheless, as you’re certain he’ll note later on. Your body sags atop his even as he drives his length into you a few more times for good measure and to milk himself for all he’s worth, adding another load to what Yunho’s already left in you.

Said man makes another appearance too, with bottles of water in hand as he lowers himself to the couch cushions right beside you and Jongho. You take one of the presented bottles with a quiet murmur of thanks, easing up from your slumped position to take several greedy sips in an effort to soothe your poor throat.

“By the way,” Jongho tilts his head in Yunho’s direction. A moment passes that’s full of silent anticipation, and it’s only when Yunho’s brows start to furrow that Jongho finishes his thought. “Her tires are fine.”

The incredulous look you get from Yunho makes the ruse well worth it, and the small flare of anger that crosses his eyes briefly only serves to make you want to tease him further.

────────────

please like & reblog this work and consider leaving a reply or sharing your thoughts in a reblog or ask!

this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.

[stillmonsterz]

my summer girl

pairing: jay x reader

genre: smut, fluff

summary: it's 1975, jay is about to enter his last year of university, and he's still a virgin. however, he plans to change that this summer when he goes abroad to france. the only problem is finding someone good enough to be his first.

warnings: unprotected sex, swearing, voyeurism, dubcon

word count: 7.2k

--

It was the summer of 1975, and Jay was going to lose his virginity. He knew that he was a late-bloomer; 21 years old, three years of university under his belt, and he hadn’t so much as seen a woman in her undergarments. But contrary to the teasing remarks of his friends, it was his decision. Jay wanted it to be a perfect experience, something out of the fanciful, romantic novels he regularly read in his spare time, or like a movie. He wanted his first time to be complete with red roses on white sheets, aromatic oils dripping from their bodies, and swelling music that led to a sensuous, thrilling crescendo. Jay occupied the time not spent on work, school, and his various hobbies with these grandiose fantasies. While his friends cavorted with the women from their established university, Jay bided his time. 

Then he got the best news of his life. As he packed away his clothes for summer vacation, one of his classmates who worked in the school office knocked on his door.

“Jay,” she said, “your mother called.”

Jay brightened; he liked to hear from his parents, and he was fully prepared to brag about both his grades and his prowess on the rugby field. The words that came out of his mother’s mouth, however, dashed away all thoughts of grandstanding.

“Honey,” his mother said as he clutched the phone. “We’re coming to get you shortly.”

“Today? I already booked a flight to visit you guys in a few days,” he replied. “I was just packing up.”

“Well, we’ve had a slight change of plans. We’ve decided to fly to France for a month this summer!”

Jay nearly dropped the phone, but he tried to feign nonchalance. “France? That’ll be a great opportunity to practice my French with the locals…”

His mother cooed, “Oh, aren’t you so practical? We’ll be staying at this gorgeous chateau in a town called Gordes, I’m sure you’ll love it…”

She kept speaking, but Jay was too busy imagining his summer. He wouldn’t just lose his virginity in France, he would be able to  have madcap adventures with a gorgeous woman. A wild summer fling charged with youthful exuberance and set in such a romantic country…it was beyond his expectations.

When he got off of the phone, Jay was practically vibrating with excitement. He rushed to his friends’ dorm room- Heeseung and Jake’s room. His own roommate, Sunghoon, was nowhere to be seen. Probably trying to convince his on-again off-again girlfriend that they should take a break so he could “sort himself out.”

Jay burst inside of the room. “Guys,” he said, opening the door with gusto, “I have some excellent news.”

Heeseung and Jake had been sitting cross-legged on the floor and playing a game of Crazy Eights, a game that they didn’t halt despite Jay’s intrusion. “Are you finally going to get laid?” Jake asked blithely, setting down a five of spades.

“Yes, actually,” Jay said, leaning against the doorframe.

Heeseung and Jake looked at each other, then at Jay. 

“Really?” Heeseung asked suspiciously, while Jake asked, “You’re not going to visit a whorehouse, are you?”

“Yes,” Jay said, pointing at Heeseung. He shifted his finger over to Jake. “And no to that.”

Heeseung chanced a smile. “You’re seriously going to do it?”

“Yes,” Jay said, crossing his arms. “My family and I are going to France for the holidays. I’m going to meet a beautiful woman, and she will be my summer girl.”

Heeseung rested his hands on his jeans, a smirk on his face. “Your what?” 

“My summer girl,” Jay explained, gesticulating madly. The scenes played out in front of his very eyes like a Technicolour romance. “We’ll meet at the chateau, we’ll play tennis together, hold hands, and then I’ll fuck the everliving daylights out of her every single day. Then- stop laughing at me- then I’ll leave her behind, because she’s my summer girl.”

Jay heard footsteps behind him- it was Sunghoon, trotting down towards the room with an annoyed expression on his face. “Hey guys,” he said, walking past Jay and sitting on Heeseung’s bed.

Jake turned to Sunghoon, who was swigging on a bottle of coke. “Sunghoon,” Jake said with feigned innocence, “our friend Jay here is going to find a ‘summer girl’ and ‘fuck the everliving daylights out of her.” Sunghoon choked on his soda as he doubled over in laughter. Jay clenched his hands into fists as his friends teased him. That’s fine, Jay thought, It is not by muscle, speed, or physical dexterity that great things are achieved, but by reflection, force of character, and judgment. And he had force of character in spades. While they dabbled with whores and sluts, he would find a quality, stunning woman to be his summer girl. 

–

As it turns out, not only were there no quality, stunning women milling about the chateau, there weren’t even any whores and sluts. Jay had walked all around the premises of the area in abject horror. The chateau stood by itself, nestled into a forested area with no neighbors for miles. Jay could. The nearest town was a 40 minute drive away, and not only was Jay an unconfident driver, but the town was so small he figured that any single woman was probably single for a reason. He tried to keep up his spirits so that his parents wouldn’t realize that he was disappointed- or worse, attempt to figure out why he was so disappointed. As he trudged through the opulent, spacious chateau, however, he felt a heaviness in his heart and a stiffness in his cock. There was a codgy butler milling around, a cook in the kitchen, and apparently there was a maid. Presumably, they were all related.

Jay slumped onto his bed and sighed. His room was rustic, with dark-stained floors, white-washed walls, and hand-carved wooden furniture. There was a small bookshelf in his room replete with both French and English books, so at least he would come away this summer with a decent grasp of French grammar. Jay groaned again, closing his eyes. He wished that the soft light filtering through the gauzy curtains beside his bed  would turn to raucous thunder and gloomy skies, or at the very least a drizzle of rain to complement his mood.

He heard a knock on the door and sighed. “Who is it?”

“Ah, housekeeping,” the voice said quietly. Jay’s ears perked up; that voice sounded decidedly feminine. Then he came back to reality; maids were generally married women who would have little interest in sleeping with the son of the master of the home. When Jay didn’t respond, the woman continued, saying, “Mrs. Park asked to have some tea delivered to your door, in case the flight unsettled your stomach.”

He wished that it was the flight causing him this internal anguish. “Please,” he said, closing his eyes and crossing his arms behind his head, “bring it in.”

The door opened quietly, and Jay could hear the rattle of the tea tray as it was carried into the room and set on his nightstand. His nose picked up on something, a floral fragrance that wafted in a pleasant cloud. 

He opened his eyes, and then he saw you.

You were wearing a dark blue maid uniform with a stained white apron, but you kept yourself well. You were groomed well, your nails were clipped short and polished, and your face was bright and sweet. And that perfume…Jay wondered how much you had had to save up to purchase it, or if it had been a gift. Maybe a boyfriend had gifted it to you.

“Did you need something else?” Your voice was so kind, and you looked at him so expectantly.

“No,” Jay whispered softly, “nothing at all.”

You nodded and pointed to a small piece of cloth hanging out of the wall above his desk. In his despondent mood, Jay hadn’t noticed it. “If you need me, you can pull that and it’ll alert me. It’s a bit old-fashioned, but this is an older house…”

Jay smiled. “Any time?”

“When you need something, sir,” you replied, smoothing your apron down. 

Jay cleared his throat. “Of course.” He poured himself a cup of tea, dropping two lumps of sugar inside and mixing it languidly. As he sipped his tea, he noticed that you were still lingering nearby. His smirk was hidden by his teacup as he looked you up and down. You must want him already. “Ah…you’re still here, Miss…?”

You told him your name, then said, “I have to be dismissed.”

Jay’s face reddened. “Right. Yes, right, of course. You’re dismissed.” You bid him goodbye and left him with the tea tray. As Jay sipped his tea, his feet crossed at the ankle, his vision for the summer shifted. Instead of wild encounters in haylofts and dirty, wet hot sex in valleys and behind churches, Jay now envisioned himself ravaging you in that little maid outfit of yours. Yes, he thought as his hand slowly crept to his crotch, this was perfect. 

He had found his summer girl.

–

Jay was able to quickly ascertain the problem with his plan- you were his maid. And you had to work. While he lounged outside, sunbathing shirtless, you were inside polishing the silver. He would eat lavish dinners, and you were the one who set the table, brought the food, and stood by on hand and foot. While he enjoyed being able to ogle you at his leisure, he started to feel like a brat. What could he do to prove to you that he wasn’t just a spoiled child? 

When he would stew over this, he would feel indignant. Why did he care about what the wait staff thought of him? He was Jay Park, and you should be so glad that he wasn’t ordering you to hand-wash his boxers. In fact, what was stopping him from just ravishing you the second you walked inside of his room? He was a rugby player, and rich, and he could get away with it. Just as quickly as those thoughts would enter his head, however, they would be cast out. For starters, it wouldn’t be right. Moreover, it wouldn’t have been earned. He had spent years building up to the loss of his virginity, and he didn’t want it to be with a woman struggling to get away from him. He wanted to seduce her, pliant in his arms as he made passionate love to her on his bed, or on a beach, or maybe on the balcony, or by a river…

Generally, these mental deliberations always ended with him squirting lotion onto his hands and soothing his angry cock the best way he knew how. They were always fuelled by the image of you puttering around the chateau. 

You had this way about you that Jay found intoxicating. He would always pretend to read, but he would take peeks at you as you cleaned up. Something about your movements, your manner of speech were all so sensual. The care with which you take care of the house, the knitting of your eyebrows as you scrubbed at a particular spot, the precision you utilized when tidying his room, it all appealed to his more epicurean sensibilities. And, of course, that scent…whenever you left the room, he would stand where you had been and he would deeply inhale its heady aroma. 

After a week of this, Jay had come up with a paltry idea. He tugged on the piece of cloth, and within three minutes you arrived at the door. As usual, your expression was bright. “Hello, sir,” you said politely. 

“Hi,” he said with a tenderness that would have earned him Jake’s derision. “I would like you to bring me some Earl Grey tea. And bring two teacups.”

You gave him a quizzical look, but you said, “Yes, sir,” and bustled out of the room anyway. 

When you left, Jay picked up his small pocket mirror and checked his hair. He unbuttoned one of his buttons on his loose shirt, fluffed out the collar, and parted the curtains so that the light would settle on his face better. He laid on his bed with a practiced relaxation, waiting for you to return. 

You came back with a tea try equipped with two cups. Setting it on the nightstand, you smiled. “Enjoy, sir…”

“No, no, you’ll join me,” Jay replied. The way your eyes widened was so cute, Jay just wanted to kiss you.

“Oh…I don’t know if I can do that, I’ve got to polish the silver…”

“I’ll come down and vouch for you,” Jay said, holding one of the cups to her. “Please? I haven’t been able to talk to anyone near my age in a week. I’m going mad.”

You laughed and warily accepted the cup, which you then set down to pour his own tea. 

Jay rested a hand on yours and shook his head. “Please, allow me. Come on, sit on the bed.”

You did as he said, leaving a fair bit of space between the two of you. He carefully poured the tea for both of you, willing his hand to stay steady. “How do you take your tea?”

“Just like this,” you said. 

“Really? No sugars, no milk, no cream?”

You shook your head, and Jay sighed. “Have you ever tried it with sugar?”

Once again, you shook your head, sipping your tea. “No point in wasting sugar like that.”

Jay gently took your cup and dropped a lump of sugar into your tea, mixing it. “Try it like this.”

You wrapped both of your hands around the cup and took a slow sip. He loved the way you drank. “It’s good like this,” you said. “Very good.”

“Isn’t it?” Jay looked at you closely, and he knew that the warmth bursting inside of his chest wasn’t good for his plan. You were his summer girl, and affection would only ruin that. Jay drank his tea, trying not to stare at you. He decided that engaging you in a conversation might help; reminding himself of the class difference between you two would stave off the feelings blossoming within him. “So…what do you like to do?”

“What do I like to do?” You drummed your fingers on the cup as you thought. “Well…I like to go for walks. The area is simply gorgeous, so I go for walks when I’m not working. I like to sketch, too.”

“You sketch?” Jay swallowed his tea in one painful gulp. “What do you like to draw?”

“Oh…everything, I guess. The things I see. I like to draw flowers, trees. Sometimes people.”

“Would you draw me?” Jay blurted out, setting his tea cup on the tray.

“I couldn’t do that,” you said with a slight laugh. “Imagine how embarrassed I would feel if I made you look bad.”

“I’m sure you couldn’t do that,” he said, leaning against the headboard. “You’re so careful with everything you do. I bet your drawings are lovely.”

“You’re just flattering me, sir.”

“No, no, not at all,” Jay said with a laugh. 

“Or you’re trying to get a free portrait out of me.”

Jay shrugged. “Can you blame me?”

“Yes, I can. Someone like you could afford to fly Elisabeth Chaplin here and have her paint a portrait of you,” you retorted. Then you stiffened; Jay figured that you weren’t used to speaking so casually.

He kept his voice light. “What are you saying then, that I should pay you?”

“How much would you pay for a portrait I did of you?”

“For you-,” he began, but just then, you heard a bell chime in a different room. The veneer of nicety came over you, and you quietly put your tea cup on the tray and lifted it. 

“Thank you for the tea-time, sir,” you said politely. “Have a lovely day.”

“Yeah,” Jay said, dejected. “You too.”

–

After that, he pulled on the cloth and asked for tea three more times. Three more times he had shared conversations of varying length with you, and something dreadful had happened to Jay. Instead of waves of raw, primal lust overtaking him and pushing him to take you on the sheets, Jay felt warm when he spoke to you. 

You told him about your ambitions, about how you had become a maid, your favourite records, your favourite books, how you would walk down the dusty road winding into town and meet your friend halfway. Then you would watch movies with her. You liked movies that were thrilling, a contrast to your own life. Every time you laughed, your eyes shifted, every time your fingers wrapped around the small teaspoon as you swirled a lump of sugar into your tea, Jay felt like the sun was rising within him. 

He watched you as you cleaned up. When you would go outside to tidy up the tennis courts after your parents would play a game, he would watch you, sometimes with one hand shoved inside of his pants. 

Jay knew that his fantasy of using you as nothing more than a warm body and bragging rights was fading away quickly. He had to refocus his efforts…but how? As he paced around his room one night, he got an idea. A damned good one, if you asked him. 

He knew that you got off work at 6 pm, so at 5:59 pm he tugged on the cloth. The scene was set; his bedsheets had been rumpled to mimic a post-coital aftermath, his shirt was sensually unbuttoned, and he had dabbed cologne behind his ears and on his wrists. The record player in the corner was playing a crooning Serge Gainsbourg song. The piece-de-resistance was the bottle of pinot noir that Jay had filched from his parents’ room while they were taking a stroll in the forest, along with two fine-stemmed wine-glasses.

As he heard your footsteps approaching his room, he adjusted his position so that he was lying on his back, one hand draped over his stomach, the other hanging over the edge of the bed. 

“Mr. Park?” you asked softly, rapping on his door.“Come in,” Jay said in a low, husky voice.

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘Come in,’” Jay said normally. You stepped inside, closing the door behind you, and Jay smirked at you. You had no clue what he had prepared for you. As usual, you were wearing your maid outfit, and your hands were clasped in front of your apron. Even from here, he could smell your sweet, floral scent; it was almost an aphrodisiac to Jay.

 “Come sit.”

You sat at the end of the bed so that his feet were pointed towards you. He shifted his position so that he was sitting up slightly. He leaned over to his nightstand and grabbed the bottle of wine.

“Do you like wine?” Jay asked, uncorking the bottle.

You nodded. “I do. I don’t drink it often, though.”

Jay poured you a glass of wine, making sure not to spill a drop. “This is a nice Domaine de Montille Les Pezerolles, from Pommard.”

“Oh, really?” You swirled the wine around in the glass, and he was pleased to see that you held the wineglass’ stem at the bottom. “It sounds good.”

“Yes,” he said, pouring himself a glass. He took a slow sniff of the wine before taking a sip. “This is from 1969, so it hasn’t completely thinned. In fact, it has a full body- you smell that?”

Before you could speak, Jay continued. “It was a dry summer when they harvested these grapes in Pommard in a premier cru- do you know what a premier cru is? It’s a vineyard where high-quality grapes are harvested. Of course, these aren’t the creme de la creme. The best grapes are harvested in what are called grand crus. Do you know Romanee-Conti?”

You paused, then said, “Ah…that’s a very expensive wine, yes?”

“It’s a type of wine,” Jay said, taking another sip of his wine. “I take it you’ve never had any?”

“Well…no.”

Jay pointed his pinky at you while he held onto his wineglass. “I’ll have to get you some someday. I’ve had a glass once, I believe it was a 1956 La Tache, and you can simply taste the caliber of the grapes. The tannins weren’t strong, more on the silkier side…”

You tilted your head. “What are tannins?”

Jay’s face brightened.Somehow, without knowing it, Jay had spent two hours explaining what tannins were, how wine was harvested, the ideal temperature to enjoy wine, and how he would pair the wine they were currently drinking with a meal. After 8 o’clock had approached, you had quietly excused yourself, bidding him goodnight. Jay had waved goodbye gaily, until he looked down at his empty wine glass and realized belatedly that he had squandered his opportunity to fuck you. 

Jay sighed and poured himself another glass of wine, sitting on his bed and closing his eyes. He was running out of ideas, and the third week of vacation was steadily approaching. If he went back to school without knowing what you felt like, what you tasted like, Jay thought he might die.

His dreams that night centered around you lying on his bed, naked save for a black pair of pantyhose. Jay was pouring that wine all over your body and sucking it off of your breasts, licking the sweetness from your stomach like a madman. He poured wine into your mouth, and you kissed him back so that he could drink from you. When Jay woke up, the taste of pinot noir was heavy on his tongue.

–

The next day, after breakfast, Jay knocked on the door of his parents’ room in the chateau. His father opened the door, smiling at him. 

“Hey, kid,” Mr. Park said, affectionately ruffling his hair. His father was wearing the same set of pajamas that Jay wore

“Dad,” Jay said quietly, “I need to speak with you.”

His father’s eyes narrowed in confusion; Jay’s expression was earnest and his tone was pleading. “Sure.”

Once they were safely inside of Jay’s room, Jay sat on his bed. His father joined him. 

“Dad…” Jay hesitated, unsure of how to word his question. Finally, he said it as plainly as he could: “How did you win Mom over? I mean…how did you approach her?”

Mr. Park’s eyes twinkled. “Has someone caught your eye?”

Jay tried to ward off his father, who was nudging him in the ribs with his elbows. “Not-not quite, Dad. Just…for the future, you know? For the future.”

Mr. Park laughed. “Sure, son.” He looked up at the ceiling as he thought, and Jay looked directly at his father. “Well, it wasn’t easy. I had to chase your mother. She was popular, beautiful, and smart, so it wasn’t an easy task. But she said that what she enjoyed was when I would send her flowers.”

“Flowers?”

His father shrugged. “She said it was such a classic gesture, it made her feel like I was more of a traditional man. Not someone who would just toy with her emotions then cast her aside like so much filth.”

“Flowers,” Jay repeated, his eyes darting around. Of course. Flowers.

“I was also honest about my intentions,” Mr. Park continued. “I knew that she was desirable, so I didn’t want to waste time. I told her how I felt and showed her my cards. That might not work for every woman, but your mother and I thought- think- similarly. And that’s what you want to find, Jay. Not someone who mirrors you, but someone who thinks just similarly enough to you that you’ll hardly argue, and differently enough that your arguments will be interesting.”

Jay smiled at his father’s joke, but he quickly became lost in thought. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’ve got a lot to consider.”

Mr. Park ruffled his son’s hair again. “Glad I could help, sport. I hope things go well with this girl.”

Jay smiled at his father affectionately. “Yeah, me t-,” Jay’s face blanched. “I mean, there is no girl.”

His father laughed as he left the room, and Jay sighed. At least now a plan was forming, something concrete. 

– 

Jay spent his entire afternoon wandering through the forest bordering the chateau searching for flowers. He brought his thick canvas bag with him, as well as a pair of shears. Every time he saw a gorgeous flower, he snipped it carefully and placed it into the bag. Violets, white flax, buttercups, sheaths of elderberry, red and purple poppies. Jay had to work fast; he wouldn’t forgive himself if the flowers even slightly wilted before you could enjoy them. As the sun set, Jay’s fingers were caked in dirt, sweat coated his brow, but his bag was filled with various, fragrant flowers. To his delight, he realized that their scent was similar to yours, and he walked towards the grounds of the chateau with his nose buried in a handful of flowers. 

You lived in the servants’ quarters, which was a smaller house located on the edge of the premises. It was past six o’clock, so you would surely be there now, washing up. Maybe you had already changed into something comfortable. Jay darted inside of his bathroom, cleaning all of the dirt off of his nails and changing into a loose shirt and linen pants. He slicked his hair back and applied cologne. Using a light blue ribbon from a package of artisanal biscuits, he tied the flowers together into a rough bouquet. Jay arranged the flowers carefully, placing the violets at the front and tucking the elderberry flowers as accents.

Jay swallowed thickly and walked over to the servants’ quarters. He knocked on the door, and as he waited for someone to come to the door he reminded himself that he was Jay Park, the son of James Park, someone to be revered, someone to be respected. 

To his delight, you answered the door. You were wearing a long nightgown, and your smile was so soft and dreamy Jay could have melted. 

“Hello, sir,” you said, leaning your head against the doorframe. “To what do I owe this honour?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. Then he thrusted the flowers towards you. “Here. For you.”

You beamed at him, and Jay knew he would have spent a month traversing that forest if it would make you smile like that again. “Thank you.” You received the bouquet, touching the flowers delicately. You closed your eyes and took in their scent.

Jay lingered outside of your door. He felt like he was being split into pieces. He wanted to caress your hair and kiss your cheek; he wanted to barge into your house, toss you on your bed, and take what he wanted from you; he wanted to run away until he was a better man, a stronger man; he wanted to be one of the flowers you were stroking, the perfume you inhaled. 

You looked up at him. “The butler and the cook won’t be back until 8,” you said quietly. “They’re still at the chateau.”

Jay’s breath caught inside of his throat. “Is that so?” 

“Yes, sir. So if you liked, we could go inside and talk?”

Jay’s eyes glowed. “Yes, yes, of course.”

You led him inside of the small home; there was one large room that constituted the kitchen, living room, and dining room, a bathroom, and three bedrooms that were hardly more than a cot and a dresser. Yours had drawings stuck on the wall, a threadbare blanket covering the bed, and a dresser that was covered in your makeup, hairbrush, and other toiletries. Jay sat on your bed and frowned as he looked around his room. 

“What is it?” you asked, setting the bouquet on the dresser. “Not to your liking?”

“That’s not it,” Jay said, his eyes fixed on your drawings. “It’s just that you deserve something better.”

You smiled at him. “Do I? Why?”

“Why? What do you mean, why? You’re…you’re too good for this,” Jay said, gesturing wildly. 

“So where should I be?”

So many words sprung to his mind that they clogged in his throat. You should be in my bed, in my college, in that chateau, on a beach being ravaged next to the ocean, lying in a flower field, anything except being a maid. Instead, Jay looked down at his hands.

“I’ll just get a vase for this,” you said, gesturing at the bouquet. Jay nodded, and as you left he gripped his thighs and sighed. He could hear his heartbeat thumping madly, and the fact that he was in your room wasn’t making things any better. Your scent was everywhere, lingered on everything, and it set his heart ablaze. 

With a furtive glance at the door, he leaned down to your pillow and inhaled deeply. Jay moaned slightly; he wished that you would stay away for a little longer, so that he could pleasure himself in a cocoon of your fragrance. He’d leave traces of himself everywhere, in your clothes, in that maid outfit, in your underwear. Jay was considering pawing around in your drawers to find your panties when you came back with a chipped vase. You set it on your dresser and tucked the flowers inside of it carefully, not disrupting the arrangement that Jay had made. For some reason, the way that your fingers deftly placed the flowers in the vase made him shiver from arousal. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore. Three weeks now, three weeks of smelling you and seeing you and learning about you without so much as a touch. Once you stepped away from the glass vase, Jay came up behind you and grabbed your shoulders, pinning you to the bed. You seemed more curious than anything else, your arms splayed at your sides.

“I want you,” Jay whispered. “I want you so...ardently, it hurts.” With trembling fingers, he shoved your nightgown all the way up to your waist. Now, he could glimpse your panties- white, of course you wore white panties. It was like you had been designed to ruin his summer. 

Jay didn’t bother taking his pants off all the way, instead only tugging them along with his underwear down slightly. His cock was hot and already leaking precum as he looked down at you, at your gorgeous pussy that was covered in a fine mat of downy hair. You stared up at him, seemingly daring him to make his next move.

Jay spit onto his hand and coated his cock in a mixture of saliva and precum. His entire body screamed for him to enter you, ruin you, to fulfill millenia of biological hardwiring. Jay trembled in anticipation as he finally pushed himself inside of you. It was like nothing he had ever experienced. You were so warm, inviting, and silky, like you had been made for him. The small gasp you had made as he had entered you was just perfect.

He thrusted inside of you, overwhelmed by the sensation of your velvety pussy. After another stroke, he realized that his orgasm was already racing through him. 

“No, no,” Jay whispered, pulling out of you, but the friction of your pussy as he slid out of you caused him to spasm. Cum spurted out of him in humiliating globules, landing on your stomach and nightgown. 

Jay hovered over you, his eyes widened with shock. “No. No, no, no. That-that was nothing. That only lasted for, what…”

“A minute,” you replied, your face impassive. 

“A minute,” Jay repeated in horror. “Oh, my God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” Jay squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. Now everything was ruined. He had come in a pathetically short amount of time. You probably didn’t feel a thing. 

Then he felt warm hands stroke his cheek, and his eyes opened. A small smile had graced your lips, and despite his despair he managed a smile too. 

“Was that your first time?” you asked quietly, tracing his lips with your thumb.

Jay hesitated, but there was no point in lying. “Yeah,” he whispered, “it was. You were.��

You nodded sympathetically. “It’s okay,” you said. 

“It…is?” Jay stared at you in awe.

Then, to his delight, you brought his head down and kissed him softly. It wasn’t rough, not the way his friends had described it- teeth clashing, tongues choking each other, hands wildly groping. This kiss was so gentle, and Jay reciprocated, his hands cupping your face. Your scent tickled his nostrils, filled his mind with a haze. 

Soon, you were licking his bottom lip, so Jay parted his lips. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, and he touched it with his, once, twice. He ran his tongue over your teeth, probed into your mouth, sucked on your tongue. He wanted to memorize every inch of you. 

Jay felt one of your hands slip under his shirt, and you ran your hands over his abs. He was proud of the hardened muscle he had worked so hard to cultivate, and he could feel his pride slowly returning. Emboldened, he kissed you even more deeply, and he began to feel your breasts over your nightgown. You weren’t wearing a bra, and he could only imagine how soft they must feel properly in his hands. 

“Take it off,” you whispered against his lips. Jay didn’t need to be told twice. He undressed you slowly this time, helping you push the nightgown over your head. 

Jay groaned under his breath as his eyes flickered over your body. It was amazing. You were like Aphrodite, the Venus of Willendorf, a being designed to be admired. How could he have ever thought of thrusting into you like you were his right hand? “Turn the light on,” he said quietly. 

“Yes, sir,” you said, flicking your standing lamp on. Your body was bathed in the soft, rosy glow, painting you in colours that rivaled the work of the pre-Raphaelites. 

“Don’t call me sir,” he said pleadingly. “Call me Jay, please.” With that, he dipped his head down and kissed your neck softly. You whimpered, and the sound was like the song of an angel. He kissed you all the way down to the space between your breasts. One hand gently fondled one breast, and the other hand held your waist as he kissed the other breast. 

“Lick my nipples,” you whispered. “I like that.”

Jay did as you asked, taking one nipple in his mouth and licking it. The way it hardened was fascinating to him, and he lavished both of your nipples with attention. His hands stroked your waist, up and down, and he could feel you tremble. Jay trailed wet kisses down your stomach, sticking his tongue into your navel to make you laugh. He splayed your arms out on the bed and kissed and licked them. When he got to your hand, he kissed your palm  and your fingertips. Jay lifted your legs up and kissed them from your inner thigh to the backs of your calves to your ankles, all the way to your toes. 

You made these darling little sighs as he kissed you and touched you. “This feels great, Jay,” you sighed out. On occasion, you would tell him to pay special attention to a certain part of yourself; your inner thighs, Jay found, were a sensitive spot. He would frequently return there on his journey around your body and bite and suck at the soft flesh there. 

As Jay gripped your thighs, kissing them, you pulled at his hair so that his face was tugged upwards. 

“I want to teach you something else,” you said, looking him in his eyes. 

“What?” Jay whispered.

As a response, you parted your legs slightly. Jay could see pools of arousal leaking out of your pussy, and his cock stirred. You took your fingers and touched a small, pearly nub of flesh. 

“Do you know what this is?”

Jay had a rough idea, based on the conversations he had had with his friends. “Your clitoris?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yes,” you said, your fingers still threaded through his hair. “I want you to lick it.”

“Lick it?”

“It’ll make me feel good,” you whispered, and you gently pushed his head down between your legs. After one tentative lick, Jay was hooked. You tasted amazing, not quite sweet, not salty, but something else. Something primal and delicious. He laved your clit with his tongue, spreading your legs apart even further. 

For the first time, you moaned, a sound that made its way all the way to Jay’s gut. He kept going, lapping at that little pearl with feverish abandon. Jay pulled away after a while, worried that he was going too fast, being too rough again. “Is this okay?” he asked.

Your voice was tense and high as you said, “Yes, you’re doing amazing, Jay. It feels amazing. Keep going, keep going.”

That encouragement was all Jay needed. One hand firmly split your legs apart, and the other reached up and toyed with your nipples again. He felt you writhe and shiver as he swallowed your arousal, making circles with his tongue around your clit. 

“Jay, Jay, I’m going to, I’m going to…” A series of high-pitched moans passed through your lips and your back arched off of the bed. Jay continued licking your clit until you weakly pushed his head away. Jay stared in awe at your cunt opening and closing on its own, and he inserted a finger inside of you to feel the contractions for himself. He shivered as he imagined his cock in here, but he decided to wait until you weren’t so exhausted. 

Jay dragged himself up the bed so that he was lying beside you, and he affectionately rubbed your stomach. Your face was wet with sweat, lips parted, and your eyes were lidded. Still, that same smile was plastered on your face, and Jay wiped your face with his thumb.

“How was that?” he asked, just to hear you praise him.

“It was great,” you said weakly. “It was…wow. You’re a fast learner, aren’t you?”

“Top of my classes,” Jay said with a wide grin. You playfully pushed him, and he kissed your cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t…you know… last.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. It was your first time. No one has a very good first time.”

“Did you?”

“That’s a story for another day,” you said with an eye roll. 

Jay traced your stomach with his hand again, his eyes flickering over you. After a while, he whispered, “Teach me.”

You looked at him. “Teach you…?”

“How to please you. I want you to enjoy it, too. Please?”

You glanced at him, and your eyes were so soft Jay got the sudden urge to cry. “Okay. Come on, sit up.”

Jay sat so that his legs were spread, entrapping you between them. You sat up as well, leaning against the headboard. 

“Your pants…”

“Oh, right.” Jay scrambled to take them off, and his boxers too. His cock flopped out, and he was dismayed to see that it wasn’t completely hard. He glanced at you to gauge your reaction, but your gaze was fixated on his dick. 

“How have you managed to stay a virgin with that?” Your hand rested on his thigh, rubbing up and down.

Jay’s heart swelled with pride. “Oh, well, I’m picky, I suppose. I only like the best of the best.”

You smiled softly, catching the compliment, and then your head bobbed down to his cock. His eyes drank in the sight of your wet little tongue swirling around the tip, your hands massaging his balls. Jay moaned loudly, his arms falling back to hold himself upright. “Oh, will you jack me off, too? Please.”

You obliged him, letting some of your spit trickle down his shaft before massaging it loosely. Jay leaned his head back and moaned loudly. He was so glad you two were in the little servants’ quarters and not the chateau, where the sounds would have echoed. The sloppy noises of your mouth wrapped around his tip and your hands fondling his cock, and his own moans. 

Soon, you were pulling away, and Jay was initially disappointed by the lack of his contact. You wiped your mouth and smiled at him, and his annoyances were forgotten. You shifted backwards so that you were sitting against the headboard again.

“Now,” you whispered, “come here.”

Jay crawled over to you, sitting upright as well. He pulled your legs over his, so that you were straddling him. As he waited for you to keep speaking, he caressed your smooth legs. 

“This time, be slow. You want to feel everything, feel the way I fit around you. Take your time. There’s no rush, Jay.”

He kissed you, then, his hands around your throat. Jay pushed himself inside of you again, this time noting how delicious the stretch was, how your pussy squeezed his cock mercilessly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your lips were still on his. You moaned into each others’ mouths as he bucked his hips against yours. Jay’s hands fell from your neck to your shoulders to your breasts, fondling them slowly. He grew accustomed to this rhythm, of becoming one with you, and it was better than what he could have ever imagined.

Jay gently pulled you on top of him, his back hitting the bed. He thrusted into you slowly, languidly, and you matched his movements. From this position, Jay could swirl his tongue around your nipples again as his hands groped at your ass. He pushed you down on his cock, forcing you to take his full length. Now that your moans were no longer muffled by his lips, they reverberated all over your small room. The air was thick with your scent percolating with Jay’s, your soft moans with his harsh grunts. 

Jay could feel his orgasm approaching, but he resisted the urge to pound into you. Instead, he rolled you over so that he was on top of you again. He pulled out of you and kissed you the way you liked, slowly, tongues meeting, spit dribbling down chins, hot, wet mouths sharing breaths. While you kissed, Jay’s hand worked down your body and he tried to find your clitoris again. Your hand reached out and gently guided him towards your small nub; he rubbed it in steady circles, and he relished in your whimpers. 

“Are you close?” Jay asked before pressing his lips against yours again.

You nodded, unwilling to stop kissing him. 

With that, Jay thrusted inside of you again, his fingers still playing with your clitoris. He felt powerful as he felt your back arch. When he dug his knee up slightly, he could feel your legs begin to tremble. Finally, he let himself go, rutting into you the way he had wanted from the start, his free hand  on your waist. Jay grunted as he approached his high, his eyes shutting in ecstasy. 

You came first, whining his name and clutching him tightly. Your pussy clenched around his cock, and he came with a final, primal grunt, emptying himself in you. 

Jay didn’t want to pull himself out of you. He wanted you to stay full of him, and the way you held him made him think you felt the same way.

Jay kissed your forehead and laid on top of you, stroking your cheek as you came down from your highs together.  The way you nestled your head into his neck made his heart sing, and your scent was even stronger now. He knew that he could never let go of you.

You were his summer girl.

[pnghoon]

a superhero's sweet reward

SIM JAEYUN [제이크] ── 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

୨୧ pairing : !nonidol spidey!ikeu x fem gf!reader ꒰wc : 1.2k꒱

୨୧ genre + content warnings : fluff, humor, skinship, est. relationship, mentions of injuries, kissing, jake's a little goofster, not proofread

୨୧ synopsis : in which spidey!ikeu appears in your room late at night all bruised and hurt, and you help clean him up.

writer's note ─ yall..i'm gonna be completely honest with you..I did not expect all thatt on one of my first ever fics. like I was completely mind blown coming back from work and seeing that it got like 130+ notes. JAW DROPPED. anyways because of all the love on my hoon short story I wanted to spoil yall and give you a spider-verse jaeyun story ;)) this was heavily inspired by spidey-boy by @luvvsim !! I absolutely loveee there work. (like sm.) if you enjoyed reading this, please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

the night in new york city hummed with its usual buzz, but inside your room, there was a sense of peacefulness. despite living in the city that never sleeps, you felt content. lying on your bed, earbuds snugly fit into your ears, lost in the beats of your favorite song—it was the perfect end to your busy nights. little did you know, the real excitement was about to swoop in through your window.

suddenly, as if on cue, a shadow dashed across the room. startled, you pulled out an earbud just as a familiar figure swung in through the window, landing into your comfortable sanctuary with a soft thud. there he was—jake sim: new york's very own spiderman and the graceful title of your boyfriend. you watched as he stood there in all his superhero glory, steadying himself on his feet after a slightly harsh landing.

“hey, cutie. miss me?” he spoke out, wincing a little as he removed his mask, revealing a boyish grin and tousled blonde hair. his face bore a few new bruises, and his suit had seen better days.

“jake, the door is literally unlocked,” you called out, sitting up on your bed as you discarded your earbuds.

“where's the fun in that?” came the muffled reply from your boyfriend as he steadied himself, his suit sporting a few new rips and his face a canvas of small cuts and bruises.

you frowned, scanning the variety of bruises and cuts that painted his face and toned body, gently guiding him to sit on the edge of your bed. “you're hurt.”

“it's just a scratch,” he reassured, trying to sound nonchalant but wincing again as he moved. “besides, i get to see my favorite nurse now.”

you rolled your eyes, fetching the first aid kit from your bathroom cabinet. “very funny, spiderman. now sit still.”

jake obeyed, squirming slightly as he took a seat on your bed and shrugged off his suit. you took in the sight of his bruises and cuts, a mixture of concern filling you. he was always so brave and generous. but right now, he was just your jake, and you were going to make sure he was okay.

“hold still,” you instructed, gently dabbing at a cut on his cheek with antiseptic. he flinched a bit, but his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“ow! are you trying to finish me off, babe?” he joked, his lips quirking up in a grin as he put on an exaggerated show for you.

you rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “oh, hush. maybe if you'd stop getting into trouble, i wouldn't have to play nurse.”

“but..who would keep you company during your lonely nights?” he retorted rather innocently, though his playful grin spoke otherwise.

you smiled, shaking your head. “you know, most boyfriends just text or call. you on the other hand have to swing in through windows.”

he shrugged. “what can i say? i like to make an entrance.”

as you continued to clean and bandage his wounds, a comfortable silence enveloped your new york apartment. the soft hum of the wind, the muffled sound of your music still playing from your phone. it painted an almost soothing picture. well, besides the bruised up and hurt superhero on your bed. you continued to assist his cuts, watching his face contort into a sour look before he quickly recovered.

“so, what exactly did you do today that got you looking like you went ten rounds with a bulldozer?” you question, your brow raising in curiosity.

jake smiled at your light-hearted joke, clearing his throat before speaking again. “just another day in the life, y’know? i saved a kitten from a tree, stopped a bank robbery, and had a very intense conversation with a pigeon. fascinating stuff.”

you snorted, grabbing the box of bandages from your nightstand. “sounds like a regular tuesday.”

“exactly,” he agreed, leaning in as you dabbed at a cut on his forehead, the white cotton ball tinting a shade of red. “that pigeon was surprisingly chatty.”

you shook your head, trying to suppress a laugh as you focused on cleaning his wounds. jake's eyes followed your every move, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“y’know,” he started off. “i think that pigeon had some good advice. he told me i should kiss my girlfriend more often.”

his comment only earned a snicker from you, the cotton ball moving to clean off a particularly nasty cut on his face, watching him wince at the sudden contact.

“ow, ow! careful, doc, i’m delicate!”

“delicate, my foot,” you teased, giving him a mock glare. “you swing from skyscrapers and fight bad guys, but a little antiseptic is too much for ya?”

he laughed, the sound a comforting balm against the night’s weariness. “hey, i have my limits, okay?”

“do you now?” you retorted, your smile growing at his light-hearted banter. another comfortable silence fell once more before you broke it with another question.

“and what other brilliant advice did this know it all pigeon give you, other than kissing his girlfriend more often?”

jake grinned as you brought the topic back up, clearing his throat like he was about to make the most moving declaration. “he said i should cherish every moment, because you never know when your next battle with a supervillain might be.”

“wise pigeon,” you commented, reaching for a bandage. “you're lucky i’m such a good nurse.”

“luckiest guy in the world,” he agreed, his eyes twinkling. “and not just because of your nursing skills.”

“flattery will get you nowhere, sim,” you retorted, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “but it might earn you a kiss once i’m done.”

jake’s face lit up. “in that case, i think i might have another cut you missed."

you look at jake dumbfounded, pausing your movements entirely as you slowly brought your gaze back towards his face, your expression etched with concern. your worriment soon dissipated into thin air as you watched him point to his lips, leaning closer to you.

“right here.”

you rolled your eyes but reluctantly leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. he sighed contentedly with a smile, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer as he relished in the feeling of your plush lips on his very own.

“much better,” he murmured against your lips, pulling away with a lopsided grin.

finishing up the last of his cuts, you leaned back to admire your handiwork. “there. good as new.”

jake flexed his arm, yawning softly before giving you an approving nod. “you’re the best, you know that?”

“of course i do, someone’s gotta keep you in one piece, right?” you said with a grin, playfully nudging him. “now, are you staying for a while, or do you have to rush off and save more damsels in distress?”

he pretended to ponder your question for a moment before suddenly pulling you into his arms. “i think i’ve done enough saving for one night. besides, this damsel is my favorite.”

you rolled your eyes again but couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across your face. “smooth, spidey. real smooth.”

jake’s laughter was contagious, and soon enough you both found yourselves lying on the bed, tangled up in each other arms. the city outside your window buzzed with its usual chaos, but in that moment, all that mattered was the comfort of each other’s company.

“stay with me tonight?” you asked softly, resting your head on his chest.

jake kissed the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “always.” he murmured, and you knew he meant it.

(why am I giggling and smiling so hard rn...)

𝓢igning off... @penghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni

[candycandy00]

Finding Love in a Zombie Apocalypse - A JJK Interactive Romance Fanfic Round 1

Read the details about this event here!

During a zombie apocalypse, you meet a group of seven handsome men. Which one will you choose to be your survival/romantic partner?

Vote for the man you want to be eliminated! The man with the most votes will not be killed off in the story, but he will be removed from all future polls and his branching story will be closed off!

Reminder: Vote for the man you DO NOT want to survive with! You are voting someone OUT!

For the first two rounds, I’m not naming the men. You can probably figure out who is who, but that’s part of the fun! I’m doing it this way to encourage readers to vote based on the scenario rather than just automatically voting out their least fave character.

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

The dead walk! The world has been plunged into a zombie apocalypse, and you’re barely able to flee your home in the city before the place gets completely overrun. You try to survive alone for a couple of weeks, but you realize you can’t make it on your own. You need to find a group, or at least a partner to help you keep watch at night. Because as the panic and chaos set in, humans become as dangerous as the living dead. 

With this in mind, you wander into a tiny abandoned town twenty miles outside the city. You’re hoping to find some supplies to last you until you can find help, so you cautiously walk down the street, a crowbar gripped tightly in your hand. 

You hear them before you see them. A cacophony of groans and growls coming from a nearby alley. You freeze, trying to decide whether to run back the way you came or try to hide in a building. When the first few zombies shamble out of the alley, you no longer have a choice. They’ve seen you, and they’ll pursue you relentlessly. You run to the nearest shop, a boutique with expensive looking dresses on mannequins in the window, and try the door. Locked!

You run to the next building, which seems to be a small post office, but it’s locked too! Panicking, you begin trying every door you come across, but all of them are either locked, or completely shattered to the point that entering would offer no protection at all. 

“Hey! This way!” you hear a voice shout. 

You look up to see a grocery store at the end of the street. You can see a man’s silhouette against the warm light of the store. He’s waving you over, so you make a mad dash for him, the herd of zombies hot on your trail. 

When you’re just a few feet from the door, from safety, you feel a dead, clammy hand on your arm, pulling you back. You scream, trying to jerk free, but a second hand grips your other arm. 

You’re close enough to see the man, see his worried expression. He starts toward you to help, but another, bigger man suddenly runs out of the store. With nothing but his bare hands, he rips the zombies away from you, allowing you to sprint into the store. The two men come in after you and pull the door to the grocery store shut, locking it up tight. 

Once inside, you scan the store. There are five more men here, all incredibly attractive. What did you just wander into?

The men explain that they’re traveling together and decided to stop at this store for a while to rest and stock up on supplies. One of them has worked here before and has a key to the stock room. Some of them seem to know each other better than others, but they all get along well enough from what you can tell. 

They invite you to stay, and you agree, so you go around the store to properly meet each of them.

Man #1: 

The first man you approach is the one who had called out to you and waved you over. He’s sitting on a turned over crate, and beside him is a box holding useful items like flashlights and batteries. He looks up at you when you get close enough. 

“I just wanted to thank you for helping me,” you tell him. 

He gives you a somewhat awkward smile. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to help you when you were grabbed.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it. You were going to help. That’s enough for me. So how long do you guys plan to stay here?”

He glances toward the others. “Hopefully not long. I need to get to the next town quickly. Someone is waiting for me.”

You’re tempted to ask about that, but you don’t want to pry. Still, you can’t help wondering who is waiting for him. Family? A lover? 

“I hope you find them,” you say, and he smiles again. This time it’s a more natural, comfortable smile, and it somehow puts you at ease. 

“If you need anything, feel free to take it. There’s plenty of supplies here.”

You return his genuine smile. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

He gives a friendly wave as you walk away. Before you get too far, he adds, “Let me know if you need help with anything!”

Man #2: 

The next man you approach is the one who ran out and tore the zombies off you. He’s lounging in a plastic pool chair, and you have no idea how it hasn’t already collapsed beneath him. He’s tall, and clearly strong. To be honest, he’s a little intimidating, but you gather your courage and walk over to him. 

“Thank you for helping me,” you say. 

He glances up at you, a small grin on his face. “Don’t worry about it. I was getting bored in here anyway.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. You look down and see a crate full of food on the floor beside him. They’re all non-perishables, smart choices to take. 

“How long have you guys been here?” you ask, trying to make conversation. 

He leans back in the chair, his arms behind his head. “Since yesterday. We’ve been here too long if you ask me.”

“In a hurry to get somewhere?” 

He shrugs. “I just don’t like staying in one place for too long.”

“Aren’t you scared to go back out there? The zombies seem to be growing in numbers,” you say. It’s true that you’ve been seeing more and more lately. 

The man laughs. “I’m not worried about zombies. They go down too easily.”

You give a nervous laugh. He certainly seems capable of fighting off zombies, and his confidence is reassuring. But there’s a certain excitement in his eyes that makes you anxious. So you smile and nod then move on to the next man.

Man #3: 

The third man you approach is speaking to a couple of the others, so you wait patiently for them to finish. The other two walk away to continue whatever they were doing, and you take this chance to say hello. 

His smile is quite charming as he turns to face you. “Hello there. Are you alright? That must have been frightening.”

For a moment, you don’t know what he’s talking about. He’s so good looking that your mind nearly went blank. Then you remember that you were attacked by zombies just a few minutes ago. “Oh, yeah, that was pretty scary. I’ve been in similar situations before though.”

“Really? Well I’m glad you’re safe now,” he says. 

“Thanks,” you tell him. “You guys were lucky to find this place. It’s still well stocked.”

He nods. “As soon as I heard about it, I knew we needed to come here to gather supplies. We’ll have more options later if we have plenty of necessities.”

He seems like a man who likes to plan things out in advance. Definitely a good thing in a world that’s turned to chaos. “Smart move,” you say. 

He smiles again, and for the first time you notice that his smile doesn’t feel totally genuine. “Smart moves are the only way to survive now.”

“You’re right about that,” you say as you wave politely and walk away.

Man #4: 

The next man you decide to speak to is currently standing near the front door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. 

“Are you on watch duty?” you ask him as you step closer to him. 

He looks down at you, because he’s unusually tall. “Yeah. Someone’s gotta do it. Been my turn for the past hour.”

It doesn’t escape your notice that if he’s been on watch for an hour, he probably saw you running toward the store, being chased by zombies. If that’s the case, why wasn’t he the one who called out to you? 

Deciding not to mention that, you decide to try being friendly. “I wouldn’t want to be the zombie trying break into this place, with you standing guard.”

He gives you a hint of a grin, then asks, “Did you come from the city?”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod. 

He hesitates, as if deciding whether to ask his next question or not. Then, in a more quiet voice, asks, “How bad was it?”

Something about his tone feels… sad? You decide to be honest, but gentle. “My little part of the city was overrun. But a lot of people made it out. And there were a lot of places digging in and setting up fortified shelters.”

“I see,” he says, glancing out the glass door. “Guess I’ll check those when I get there.”

“You’re going to the city?” 

“Yep. There’s something I gotta do there.”

You give him what you hope is an encouraging smile. “I hope it works out for you.”

He looks at you again. “Thanks.”

Man #5: 

You find the next man in the hardware aisle. There’s not much left, but he’s got an armload of gray duck tape. 

“Hi there,” you say, smiling when he looks up at you.

He doesn’t return the smile, but he nods to you in acknowledgement. 

You eye the tape. “Something broken?”

“The tape makes for great armor,” he says. “Wrap it around your arms and ankles, zombie teeth have a hard time penetrating it.”

“That’s a good idea,” you tell him, genuinely impressed. Why haven’t you thought of something like that before? 

He hands you a couple of his rolls. “Wrap up before we leave. It might save your life.”

You take them gratefully, deciding he’s a pretty nice guy despite your initial impression. “Thanks. I really appreciate you guys letting me in.”

He finally shows you a subtle smile. “It wouldn’t be right to just leave you out there. If someone has the means to help another person, they should do it.”

“I agree,” you say. “I’m glad there are still other people who feel that way.”

He looks down. “We’re probably in the minority though.”

“I hope not,” you reply, then wave to him as you walk away.

Man #6:

The next man nearly bumps into you as he walks out of the stock room. There’s a shopping basket full of food on his arm. “Oh, sorry,” he says, stopping and looking down at you. 

You dismiss his apology with a smile and a wave of your hand. “Is it alright if I go in?” you ask him. You’ve already been told by someone else to take whatever you want, but you feel the need to ask again now that you’re face to face with someone else as you walk in. 

He smiles in a friendly, easy going way. “Sure. It’s not like we own the store, so take whatever you like!”

“Thanks.”

“Need any help?” he asks, stepping aside to give you room. “Some of the best stuff is on the top shelves.”

You notice that he’s already got quite the load. “That’s okay. I’m sure I can manage. Thanks for offering.”

He smiles again. Somehow it seems to brighten the whole store. “You don’t have to be so polite. We’re just a bunch of random guys.”

“How did you guys meet?” you ask. You’ve been curious about their relationships since you first got here. 

“Some of us have known each other for a long time, but most of us met up at a shelter about thirty miles back.”

You think for a moment about his answer, then ask, “Why leave the shelter?” You had been to one yourself, but you were alone and you got a bad vibe from the men running it so you left after two days. 

His smile falters. “Someone was hiding a bite. They turned, attacked more people who turned and attacked more. The whole place broke down in less than an hour.”

That sounded horrifying. “I’m sorry,” you say, not sure how else to respond to that. 

“Don’t be,” he says, smile back on his face. “We got out, so I’m guessing other people did too. Just have to hold onto hope, you know?”

You return his infectious smile. “Yeah, I know,” you tell him before walking into the stock room.

Man #7:

You find the last man in the stock room, standing in the middle of it, looking over the shelves. There’s a clipboard in his hand with papers attached to it. When he notices you entering the room, he turns to face you. 

“Oh, hello. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, I’m just looking around,” you say. Then your eyes drop to the clipboard. “Taking stock of what’s left?”

“I found this inventory list in here when we first arrived. I was looking it over to make sure we didn’t miss anything useful,” he tells you. 

“Find anything?”

He points to a large, open cardboard box on a shelf. “I didn’t realize a small grocery store would have so many first aid products, so that was a nice surprise.”

“I bet,” you say, scanning the shelves. 

He holds the clipboard out to you. “Would you like to take a look?”

You take it from him. “Thanks,” you say, your eyes moving over the list. As you read over it, you make conversation. “Any idea where you guys are heading?”

“From what I understand, we’re going somewhere more rural, less populated. The plan is to look for somewhere to set up a permanent base.”

You look up. The word “permanent” caught your attention. It’s a word that feels nebulous and unattainable right now. “That sounds nice,” you say. 

He gives you a warm look. “You’re welcome to come with us for as long as you like.”

Something about him makes you feel secure. Maybe it’s because he seems so calm and composed. “I think I’ll tag along for a while,” you tell him. 

He nods. “I look forward to getting to know you.”

Tag List:

@tadabzzzbee

[ihavethedreamies]

In the Doghouse | Yeosang

Kang Yeosang - ATEEZ

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.8k

Pairing: Dog-Hybrid!Yeosang x Cat-Hybrid!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU!, Historical/Period, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Strangers-to-Friends-to-Lovers

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Kitten, Love), Swearing, Kissing, Biting/Marking, Bonding/Mating, Heat/Rut, Pheromones, Oral (F! Receiving), Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…), Breeding Kink (u3u)

Trigger Warning: There is some talk of abuse and/or neglect in this. It doesn't go into detail, but the reader in beginning is living with a cruel relative. It's not related to Yeosang or the relationship between the two. Also, Yeosang is a 'Police Dog', but there is very little talk of police and cops.

Author's Note: This is NOT Omegaverse, but they do both go into rut/heat. They have animals ears and tails and he's got a knotted doggy cock. Yeosang is supposed to be a Doberman, even though the breed wasn't in this time period. This is set in the late Victorian Era of London, and sorry if it's not completely accurate to the time.

I will be doing all the members and uploading them as I go. I normally like to upload a whole series at a time but I'm trying to pack to move.

-> Series Hub <-

🦁 Hongjoong's 🦁

🐻 Jongho's 🐻

🐯 San's 🐯

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

"Geddat fuckin' cat!" You heard the storekeeper’s shout echo through the narrow street as you dashed in the opposite direction. You clutched the bag closer to you, hoping to hide it from prying eyes. You purposefully wrapped your tail around your leg, hoping to make it less obvious, ears flattening to your head to blend in with your hair. Turning a narrow corner into an alley, you heard some footsteps against the cobblestone behind you, but they ran past where you had entered. Leaving the alley into the opposite street, you turned the way you had come, back toward your house. Sliding into another back alley, you placed the strings of the bag in your mouth. Without stopping, you jumped up onto the ladder hanging down from your second-story window. Climbing up the rungs, you pulled the window open all the way and jumped into your bedroom. Unhooking the rope and wood ladder from the windowsill, you reeled it in and shut the window. Panting for breath, you rested against the wall, sliding down so you were sitting on the floor. Heaving for air, you glanced at the bag that you had brought it, laying in a heap on the floor under the window. Finally, when you could breathe easily enough, you got on your knees so you could reach and grab the sack, opening it. Inside, the two loaves of bread were still steaming and your stomach rumbled in desire.

"Man, I wanna fish…" You sniffed in displeasure, tail whipping angrily behind you. It was bad enough you had to steal food to eat, but all you could typically manage was some bread or maybe potatoes. As you stood to close your door so you could enjoy your haul, you heard banging from downstairs. Someone was pounding on the door. You heard your aunt call for the person to hold on and you stood still, staring at the open door of your bedroom. Did they really find you? They never had before…

"Hello, madam. I hate to bother you, but I was told that a thief might have made their way into your second story window." You heard from down the hall, at the base of the stairs. Your eyes widened in panic and you prayed that your aunt would cover for you. Fat chance.

"Second story? You've got to… (Y/N) get down here, right now!" She screeched and your ears flattened at the noise. Stepping forward as quietly as you could, you stuck your head out just enough to look past the door frame to see your aunt standing halfway up the stairs. Her own tail was swinging back and forth with ire and her arms were crossed. The nastiest look you had ever seen was on her face and you clicked your tongue.

"What did you steal this time, you lazy stray!" She hissed and you shuffled out of the room, bag hanging limply from your hand at your side. There was a man in a police uniform in the doorway, and next to him…A dog hybrid. He was…beautiful, honestly. Prettier than you for sure. His hair was longer, with a slight wave at the end of the black strands, two tall, pointed ears sticking out from the top of his head. You couldn't see a tail, so it was probably docked into a nub. The hairs at the back of your neck and base of your tail rose, shoulders tensing as you got to the top of the staircase. His sharp eyes met yours, and you knew that's how they found you. Fucking police dogs…

"Give me that!" Your aunt swiped the bag from you, her claw-like nails scratching your hands, making you pull them back. Holding your other hand over the red marks, you glared hard at her when she opened the sack.

"Bread?! You stole bread?!" She hissed, fierce eyes searing holes into your skull.

"Maybe if you didn't fuckin' starve me, I wudduna had ta'!" You hissed back and you flinched as you saw her raise her hand.

"Now, madam, it’s nothing to harm her over. We'll take her to the station." A smooth, deep voice prompted you to open your eyes, seeing the guard dog holding the wrist of your nasty aunt. His grip was loose, so as not to dig his thick claws into your aunt's skin. He should have though… Your aunt took her arm away from him when he let her go and you were more willing to go with him then stay there any longer. Honestly, jail would be a welcome change. You followed the dog down the stairs and your aunt went as well, handing the stolen loaves to the human officer. With a strong hand on your bicep, the police dog led you further down the street, his partner following.

"Did you really steal because she starves you?" The elder officer asked you, his tone gentler than you expected. Your aunt wasn't poor, by any means, but you lived in what was equivalent to a storage room.

"I get a potato every other day if I don't." Your tail flicked nervously, ear flicking when a drop of water hit it. Glancing up at the sky, you sneered at the gathering clouds, feeling another drop land on your face. You wiggled your nose, feeling the drop most likely wash a trail of dirt off your face.

"She doesn't feed you any meat?" The dog furrowed his brow, letting you go, eyes zigzagging over you. It was evident your clothes were somehow too big and too small at the same time, and your boots were old.

"Alley bastards don't deserve meat." You spat out the words you were so used to hearing. It wasn't your fault that your mother slept with a commoner, but your aunt and grandparents took it out on you. The only reason your mother's sister took you in was because she got a tax cut for listing you as living with her.

"How old are you, Miss (Y/N)?" The human officer asked.

"Twenty…somethin'…" You weren't for sure, never celebrated your birthday.

"I think the baker will be willing to forgive if we return the bread. Yeosang?" The officer looked at the dog and you did as well.

"The poverty shelter doesn't take cats, does it? Just dogs?"

"Yessir." The dog, Yeosang, sighed, glancing back to you. The rain seemed to be waiting as well, only a few drops falling as you looked nervously between the two men. What were they going to do with you?

"She could stay with me, if that is alright with her." Yeosang cast you a look, his gaze warm and you blinked in shock. Charity? Wow, you had heard of it before…

"Any where’s better than auntie's…" Your tail was still whipping and the elder officer nodded with a hum.

"Thank you, son. You may get off your shift early. Make sure she gets a good hot meal." The human smiled warmly himself and headed off toward the bakery, bread bag in hand.

"Are ya sure? I'm notta hassle?"

"No, kitten. Let's get you some meat." The hand that had been on your arm went to your upper back so he could pull you to walk next to him, then he led you presumably to his home. Right as you got under the awning over his front door, the rain started to pour.

***

"Slow down, love. There's plenty." The dog was way gentler with you than you expected. His home was nice and warm, cozy, and smelled good. He had presented you with bread that he had bought the day before, as well as some cured meats, cheese, even some fruit. Not sure where to start, you reached carefully for a slice of summer sausage and then your vision went red, your appetite raring to full force. Yeosang huffed in amusement, able to hear the rapid purr you let out as you ate. When he had removed his uniform coat, he just had on a thin white button up underneath. The shirt did very little to hide the obvious muscle underneath, the buttons struggling to hold still over his chest. As you had started to eat, he rolled the sleeves up to above his elbow, showing toned forearms. He ate more leisurely, and once you were no longer ravenous, you slowed your pace. You took each chance you got to look over him, he was absolutely stunning.

"Yer' from the far east, yah?" You asked around a mouthful of different things you had just shoved in. He hummed with a nod and your eyes flicked to the water ewer he had set on the table and he poured some into a stein. Eagerly taking the drink, you chugged it down, a little bit of the water dripping past your bottom lip. Letting you a groaning exhale after you had gotten everything down, you slumped in your chair. You hadn't felt so full in so long and you weren't expecting to get a nice meal when you stole the bread.

"Are ya' like…a saint or somethin?" You asked, not sure why he would help you.

"Pardon me?"

"You know, like those folks in the Bible that help…saints or whatever…" Your nail clicked against the glass cup you were holding. You weren't very educated, but you tried to retain what little bit of information you had learned.

"Oh, um, no. I think I would just qualify as generous." He smiled bashfully and you let out an 'ah' in realization.

"Thanks for the meal…I um, I don't want to go home but…"

"You don't have to go back there, kitten." The dog smiled, his own pointed ear drooping a bit along with his pitying gaze. Normally that look pissed you off, but you just felt bashful then.

"Do you have somewhere I can go, then?"

"I told you; you can stay here. I have a spare room anyway. It's hard for women to find work, harder yet for a cat hybrid…" He paused to think it seemed.

"I-I can clean! Or, uh…well, I'm good at physical stuff, I can run…places." You weren't sure what else specifically you could do, your only 'skill' was cleaning. Or stealing.

"If you want to help with housekeeping, that's up to you. I am more worried how people might see a man and woman living together outside of marriage." The dog grimaced a bit.

"Oh. Right." You hadn't thought about that… It was one thing for normal everyday people, but he was a public officer.

"What if ya’ hire me? As yer' official housekeep? That wouldn't look suspect, yeah?" You offered.

"That would probably work. For now. Here." He stood up, motioning for you to follow him. You did so, going toward the narrow front entryway and then up the steep stairs to his second floor. There was a room to the left, but he let you into the one on the right, the door right on the landing. It was pretty bare, and to most, small. However, it was way bigger than where you had been before and had a real bed.

"I-I can really stay here?" You felt your throat tighten, stepping further in.

"Of course, love. Tomorrow we can figure out the details, why don't you get some sleep?" You turned back to look at him, that warm and sincere smile still present. Overcome with emotion, you pounced forward, wrapping your arms around his toned middle, cheek to his chest.

"Thank you, Yeosang!" You sniffed, trying not to bawl. He rested his hand on your head, thumb rubbing the back of your ear.

"You're welcome, (Y/N)."

~*~*~

Over the next two months, you lived the best days of your life. Yeosang had commented that his house had never looked so clean, even though it wasn't messy before. After the third day there, and you had thrown up from overeating, you paced yourself more. Finally, you were used to being well fed, and you no longer looked like you were actually starving. The second week you were there, he had taken you to a tailor and bought you two new outfits, ones that actually fit. You preferred the simple shirt and pants, but he also got you a simple dress that was a soft blue. You cried. You had been crying a lot, so touched by how sweet he was being.

One day, you were in the market to buy a few things. No one that you had stolen from in the past knew it was you. Combined with being healthy and clean, you were also in a nice dress and your hair was done.

"(Y/N)!?" The voice made you stop cold, hand still reaching for a squash on the seller's stall table. Your aunt.

"You stupid twat!" She screeched and before you registered where she was, her hand was in your hair, claws scratching your scalp. You yowled, dropping your basket, potatoes and apples rolling away. People gasped, turning to watch the fight, but not stepping in to help.

"I've had to pay more than ever now that you left! I had to pay a bloody fine as well, endangering a ward or something! You little whore! I know you're living with a man not your husband! What would your mother think, you raising your tail for a dog?!" She was screaming, hissing and spitting. You tried to get her to let you go, but not wanting to fight and ruin your dress. You knew the words she was speaking weren't true, but the people around didn't, and you didn't want the negative gossip to get back to Yeosang. When a blowing whistle hit your ears, you mewled in relief, rapid footsteps nearing. The horrible woman was pulled away from you, and you slumped into a pile, holding your head.

"(Y/N), are you okay, love?" Yeosang was quick to your side, looking over your head. A growl was rumbling in his chest as he shot a searing glare at the other woman. You didn't look up to see who the other officers were subduing her, burying your head in Yeosang's chest to hide.

"Oh, kitten." He whined, holding you to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he easily lifted you, carrying you toward home, ignoring the stares and whispers.

As you sat on the table, he dabbed at the scratches with a cloth dipped in alcohol, the disinfectant stinging. You winced again and he apologized, trying to be gentle.

"Did you hear what she said?" you whispered. Your eyes were glossing over the bottle next to you, brain trying to process the letters you saw. Yeosang had been teaching you, but you could only read the big word, 'VODKA'.

"It's not true, so it doesn't matter." he whispered back.

"Maybe…I should leave?" Your voice cracked, really not wanting to follow through with the suggestion. The cloth on your head left and he stepped back, hand on your chin to tilt your head back. He looked over your face, noticing your red blotchy cheeks and glossy eyes.

"Why?"

"Because…what if it comes back and hurts you…?" You sniffed, trying to avoid his eyes. His hand left your chin, but then both went to cup your cheeks.

"(Y/N), kitten, I would be heartbroken if you left." The dog's deep voice was so warm, soft, like his hugs.

"Yeah?" He wiped a tear away from your eye and smiled, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours.

"Yes. If you're so worried…" He drifted off, one hand leaving your jaw to take yours.

"What if we get married?" He finished and it was like time stopped. Your ears started to ring and you slowly lifted your head back up to look him in the eye again.

"What?" Your voice was so soft that if he wasn't a dog or another hybrid, he probably wouldn't have heard.

"(Y/N), I know it's only been a couple months, but I've fallen in love with you. I want you to stay with me." He brought your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. You burst into tears then, crying hard, harder than you had before, babbling nonsense.

"I-I-I want to stay too!" You cried and he pulled you into his chest, thumb rubbing the back of your ear.

"Then?"

"I wanna be your wife." You mumbled, sniffing hard so you didn't drip snot on his uniform shirt.

The next few minutes were nearly a blur, your mind finally caught up as your back hit his bed, his lips fervently pressing to yours. His breath was heaving, chest rumbling and his sandalwood and rosewater scent was growing stronger. You felt like he was going to swallow you whole, and you wondered why it was said cats and dogs didn't get along. You had never felt so loved unconditionally and wholly but by Yeosang, a dog, despite that you were a cat. An alley cat at that. In that moment though, you truly saw him as a big, strong working dog, easily surrounding the little stray cat that had been taken into his home. But instead of growling and scaring the little kitty, the big pup had laid down and wrapped around the small cat, protecting and loving her.

"Your tongue's rough." He huffed in amusement, only pulling back a second before his mouth sealed back to yours, tongue wrapping around your smaller one. You whimpered and mewled, head growing hazy from his kisses. Your back arched as his mouth left yours, trailing to your jaw and down to your neck. As he unbuttoned your dress, he licked and sucked over the skin revealed, tugging at the fabric to get it over your breasts so he could shuck it off. The dress floated down to the floor behind him, settling on the floor with a flutter. Once you were down to your undergarments, nothing more than a thin chemise and light set of stays, he sat up to kneel over you. He had luckily taken his uniform jacket off earlier, because in his haste to remove his shirt, two of the buttons flew off, clattering against the wood floor. You had seen him shirtless before, but never had the chance to touch, so you had to take the chance. Yeosang chuckled, his ears drooping a bit in pleasure as your small, warm hands ran over the smooth skin of his chest and stomach. He really was physical perfection. Biting your lip, your hands went to work on his belt and he took the chance to untie your stays. You felt a little more air flow easier threw your lungs as he pulled the garment off and you squeaked as he moved. Quickly, so quickly, he pulled your chemise off as well, leaving you bare, and essentially picked you up and tossed you back up the bed. As you tried to get your bearings, you didn’t notice him resting his stomach on the bed.

“Y-Yeosang!” Your nails dug fast into the sheets as his long tongue lapped a path through your slit. A growl rumbled from him and his hands held your thighs apart so he could slide his tongue into your cunt, the feeling made you twitch and shiver. He was breathing so hard through his nose you felt the puffs of air against your clit, tail flicking against the bed. Something was rising fast in your tummy, and he could feel your gummy walls clench unevenly around his tongue. The dog’s nose bumped your clit once more and you nearly squealed as your orgasm hit. He eagerly drank up the slick that flowed from you, licking his chops as he pulled away once you were done. He smiled down at you, softly, admiring your red face and heaving chest. Before you could really come to reality, he had flipped you onto your stomach. There was some rustling, and you had been too busy trying to register what had just happened, the next thing you knew, his bare body was laying over yours. He didn't rest down too hard, he was bigger and heavier, but you shivered at his skin on yours, hard chest to your back. You shivered as his hard cock nestled in the crook your ass.

"Big as my fuckin' arm…" You huffed to yourself and he chuckled, biting his lip, chest rumbling.

"Think your sweet cunt can take it?" His deep voice right in your ear was in itself orgasmic and your core was rapidly heating. You were pretty sure you hadn't had a heat in so long from being in poor health, and so it seemed your system needed to compensate. Your whole body was rapidly rising in temperature, he could tell from where his skin pressed to yours. The delightful scent of vanilla and lavender you normally exuded was growing stronger, the aroma filling his lungs. You whimpered when his strong arm wrapped under your stomach, lifting your hips into the air as he grinded his cock against your weeping folds. He wasn't normally one for crass language like you, but he was spewing sweet filth as you tried to formulate a thought to respond. The heat was nearly growing painful, and even though he was huge and you inexperienced, you needed him inside.

"Such a pretty pussy, kitten. Bet it's leaking so much to let me in. Take my cock and my knot." He groaned when he ran his thumb up your slit, gathering your slick that was nearly dripping from your core.

"Want me to ruin your cunt, love? Split you open, fuck you silly, then pump you full. I wonder if a kitty can even get pregnant by a dog. Guess we'll find out…" It seemed your heat was sending him into a semi-rut, his mind was full of nothing but sinking into you and fucking you into the mattress. He had honestly wanted to for weeks but had tried to keep the thoughts away.

"Y-Yeosang! Please!" You mewled, nails digging into his pillow, tail flailing back and forth. You yowled when his strong hand grabbed your tail at the base, wrapping some of the length around his fist, tugging on it. He smirked as your cunt let out another glob of slick from the sensation, your rapid purr growing in strength.

"Not just my wife, but my mate. Want your womb to hold my pups." The male chuckled, adjusting to press the fat head of his leaking cock against your core. You shivered, a bit worried he was too big, but you needed him. And his knot.

"Hold on, kitten." He licked his lips to prevent the saliva that had gathered from leaking, holding the base of your tail and hip for leverage. Your breath hitched, cunt spasming as he started to press in. He watched in delight as your folds eagerly stretched and sucked his cock in, even more slick spilling out, leaving a puddle on his bed. The base of his cock had already started to swell a bit, but he wasn't going to knot you so soon. No, he was going to have his way with you for a good long while first.

"Fuck!" You squealed, claws puncturing his bedding, teeth digging into the pillow. His hot cock was searing through you, the burn of the stretch just fueling the fire in your womb further. Tears sprung to your eyes and you gasped for air, intense waves of pleasure crashing over you, sending you to climax before he was even halfway in. Yeosang felt your gummy walls clench and pulse around him, and he threw his head back, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he groaned. The grip on your tail tightened just a bit and you keened at his slow ease, but his restraint was wavering.

"J-just do it, 'Sang~" You mewled, sparks of arousal shooting up your spine from your tail. He didn't hesitate with your consent, and he snapped his hips to bury the last few inches into your hot vice. Your vision spotted as the head of his dick pressed at your womb, hips pressed to your backside. He sat there for a bit, letting you get used to the searing pleasure, grinding down into you every so often. As he heard your breathing even out a bit more, you let out a big shudder and he released your tail, falling forward so his hands caught him on the bed. The dog let out a small whimper, furrowing his brow. A clawed hand went to your sternum and he helped you hold yourself up on your arms so your back was parallel to his chest. His nose ran over your shoulder, right new to your neck and your body tensed in preparation, your cunt tightening even further. With a little lick, his teeth dug into your skin, and he sucked and licked as he bit, sealing you as his mate. Your eyes rolled back into your head, most of your strength leaving you as you came again, spurts of slick drenching his groin and balls. Pulling back from the mark, he licked the blood away and you fell onto your chest, using what little strength you had left to grip the already torn sheets.

"Ready?" He didn't wait for your response, slowly puling his hips back, cock halfway in, then fucked back into you. You yelped, his rapid and hard pace was immediate, no build up, and your brain ended up as fucked as your cunt. You were babbling and mewling, tail thrashing before he gripped it once more, holding your hips still as his battered against your ass. His free hand snaked down to your stomach, and he groaned at the shallow bulge that would form each time he buried to the hilt, your tiny body straining to take him. You bit the pillow again, using it to muffle your scream as he plowed through another one of your orgasms. His thrusts grew shallower, burying deep each time and fucking back in just by an inch, hard and grinding. Your eyes crossed when the base of your core started to burn once more, pussy searing as his knot started to swell. He whimpered between grunts and growls, head thrown back, sweat slick black strands tickling his upper back.

"I'm going to breed you, kitten. Fill you with my seed till you have my pups. Even if it takes all night." He groaned as your cunt fluttered once more and he gave one more hard thrust, letting his knot swell. You gasped and heaved at the feeling; he hadn't even begun to cum yet. When the hot spurts started to fill you, flooding your weeping womb, you nearly passed out. The sticky fluid dowsed the fire that your body had set and his hips jolted with each squirt, pressing as deep as he could. As the waves of his orgasm faded, he let your tail go, falling forward once more, heaving for breath himself. You were breathing heavily, but otherwise quiet and he glanced down to look at your face. You were still conscious, barely, eyes staring blankly at the wall, tears drying on your cheek and drool had left a dark spot under your mouth. Gently, so much so compared to his rough fucking, he pet your hair, pulling a few strands away from your sweaty brow.

"I love you, (Y/N)." He whispered and he noticed your lips quirk gently into a small smile.

"Love you too~"

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