#this one's been a long time in the planning and a day in the making so ayyy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cloudedangels · 3 days ago

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Dr’s Orders 18+

⋆⁺₊❅。

You (f reader) are ovulating, but you can't bring yourself to request what you really need… Dr. Zayne has a treatment plan for that... luckily! ● ≈4,025 words ughggh ● probably needs proofreading ● adult!!! ● mdni!!!

Tags and cw: ovulation!: the plot device, zayne, dr zayne cures you of your horny disease kinda, piv, oral (f receiving), mostly sex no plot, in the hospital of all places!, creampie, multiple rounds, fingering, established relationship implied, self indulgent smut— you know the drill

a/n: this SUCKED to write omg omg im freee you can probably tell my sauce was running out... this mostly SUCKED to write bc I am on my period a week and a half early (???) & I have 1 endometriosis (,: this is also my first time writing zayne which i hope gets better bc he's my pretty lil baby, I need him [redacted].

Go bunnie.

▪︎ next up:

☆caleb's very late birthday fic

☆extended leave pt six

☆hubby!zayne drabble

vibrator series pt 3 and pt 4

⋆⁺₊❅。

⋆⁺₊❅。⋆⁺₊❅。⋆⁺₊❅。⋆⁺₊❅。

Zayne isn’t blind.

He sees the way your legs cross tighter than usual, the way your hand lingers too long on the hem of your sleeve, picking at threads like you're trying not to crawl out of your skin.

You’d stared at the closed door to his office ten times today. Every time you almost knocked, your throat had closed up. Your fingers fiddle with the edge of your sleeve again, tugging it just a little too hard until it bunches in your palm. The scent of antiseptic clings to the air, mixing with your own faint perfume, and it makes your stomach twist like a knot you can’t undo.

You'll just sit in his office and wait for him to get off as always.

And... when you see him, you're all off.

Zayne however… he knows exactly what day it is. Five days post-period. Right on schedule. He does the math in his head because, well, of course he does. He’s a surgeon. He keeps track of things.

He doesn’t mention it, not aloud. He just watches you try to wrestle yourself into stillness like you're trying to outwit your own body. He can feel it in the air—how needy you are, how tightly wound. You think you're subtle, but Zayne knows tension better than most. He lives in it and operates through it. And you're practically vibrating with it. The sterile, slightly cold office smells faintly of antiseptic and leather. Outside, the dull hum of hospital noises lingers beyond the closed door.

You won’t ask him. Not directly. Maybe you think you’re being polite. Maybe you're afraid he’ll be embarrassed. But he’s not the one squirming in a rolling chair in his office, trying to fight biology and failing.

Still, you don’t ask. You want to ask, but your voice feels small, unsure. You’ve always tried not to be a bother, this relationship is only recently sexual... but now, not asking feels like self-denial. But you can't.

So he shifts his strategy. If you won't ask him, shouldn't he ask you for a favor? That'd work wouldn't it?

He’s quiet for too long. Not in the usual way. In the way that makes your stomach twist. He’s calculating something, staring at your lips like they hold some equation he hasn’t quite solved. You feel it before he speaks—something shifting in him. Something about to snap loose? He flushes as he turns to you, words falling out like dominos.

“I need to finger you.”

His words hang in the air, clinical but sudden... like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. His jaw's tightening briefly, a twitch of the muscle betraying the calm he’s trying to maintain. His eyes flicker down to your lips like he’s memorizing their shape… a calculation paused mid-equation.

You blink. “What?”

Your heart hammers a little faster. You want to protest, but your throat feels dry and thick, and your body answers before your brain can catch up. There's heat pooling low and insistent.

Zayne clears his throat lightly, deadpan as ever. “Desperately. I'm, ah—struggling. It’s been difficult to focus. All I can think about is the sound you make when you come. So.” He tilts his head slightly. “This is for medical reasons. Mine. Urgent.”

You're trying to make sense of this, he's usually so much more put together than this… you're so horny you don't want to deny him but… You’ve never heard him stumble like this—not even when talking you through surgical risks or listing medications. Zayne is precision incarnate. So when his voice falters, it knocks the air out of you.

“I mean… if you want, I could give you—”

“No.” He cuts you off, eyes narrowing slightly. The room seems to shrink around you. The hum of the fluorescent light overhead blurs into a steady drone as your pulse hammers in your ears. His steady gaze pins you in place, and your breath catches.

“I’m not joking. The only thing that's going to help me is your thighs on my shoulders and my fingers inside you. Repeatedly. I need to make you come, and I need to taste you while I do it. That’s the only thing that’s going to help.”

You stare at him, throat dry. “You... need... that.”

“Yes,” he says, perfectly serious. “Badly. Like, clinically.”

A beat passes. Then another.

“You’re—” you try to say something clever, but it falls flat against the heat surging in your gut.

“I’m what?” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Depraved? Professional? Pathetic?”

You whisper, “Perfect.”

Zayne exhales once through his nose, the closest he gets to smiling when he’s trying not to lose composure. There’s a twitch in the corner of his mouth, and his hand comes up—Hesitant and precise, it brushes your cheek.

“So it’s alright, then?” he says, voice softer now. “If I... lose control. Just a little… With you...”

You nod before he even finishes the sentence.

And just like that, your quiet, unbearable need—masked in silence and polite restraint—crashes into his own. His eyes flicker with something unreadable—pain, longing, something deeper. For a moment, neither of you move. Then, slow and deliberate, his fingers curl around your wrist, pulling you closer. The sharp tang of antiseptic mingles with the warm, powdery scent of his cologne, a strange but intoxicating combination that makes your breath hitch.

His lips press into yours soft and patient, and with the easy state you're in, you're already letting out a soft whimper when he kisses you with such gentleness... touches you with such wanting. You're caving into him as he pulls back, begging silently for more of his lips and the powdery scent of his cologne.

He sinks to his knees, not because you asked, but because he did. Thank God.

You’re still blinking down at him, standing with your breath shallowed, as if waiting for him to laugh and walk out. But he doesn’t. He just reaches—fingers confident, deliberate—and taps once against your knee.

“Up,” he says softly. “Come on. Be good for me. Legs over the exam table.”

You obey because you always do. But also because the way he looks at you—precise, studied, patient—makes disobedience feel impossible. Punishable, even. You scoot back on the padded surface, letting your legs fall apart, and you swear his pupils dilate just slightly.

The paper beneath your thighs crinkles loudly—embarrassingly—like it dislikes what you’re doing. The scent of antiseptic cuts through the heat in your blood. Even your shirt feels too tight, too rough. The overhead lights hum, too bright, too sterile. You feel exposed and examined. Everything feels like too much… except him.

He hums. It’s not amusement, not quite. It’s approval.

“Perfect positioning. Should’ve let me do this days ago. You’re—” He clicks his tongue once. “Edging into clinical negligence, keeping me from a treatment this vital.”

His hands are warm. Sterile. Methodical. He touches you like he’s mapping nerve endings. His thumbs press into the crease of your thighs, spreading you further. He studies you like you’re a case study, a problem he already knows how to solve but enjoys solving again anyway.

You're shaking. “And this… is... for you?” You mutter, a whisper of disbelief mixed with pleasure.

“Yes. Yes, and I want you to know,” he murmurs as he leans in, “that I’m not improvising. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Thoroughly.”

Then he licks. Just once—slow, flat-tongued, exploratory. You jerk. He doesn’t flinch. Just shifts closer.

“Mhm,” he murmurs clinically, like he’s tasting for acidity in a dish. “As suspected.”

Another swipe. This time more pressure, more purpose. His hands keep you open, one sliding up to rest gently over your abdomen, steadying you. He moans low in his throat—not theatrical, not showy. A slip of sound, as if he forgot he could be heard.

“You’re already so sensitive,” he mutters, kissing you now, more deliberately. “This’ll take a while. Let me work. I will get everything I need from you soon enough.”

His tongue moves in slow, studied patterns. Up. Down. Spiral. Pause. A flick. A suck. He’s collecting data—what makes you twitch, what makes you sigh, what makes you gasp and grab at the table’s edges. Every time you make a sound, he shifts technique slightly. Filing it away. Adjusting. Repeating.

He doesn’t speak much. When he does, it’s all under his breath—clinical, praising, a little condescending, always devoted.

“There you go. That’s it.”

“More of that, Yes?”

“Don’t hold your breath so much. Let it happen.”

When you finally whimper out a guttural, cracked open sound, he looks up. His lips and chin glisten as he simply says, “Good. That’s one.”

As if you’re just getting started. (Because you are.) He doesn’t let up. Not even close.

He pushes in slow, deliberate. Controlled. Like he’s watching a monitor for vitals, measuring every reaction, every tremor in your body.

You gasp, nails curling against the padded table. He groans softly—a man adjusting to pressure, to heat, to you.

“God,” you whisper, already clenching. “I needed this. I—fuck, Zayne, I needed this so bad—”

“I can tell,” he murmurs, calm as ever, even as his hips settle flush against yours. “Should’ve said something sooner.”

You moan, full of frustration and want and something dangerously close to tears.

“I couldn’t. I didn’t wanna be—” You break off, panting. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

He stills inside you. Eyes sharp. Lips parted. And then he exhales—long and quiet, like he’s biting back some deeper emotion. Maybe regret. Maybe guilt.

“You’re not a bother,” he says, low. “You never are.”

His hips roll just slightly, testing, coaxing, sending heat racing up your spine.

“If anything...” His hand slides up your side, over your ribs, soothing, grounding. “I should’ve made time for this earlier. This…” he thrusts a little deeper, “...this seems like an urgent need.”

You whimper under him. “Zayne, I—fuck, I want—”

“What do you want?”

Your face burns. Your voice shakes. But you can’t keep it in anymore.

“I want you… you to breed me... please.”

The silence after is thick.

He’s still.

Something unravels in his expression then. It’s not just arousal—it’s longing. A wish he hadn’t let himself form until you gave it voice, like he almost wants your regret. But he nods, like that need—raw, hormonal, messy—isn’t foreign to him. Like it’s the same one clawing up his own spine.

Then, slowly—gently—he fucks into you harder. Once. Twice.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “That’s what this is about...”

You’re babbling now, eyes glassy, breath hitching.

“I—I want it. I want to feel full, I want you to come inside, I want to know it’s yours—even if it’s stupid, even if it’s just my body wanting—I don’t care, I need it, please—”

Zayne brushes a hand over your cheek, thumb catching your tears before they can fall.

“It’s not stupid.”

His voice is calm. Assured. Loving in a way that makes your chest ache.

“You’re ovulating. Your hormones are spiking. Your body’s wired for this. And you’re safe with me.”

He leans over you, mouth brushing your ear.

“Anything you ever need,” he murmurs, voice rough now, strained with emotion and restraint, “you can ask me for it. Anything.”

He pulls almost all the way out, then pushes in deep—slow, worshipping.

“Especially this.”

You cry out for him again, voice cracking, and he just keeps moving, steady and full, fucking you like it’s a promise. His body warm, his voice steady, his heart loud in your ear.

“You feel so good… you wanna be bred, my love?” he whispers. “I’ll give you everything. Fill you up so deep your body won’t know anything else but mine. I like being the only one… who can fix this… problem for you.”

That's spins you undone, and when you come again—hard, sobbing his name, clenching around him like your body’s trying to keep him inside—he follows: gasping once, then going silent as he spills into you, deep and long, trembling.

Helping.

Fixing the problem.

He stays inside you for a while. Long enough that the tremble in your thighs evens out, that the ache in your belly softens from frantic to full. His hand is on your hip, steady, his breath slowing against your neck. You feel him soften inside you, but he doesn’t move to pull out, he just wraps his hand around your thigh, thumb tracing light circles. It’s as if he is still measuring your pulse through your skin.

You’re dazed. Fucked open and flushed and barely remembering where you are. He presses a kiss just below your ear. Quiet and close.

“Still with me?” he murmurs, one hand stroking your thigh like he’s grounding both of you. “Let me know if you’re dizzy. I got you.”

You nod, finally feeling like you can think with more than that warm beat between your thighs.

“…Fixed it,” he murmurs after a moment.

You let out a small, breathless laugh. “That was your treatment plan?”

“Highly effective,” he says, deadpan. “Minimal side effects. Patient satisfaction… presumed high.”

You hum and blink up at him, lips still parted. He’s looking at you, really looking, and not in the way doctors are trained to. There’s nothing detached about it now.

Then, with that surgeon’s steadiness, he pulls out slowly—so careful it makes you ache all over again—and reaches for the drawer on the wall behind you. Pulls out a warm towel like this is just another cleanup post-op.

You twitch when he touches you. Sensitive. Spent. He murmurs a soft apology, even as his hands stay precise, wiping you clean with unhurried tenderness.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you whisper.

He glances at you. “You didn’t ask. So I had to improvise.”

You smile faintly. “You’re not mad I didn’t say anything?”

He tosses the towel aside. “I’m not mad.”

Then, more softly:

“However…I just wish you trusted me to help you. Even with this. Especially with this.”

His hand brushes your thigh again, this time more to comfort than assess. “You never have to handle it alone.”

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly thick.

“I didn’t know how,” you say.

“I’ll teach you,” Zayne murmurs. “Next time, say what you need. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you. Maybe not of everything but… what I can.”

You nod, quiet.

Then he leans in again, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. A prescription written into the touch of your skin.

And beneath it all, his voice—calm, knowing, clinical as ever:

“This appointment is incomplete, but before I continue, let's plan? Follow-up appointment… same time next cycle?”

He’s hardening again, the heat of him pressing against you, but his lips stay impossibly soft where they meet your skin. His fingers glide over you with such careful tenderness it almost aches, like he’s afraid to break something fragile inside you. His breath stutters in his throat, and when he finally looks up at you, his eyes are full of something quiet, something desperate.

“What do you want?” he asks, voice low and steady, his fingers curling around yours as if to anchor your body to him.

You swallow, heart pounding in your chest, the moment making your voice shaky. “Please… don’t stop. Not yet. Let me have this—let me have you—while you’re here, before you go back to work... before the surgeries take you away again.”

He nods slowly, swallowing hard, as if hearing that pulls something out of him. You’re full of his cum, in his office, and yet still... you want more.

“I want to care for you,” he says softly, almost like a prayer. “Let me take care of you—let me make you feel okay…”

Your breath catches, your eyes stinging. There's something in his voice—something soft, like you're worshipped. It undoes you. You nod, too overcome to speak, and he leans in to kiss you again, slower this time. A worshipful kind of kiss, one that tells you that he means it. All of it.

His hand slides between your legs, gentle, deliberate. He murmurs something you don’t catch against your cheek, and then his fingers are inside you—slow, coaxing, curling just right—and the stretch pulls a gasp from your throat.

“You’re still so wet,” he whispers, half in awe. “Still so full of my seed… and you want more?”

You whimper, your head tipping back against the couch. The way he touches you now feels different—like it’s not just about pleasure anymore, but about memory. Preservation.

“I don’t wanna forget how you feel,” he says, thumb brushing over your clit in slow, hypnotic circles. Your hips twitch under his hand, overwhelmed by the desire he builds in you. It's all too much—his voice, his touch, the heat of his body wrapped around yours—but you don’t want him to stop. God, you never want him to stop.

“I won’t let you,” you breathe. “I’ll remember for both of us.”

His mouth is on you again, but not your lips this time—his head drops lower, kissing a trail down your sternum, your stomach, until he’s kneeling between your legs.

“I want to taste you,” he says, voice rough with need. “Let me show you how good you are. How much I want you…You're doing me a favor really…”

He slips his fingers deeper, slow, deliberate, curling gently as he watches your breath hitch. You’re trembling under his touch, the way you’re spread out like a secret made just for him. His mouth moves close, breath hot against your skin.

“You’re the softest, sweetest flower,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with something between awe and need. “And I’m the luckiest man, right here, right now.”

His fingers flex inside you, teasing the spots that make you catch your breath and squeeze your thighs tight. Even after he’s already filled you once, the way he strokes and presses—there’s no doubt his desire is just as alive as yours, hungry and aching. He’s hard beneath you, the heat pressing close as he lets you feel it, a teasing promise of everything he wants.

“I told you it was for me,” he breathes, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “But really... this? It’s for both of us.” His hips shift, grinding slowly against you, the movement sending a new wave of fire through your body.

He leans down, mouth tracing a slow, burning path from your collarbone to your shoulder, lips parting just to whisper, “You make me need you. God, you make me need you so bad.”

His hands tighten around your hips as he pulls you just a little closer, filling the space between you with a quiet, fierce hunger. His fingers don’t stop, circling, curling, coaxing your body to respond again and again.

“Keep still for me,” he commands softly, voice rough like he’s holding back something fierce. “You’re mine right now. Every sigh, every shiver... it’s mine to take… I will be… your medicine…”

You’re gasping by the time he lowers his head again, mouth capturing yours in a deep, consuming kiss, and the taste of him—wanting, claiming—makes you lose the last grip you had on control.

His body is all fire and weight pressing down on you, filling the spaces inside you you didn’t even know were empty until now.

“More,” he whispers between kisses. “Always more.”

And you’re his, completely. The ache inside you answered at last.

His rhythm builds, fingers still buried deep while his other hand cradles your face—thumb brushing slow circles across your cheek, grounding you in the chaos he’s coaxing from your body. Every stroke inside you is purposeful, practiced, but full of reverence, like he’s trying to memorize you from the inside out.

“Look at me,” he says, not quite a whisper, not quite a command. Just enough to send heat licking down your spine. “I want to see you when you come undone.”

And you do—eyes wide and glassy, lashes fluttering as your breath stutters. The sight of you like this makes him groan, low and hoarse, hips jerking just slightly, betraying how close he is to the edge too, even though he hasn’t taken you fully again yet.

His fingers still, just enough to make you whimper. He presses a kiss to your jaw, then your mouth, as if that could quiet the ache.

“I could live here,” he murmurs into your lips. “Right here, inside you, around you... forever.”

Then he shifts, slow and careful, pulling his fingers free with a wet sound that makes your whole body tighten. He holds your gaze as he brings those same fingers to his mouth, tongue curling around them with a filthy sort of tenderness, eyes half-lidded, like tasting you is sacred.

“You, my dear, officially drive me undeniably insane,” he says, voice wrecked with want. “And I don’t wanna be sane again. Not so soon...”

When he finally sinks into you, it’s with a desperate groan that breaks right through you—thick and deep, every inch stretching you open like a promise. The burn is beautiful, the pressure perfect, and your body arches to meet him like it was made to.

He doesn’t rush. He moves—slow, rolling thrusts that keep you trembling, pinned under him and worshiped at once. His forehead presses to yours, sweat-slick and trembling, and for a moment he just stays there—buried inside you, eyes fluttering shut as your pulse thrums between you.

“You feel like heaven,” he breathes, and then again, “Mine.” Like he needs you to hear it more than once.

And when he starts to move in earnest, it’s with the kind of slow devastation that leaves nothing untouched. Every stroke drags a sound from your throat, every grind of his hips makes your legs shake. He’s whispering again, praise and filth mixing on his tongue:

“So tight for me. So fucking good, after this you'll learn to ask, okay? I could stay like this all night. Just you. Just us. I'll spend every break just like this, or with a mind filled with it.”

And maybe that’s exactly what you want too—him, again and again, until the world fades and all that’s left is the rhythm of his body in yours and the fire he keeps stoking, endless and aching.

He moves again, deeper this time, more sure. Not fast—not yet. But he rocks into you with the patience of a man obsessed with detail, addicted to the small shifts of your body around him, attuned to every gasp and flutter.

Your eyes roll back as you clench down, and he groans—sharp and breathless, the only crack in his otherwise impenetrable restraint.

“Fuck—tight,” he mutters, head bowing slightly. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let me feel it. That’s what I need.”

There’s nothing clinical in his voice now. It’s reverent. Hungry.

His hands are everywhere—on your hip, your thigh, pressed over your chest like he wants to memorize the stutter of your heart. You’ve never seen him like this—undone and focused, devoted. Not just having sex with you, but learning you, like you’re anatomy he wants to master, muscle and nerve and heat.

Your orgasm builds again—second? third? You’ve lost count—rising fast like a tidal wave you can’t hold back.

Zayne notices. Of course he does.

“You’re close.” It’s not a question. “Let it happen. You’re safe. You’re good. You’re mine to take care of.”

That breaks you.

You cry out, raw and sharp, body arching under him as you fall apart with a helpless sob. He takes all of it—every pulse and tremor—and doesn’t stop moving, like your pleasure is the only thing keeping him alive.

He presses his forehead to yours as you shake, still holding you, still inside.

You barely have breath to whisper it: “You really needed this?”

He laughs softly—warm, breathless, wrecked. “No... yes but,” he kisses your knuckles as he admits. “But you did.”

He kisses you—slow, deep, filled with a sweetness that makes your chest ache.

Then he adds, quiet and unshakable: “But I wanted to be the one who gave it to you.”

You blink up at him, throat tight.

“Was that... alright with you?” he asks softly. “Dr’s orders... and all.”

You smile, dazed. “Might need a follow-up appointment.”

His smirk—barely there, tired, pleased—makes your heart flutter.

“I’ll clear my schedule.” ⋆⁺₊❅。

MASTERLIST WITH ALL MY FICS

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#omg this SUCKED TO WRITE #but it was on my list #zayne lads #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne #zayne x reader #zayne smut #zayne lads smut #lads zayne smut #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace #li shen #zayne li #lads smut #zayne lads fic #zayne fic #mine

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st4rbwrry · 17 hours ago

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𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 ୨୧ ˖ ࣪ . . . 5.4k. black fem!reader ◞ countryside setting◞ lowercase intended ◞ soon to be married◞ rough sex ◞ unprotected ◞ age difference ꒰ 36 + 25 ꒱ ◞ praise ◞ oral ꒰ f. ꒱ ◞ fingering + finger sucking◞ hair pulling ◞ creampie ◞ pet name usage ꒰ darling, baby , sweetheart, old man ꒱ ◞ manhandling ◞ choking + spanking ◞ overstimulation ◞ minors aren’t welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated <3 𓊇ྀི

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . my first rick fic soo i’m hoping i did his characterization well ! here’s some visuals for theme . <3 ‘n here’s the smut linkies > > ( ❤︎. ❤︎.)

the black 1967 chevy impala quietly pulled into the gravelly driveway of a small cottage nestled within a tiny town. the neighborhood’s always silent around these hours, only semi-peaceful disturbance of cicadas bellowing in the freshly mowed grass. the worn out cowboy boots on rick’s tired feet stumble up the main entrance of the home, keys jangling from the loop he had his finger secured in. when entering his house, it’s nearly pitch dark had it not been for the kitchen light being lit. an old white, floral printed couch that was usually wrapped in plastic was now pulled out to reveal a bed where two women slept peacefully in silk pajamas. your best friends, and bridesmaids.

tomorrow was a special day. a wedding was to be held at a cathedral not too far out of town. something small, something memorable. he was never one big on attention, though family was sacred. he’d already planned to have a separate gathering for either side of your families to celebrate the marriage. the thought of being wed to you tomorrow brought joy to his heart. he’s waited so long to fully make you all his. he would’ve married you from day one had you not been difficult to lock down. however, he loved the chase.

heavy feet thud up the old wooden staircase, nowhere near as quiet as he seemed courtesy to the alcohol running rampant in his veins. pushing forth the bedroom door, rick’s instantly soothed when he catches sight of you. sitting on the floors that bear the gentle patina of age by your side of the bed, a plush area rug in earthy tones providing a cozy contrast to the cold hardwood beneath. the large four-poster bed dominates one wall, its rich, arched mahogany frame polished to a warm sheen. soft, billowy curtains in a subtle floral pattern hang from the windows, filtering the moonlight into a cool glow.

in the corner, there’s an antique sewing machine that sits atop an oak nightstand. you’re surrounded by spools of thread, sequins, and scissors. occasionally, you’d sip on your mug, or his since it read ‘daddy of the year’ — containing raspberry leaf tea. the fluff of your curly ponytail swings as you turn to face your fiancé, a smile beaming bright from his presence. there’s two long tendrils of hair that frame both sides of your pretty face. lashes still curled and brushed with mascara, and lips pigmented with liner and gloss. a natural beauty.

rick notices you’ve got on a shirt of his. it’s nothing out of the ordinary, but it gets him out of character suddenly. he’s got a deep grin on his face, smile lines puncturing and blue eyes twinkling. you let him greet you with a hand patting at the top of your head, his hand easing down to cup your face before he’s plopping down on the floors before you.

“hey there, darlin'," he slurred, his speech slightly slowed from the alcohol.

calloused hands brush along your knee, your hands intricately stitching final touches to your wedding gown. his thumb absentmindedly rubs circles on your thigh, resting on his elbow as his gaze lazy drifts over your features. you always knew when he had a good time with the guys because he’d come home smiling like a lovebird just because he missed you. they were nice to be around, but nothing compared to coming home to you.

“hi, baby. how was your night?” the delicate tone of your voice instantly brings peace, rick humming elatedly.

“night was good. knocked back a few cold ones. even caught the falcons game. a damn tragedy,” rick says with a suck of his teeth at the end.

“yeah? you bet money?”

“only ‘bout twenty.”

“mm, good thing it wasn’t nothin’ too drastic,” you go to cup the underneath of his jaw, holding the needle and thread in your other. you shift his jaw from side to side, the cap on his head hiding his eyes that haze over. you caught a whiff of beer and cigs on his breath and clothing mixed with his cologne. “can smell it on you for sure. got some tea on the stove if you want.”

rick pulls back slightly, chuckling. “sorry ‘bout that. i’ll take some in a minute.”

his eyes drift along your figure, his baby blue button-up you wore hugs every curve of your body tight. a few buttons undone that shows your cleavage, a silver necklace or two swinging. the high pony on your head that’s curled at the ends sway around you heavenly.

“played pool and stuff?”

he blinks, humming, “yeah, shot a few rounds. daryl cheated though, swears he didn’t but y’know i can catch me a liar like nothin’ . — this shirt looks good on you.”

rick’s voice is a low purr, fixating on the softness of your thighs he continues to rub on, a decadent scent resembling tiramisu casting over his nose. eyes even catching some glitter on your skin. “think you could show me what’s underneath this garment, sweetheart?”

smiling, you continue sewing. “don’t try to turn this about me. you’re an hour late.”

a contrite expression overtakes as he knocks his head back to look up at the clock on the wall, now realizing it’s way past the hour he promised to be home. rick sighs, lifting the brown cap on his head to run a hand back, curly ringlets sitting at the nape of his neck. “shit, i’m sorry, sweetheart. you know i always stick to my word.”

a giggle escapes. “don’t beat yourself down, old man. it’s alright. i’m glad you had a good time with the boys.”

“you a ‘lil jealous?” he tosses his hat aside, bringing himself closer to you to kiss your knee.

rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “i was with my girls. we had a good time, too. couldn’t sleep, though. got an idea to add some embroidery to the dress.”

it didn’t occur to rick that you’d let him see the dress this early on. honestly, you didn’t care too much for old traditions. they say it’s bad luck for the groom to see the dress, but superstitions didn’t bother you none. it was already untraditional that you were being wed without family. it was a plan you had for a long time. for your first wedding, you just wanted it to be something small with each of your close friends. run away together after. come back in two weeks and have a family gathering, then a couple years in, possibly five — you’d renew your vows with a bigger setting. and by then, hopefully, a big family of your own.

“it’s lookin’ gorgeous, you did a good job.”

“thank you, baby.”

his touch maps the contours of your body through the fabric of the shirt. you’re sitting on your bottom but your left leg is folded in, foot resting on your other thigh. rick leans back a bit to adjust where he laid, catching sight of white lace underneath. he hinders himself.

“i saw a few new homes they’ve been building in the newspaper. i figured we could go view them, you know, after we find some time.”

rick nodded thoughtfully, now tracing patterns over your arm with his fingers. “yeah, that’s soundin’ good anything in particular you're looking for? big backyard for a garden? a nice kitchen so you can bake your famous pies?”

“hmm, i’ve been wanting something really vintage, something built in the 70s. ‘bout forty acres, enough to have a garden and an area for you to grill with the boys . . and the kids to play,” you smile dreamily at the thought. “i love our home here, but a bigger space would be nice. that’s always been the plan, right?”

rick nods assuredly. “right, we always talked about that. we can make that happen. i w’na make you happy. you deserve the big house with the wraparound porch, and the giant kitchen so you can bake me pies.”

“you hungry or somethin’? you keep talking about these pies,” you joke.

“i repeated myself? whoops,” rick palms his forehead, the both of you laughing. “guess i am. i need to sober up. c’mere.”

rick remains rested on his elbow, fingers trailing closer under your shirt, grazing your tummy and inching his face closer to your thighs. your back rests against the bed, biting your lip with a giggle as you clamp your legs shut.

“no, no, mister. save your energy. we gotta be up bright and early.”

“gimme one of those sweet kisses, it’ll wake me right on up,” he’s playfully biting at your hips now, the dress you held in your hands now displayed on the floor.

the quickness of heat encasing your face makes you shift back, stirring your waist unwittingly. full bearded face that grows like nothing, giving him a trim just a few days ago, patched with stubborn grays tickle your inner thighs the further he spreads them and the harder you clench them to stop him.

“nuh-uh, not when you’re like this. one kiss will lead to ‘em sneaking somewhere else. and you know it.”

“mhm,” it’s like he’s not listening. “one little kiss, huh sweetheart?” his voice was a low rumble, body practically thrumming with tension and need.

pushing away your dress and tools so neither of you would get hurt, or your dress ruined, you nod for his approval, “just one, rick.”

he couldn’t help the cocky smirk displaying as you relented, eyes glinting with triumph. “that’s my girl.”

hands roaming your body possessively, each touch inflames you both, gasping as his rough hands grope your waist and leads up to your tits he kneads in his palms. rick loves to touch you, even if it’s for a simple kiss. they encapsulate yours with hunger, whimpering into his mouth when his tongue touches yours, tasting liquor and tobacco. tea tree scent of beard butter on his facial hair still strong and it weakens you. the kiss gets messier, rick grabbing at your neck as you lean your head back and accept every rough suck of your lips he takes. the two of you are eating at each others faces like it’s the first time you’d gotten to.

he could feel the heat building between you, his restraint slowly ebbing away. he had broken the kiss to catch his breath, eyes darkening with raw pleasure, "damn, ꒰ ♥︎ ꒱',” he rasped, his voice rough. “i want you so goddamn bad right now.”

pawing at his chest, black shirt enveloping his muscles, you gnaw at your lips. “said one kiss. gettin’ greedy, rick.”

rick’s lips trailed a path from the pulse points on your neck to just below your ear, his breath giving you goosebumps. “i said i need you.”

as he sits on his knees before you, his big hands are tugging at your panties, face stern as he pulls them down your ass as you lift, the pads of his fingers digging into the plump of your ass. looking up at him in a daze, your mouth drops in submission once he’s tearing them off your skin, gasping from the air your slick folds are exposed to. without being aware, you’re full on soaked. lips between your teeth, you study the way rick lowers himself before you, crouching at your pussy’s level.

“let me see you, baby,” he whispered, lifting your legs and pressing them up to your chest. “hold ‘em f’me.”

your face is in a pout, gyrating your pelvis forward, fingers hanging in your mouth with the gleaming, princess cut diamond ring stunning in view. raising your legs, you keep them straight, high, and pressed to your chest. opening yourself up for him, head resting on the edge of the bed. rick felt the way his dick twitched from the sight, indenting his fingers into your plush skin, guiding his thumb up and down your wet slit, knuckle delicately pinching at your clit, pulling back a bit to see the string of cum follow. you always kept her trimmed clean and smooth, shiny under the lamps light.

“look at that, s’fuckin’ precious,” he grunts, your frustrated whines catching his full attention. sounding like a fragile little puppy. “oh, i get it. want me to shut up and get t’the good stuff, yeah?”

you’re staring down at him in a haze, eyelids lowered and nibbling at your nails with your mouth hung, nodding with a pant.

“don’t chew your nails like that, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice close to a growl. “givin’ me all kinds of ideas.”

“mmm, like what?” you tease back.

“like having that pretty little mouth occupied. but it’s not ‘bout me right now.” rick’s teasing, landing a soft smack on your inner thigh close to your pussy. you jump, leaking down to your ass cheeks. it’s a sticky mess he created. “she needs it bad?”

“y-yes, rick. need it now,” you admit.

rick’s huffing out a chuckle, sucking on his thumb to get a quick taste before he’s groaning, ducking his head down to give your pussy a full, sloppy, open mouthed kiss. it sounds like water, his saliva leaking onto you. “always taste so good, can’t wait till tomorrow baby.”

“yeah?” it comes out in a nasally whimper, delving your manicured nails into the backs of your thighs. “a-are you happy?”

“it’s g’na be the best goddamn day of my life, sweetheart.”

his admission makes your face heat up even more, grinding towards his in a desperate, silent plea. it gets rick off, honestly. seeing how fueled you are for touch now. the desire to eat at you is threatening to overwhelm him, so he engulfs you into his mouth without another thought. a small sob crawls in your throat, rick’s eyes primal as he catches yours while a guttural growl rumbles in his chest. teeth sinking into your lip, you whimper and continue holding yourself open for him, jaw dropping and panting heavy from every gentle lick he gives your clit. you gasp when his mouth trails up your inner thighs, spanking them on either side as he shifts his head to catch your bud into his mouth once again, pulling it between his lips gently before releasing and swallowing you up wholly.

the method of his tongue starts off soft, then transitions to teasing laps followed by firmer, more demanding sucks, determined to wring every last drop of cum from you. with your stomach caving in, a high-pitched whine escapes your lips as he devours you, hips bucking wildly against his mouth as you try to escape the intense sensations crashing over you. using your strength to keep your legs in the air, your fingers thread through his hair, tugging harshly as you grind down onto his face, chasing the pleasure building in your core. losing balance when your knees bend, rick guiding his face all over your pussy, allowing you to use his face. the disgusting noise of rick slurping you up and matted beard scraping at your skin makes you lose your mind.

“rickkk,” you’re crying softly, hiccuping and melting into his touch the more he molds at your flesh with his rough hands and sucks on your pussy.

“y’cummin’, sweetheart?” his tongue continues to work, steadily sloshing it after pulling back the hood, tears welling in your sockets and feeble, whiny sobs surpass the lewd sound of spit swapping with cum.

“mm—h-hmm. y-yes.”

“c’mon, then. fuckin’ gushin’ all over my tongue. gimme somethin’ sweet to slide into.”

with eyes rolled back, you mindlessly move your waist that stutters from every lick, sitting in a puddle of mess. frantically, your palms slam on to the backs of your thighs to hold them still as they tremble, smacking at them yourself to coax vibration towards your sensitive pussy all the while urging your fiancé to land a hit where you needed it. and he hits hard in repetitions on either side again like you love. the tickles of his beard makes you incredibly wetter as it scratches all the right parts. it’s getting creamier, and rick knows because there’s a sweeter taste on his palate, and when he goes to curl his fingers into you — pushing and pulling, and because the angle in which you sit is adding pressure to your tummy, it’s all on his hand. gooey and delicious. rick grunts, rubbing your clit with his thumb adjacent to fucking you with his fingers.

“awee, fuck! g-god, baby,” your heartbeat picks up quicker, gasps flowing in the air as you grab his wrist and clamp your legs together creating more tension as you cum.

it takes you quite a while to ease, arching your back off the side of the bed as your stomach presses into his face, rick smelling your lotion and kissing your belly. your eyes can’t help but stare in a daze, every rise and fall of your chest is followed by wheezily pants. legs shaking and skin getting sweaty. the shape of your eyes are daunting. biting your lip as you scratch at his semi-soaked beard to pull him in for a kiss, staring him down with blown sepia pupils and low lids mimicking feline.

rick takes the way you look at him as a threat.

“keep staring at me like that ‘n i’m liable to fuck you right now,” his voice is hoarse.

“g’na keep staring ‘cause i love you,” grinning, you continue to play with him. you liked making him mad.

“mhm, you love your old man?” he muttered gruffly, his grip on your hips getting tighter.

your heart skips a beat, chest tightening with emotion. eyes fluttering closed briefly, then snapping back open to stare at him intensely. “yes, i love you.”

it’s swift when rick goes to lift you up. scooping you up by the column of your underarms as if you were a small pet and placing you down onto the mattress that your body bounces onto gently. giggling in your state, you hum drunkenly as rick’s hands roam over your hot skin, turning you so you’re laying on your stomach with one of your knees raised by your side. the button-up you wear is well over hiked up your full ass, clenching your fist holding the material with visceral appetite, wiggling your butt and hearing your slick that’s glued to your inner thighs.

rick’s got his neck bent slightly to the side, eyes squinting, your act of seduction only worsening his need to roughen you up a bit. he stays silent, unbuckling the hefty black leather belt on his waist and dragging down the zipper ever-so slowly. the lust in the room rises, the alcohol still thrumming in his system as he pulls out his cock. it’s . . fat. pulsing visibly with a swollen head and dense veins — could be a replica of his forearm, really. it’s hanging halfway out of teal boxers, pubic hairs dark and unruly. pulling them further down his crotch so his balls fall out and jolt for your joy. loving the feel of them plopping against your sticky clit from behind.

the sound of him patting the heftiness of it along the plump of your butt ricocheted in the small room. rick’s palming the arch of your back, pushing it deeper so he’d get you in the angle he wanted. bent just enough so he could catch a glimpse of your cunt soddened and open.

“s' thing real pretty, ain’t it?” rick wets his lips, curls falling in front of the frame of his face as he gets a closer look like he’s never seen her before. or, like his face didn’t reside there only five minutes ago. “g’na get fucked real nice.”

being under his monitor always felt nerve-racking. he’d take his time observing your body to see what makes you react to what, or simply get a kick out of the squirming and mewling you act out when peevish. stepping out of his boots and bottoms, he’s allowing you to feel just how scorching his skin was on yours.

“rick.” there’s that crankiness he was talking about. it comes out as a solid groan, continuously swaying your legs side to side even though he’s got your waist locked.

rick lowers his chin, spitting directly on his dick before wrapping his veiny hand around and pumping over the length of it, stroking over the sensitive head before he’s aligning the tip with your dripping entrance. the pink of it showing a tight ring after careful back and forth insertions. a sharp cry ripples from your throat as he fills you completely, walls stretching to pull in his size. you can feel every throbbing inch of him buried deep, the sensation bordering on yummy in its intensity. your nails dig into the sheets as you adjust to the sudden intrusion, body trembling with the effort of relaxing around him. unable to make a noise, you bite down on the sleeve of your shirt as your eyes falter shut. after a few moments, a dull ache of fullness only serves to heighten your arousal, breathless in his possession.

“g’na fuck you so dumb, make you s’full,” rick hisses, sliding halfway out before plunging forward again.

you push back against him, encouraging him to start moving as your pussy clenches greedily around his shaft. turning your head to look at him over your shoulder,

you keep your eyes on his, lashes kissing your cheekbones delicately while you see rick shuffle his black t-shirt up his midsection a bit more, drooling at the sight of his tanned chest and hard stomach. a stripe of hair leading down from the navel, strong arms with light brown frizzy hair, and deepset eyes that lure you in to danger. you fucking loved this man.

“those eyes of yours, darling,” he announces almost with warning, wrapping his fist around your ponytail to pull your neck back for a quick, harsh peck to your full lips.

letting go, his hand finds a new place to grip, and that was your neck. holding you in place while grinding his dick into you. your vision starts to blur as his hand compresses tight around your throat, clawing at his wrist as the pressure exceeds. the weight of your ass claps back onto his groin as the two of you rock together. rick’s thrusts rough and steady, pounding his cock into your pussy depravedly.

“atta girl. take it all.”

unexpectedly, your mind goes blank from the intensity of it all, and just a few thrusts sends you hurtling towards another orgasm, eyes scrolling back and sobs ensuing. rick’s hold on your throat loosens just enough to allow you a precious breath, but the momentary reprieve only fuels his own lust. he watches, transfixed, as your face contorts in pleasure. gasps coming out in ragged breaths, the sudden influx of oxygen only serves to amplify the sensations, and you stutter out his name as you gush and cum hard. pleasure ripping through you, pussy clamping down on his dick tightly.

“ungh, f-fuck — ooh fuck.”

you go to cover your mouth to muffle the sounds, not wanting to wake your friends sleeping in the living room, almost forgetting they were here.

rick’s eyes narrow at your attempt to be silent. “ uh-uh, darling. i don’t give a fuck about waking your friends. don’t cover your mouth.”

whining once again, your favorite, rick gropes your neck to keep you fully still as he fucks harder into you. “eyes on me. look me in the face.”

doing as he says, you maintain eye contact as best you can, screwing your face up the deeper his dick hits inside of you, moaning when he goes to slap your cheek gently and clawing at the sheets in response desperately. every pound gets greedier, a sheen of sweat on rick’s forehead as he prolongs groans and grits his teeth while his hips slam against your ass. a particular noise you make full of broken moans ruins him.

“yesss, good girl,” his brows are knitted, voice getting gruff and guiding your body to bounce back on his dick.

“s’s-so — deep,” the broken tone of your voice emits, crawling your way forward for a sense of relief. just needing it a bit.

“you ain’t goin’ nowhere, girl,” rick grumbles, pulling you back so both of your legs are straight now, grinding his dick into you before removing his hand from your throat to capture your ponytail to yank your head back.

“p—lease, baby,” you beg.

“just a lil’ more. just a little more,” rick nearly pleads, voice softening and turning into whimpers as he grounds his dick into you, lifting his weight off a little before crashing his hips back down again and again. “ugh, shit.”

there’s specks in both of your visions, finding yourself sucking on your fingers as rick licks and nips at your neck, relishing the moment. the moonlight that was once outside began to disappear, clouds settling slowly into dawn. you don’t know how long it’s been since he’s stepped foot into the room, but you knew for sure that you’d both be ridiculously tired by morning.

rick builds up the strength to let you go, for now that is. pulling out tenderly, he’s bringing you up off the bed and lifting your frame in his arms. with your arms draped over his shoulders, you nuzzle your face within the crook of his neck as he goes to sit on a wide wooden chaise facing the opposite side of the room. getting comfy for you both, rick’s got two of his palms on either side of your face to give you a few more sweet smooches. joining in soon was raw, wet kisses. descending his hands to smooth down your backside before kneading the doughy flesh of your butt. manspreading, he’s making sure you’ve got enough room to move, balancing yourself above him using the throw pillows as leverage for your knees.

“drop down slow, baby — slow. listen to your cum coatin’ my dick,” rick whispers, hips stuttering, trying to find his own willpower in not fucking up into you.

the moment narrows down to the pressure of splitting yourself open on him, the musky scent of his skin filling your nostrils, and the steady pulse of his heartbeat against your palms. arousal sticky and loud all over you both. weak whimpers spew as you sink further and further down to the hilt, taking your time and grinding your hips. a soft moan escapes your parted lips as you revel in the warmth and stiffness of him inside you, your pussy clinging to every throbbing inch like a second skin.

“baby, you’re in my tummyyy. you’re so deep. feels so good.”

"you’re stuffed full, baby?”

“mmmhmm,” you murmur, eyelids drooping as you let yourself melt into the feeling of being so deeply filled by his dick. your hips continue to undulate slowly, grinding against him in a hypnotic rhythm that seems to draw him further under your spell.

switching up, you arch your chest towards his and keep your hands on his chest, driving your ass up and down on him to keep the tip of his dick nudging at your spot. it made you both feel good, rick’s touch back on your ass as you gyrate and fuck him.

“get it,” rick grunts in your ear, guiding you up and down while easing his way into thrusting his hips upward, fingers sinking into your supple hips to urge you on.

the way you fuck him is steady and mildly rough, every pop of your ass onto his muscular thighs resounds in the room along with rick fucking up into you to match rhythm. the fat of your ass claps on his skin just as loud, rick raising two hands and slamming them down together before helping you fuck him. up and down, harder. he keeps you where you want to stay, but couldn’t fight the urge to grope your brown skin ravenously before pivoting his groin and beating his dick up each time you plummet.

“r-rick, fuck babyy — mmmgh.”

rick’s gaze is riveted to your face, breathing heavily into each others mouths as your bodies connect lewdly in the quiet confinement of your shared bedroom. birds began to chirp on the outside, and the light hitting your bodies felt poetic. his hand takes your ponytail and pulls your head back, your arch getting sharper and your mewls never ending.

“w’na marry you right now,” you whisper out of high, giggling when his mouth laps at your collarbone.

“you’re silly, sweetheart. you’d w’na get married while i’m fuckin’ you like t-this — fuck.”

“yess, with your dick in me. i love ittt!”

rick gives your ass a playful spank, voice husky as he chuckles and keeps you grounding on his dick. his eyes blaze with unbridled lust and love as he watched you succumb and go dumb, body writhing.

“you can marry me again with my dick in you later, yeah?”

“yess, promise, baby?” you pout.

fuck, you really had a way with making him submit to your every wish. “long as you let me fill you up. c’mon, milk it baby. it feels so good. be a good girl. you’re doing such a good job.”

the more he praises you, the weaker your body grows. you wanted to make him happy, and you wanted your promise granted, so you do what he needs you to and that’s bounce on it faster. rick chokes, jaw lowering as you lift and clench your pussy tighter, fucking him good.

“mmm, fuck yeahh, just like that," rick growls, his voice strained with pleasure. "ride it nice ‘n good, darling. show me how much you want it."

he leans forward, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss as he continues to guide your movements, his tongue delving to tangle with yours. the chaise creaks beneath you, the wooden frame somewhat creaking and scraping against the tile floor with each frenzied bounce.

“i fucking love you,” you cry out, thighs trembling and close to giving out. that bubble ready to burst.

“i love you too, darling.”

rick delivers loving kisses to your lips, sucking and pulling at your lower lip and rushing tongues. he feels close to cumming as well, shoving your chest to his and planting his feet flat while leaning his back fully against the chair for sturdiness before he’s rutting up into your pussy as you claw at his skin. it wasn’t intentional for you to scream the way you did, certainly needing to apologize to the girls once they wake up — but he felt so, so fucking good. fucking you just the right way.

spurts of cum trickle down his groin and thighs as you mindlessly find yourself squirting, biting at his shoulder with tears in your eyes. from the mirror nestled in a corner across the room, he could see you dripping down his dick along with your cream.

“ooo, give it to me. give it to me.”

every spoken word is aggressive with despair, rick fucking every ounce of cum out of you that he could get you to produce before he’s nutting warmly into you. jaw clenching, fingers embedding into your skin harder as if scared to let you go. thick ropes spurting and pussy sloshing over wetly mingled.

he’s got his forearm thrown around you, cradling you into his arms warmly, and it’s comforting. resting his chin on your shoulder, he’s intaking your scent — a scent he’d have forever being married to you starting today. he had such a soft spot for you. you run circles on his back, staying put in the embrace, smiling stupidly.

rick pulls back to see your face. “are you okay, baby?”

nodding, you smile tiredly. “just sleepy.”

“mm,” rick scans the room for the clock on the wall. “it’s close to seven. i’ll make sure to get up and let the girls know you’ll need a lil’ more time before getting ready.”

pawing at his jaw, you give him one big kiss. “you’re so sweet, baby. thank you. can’t wait to marry you.”

rick smiles, adoring that you keep reminding him of that. it makes him feel ultimately secure. “twice, right?”

“mhm, twice.”

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes smut #twd smut #rick x reader #rick x black reader #rick grimes x black reader #rick x you #rick smut #rick grimes x y/n #twd x reader #𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 🫙 ˚⊹ 𓊇ྀི #twd x you

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saintrafayel · 3 days ago

Text

li’s adopting their hybrids

Synopsis: Headcanons for the li’s and their sweet, darling hybrids and how they came into their lives.

Warnings/tags: Xavier x sheep!hybrid, Zayne x cat!hybrid, Rafayel x bunny!hybrid, Sylus x puppy!hybrid, Caleb x cow!hybrid, non canon compliant, mentions of abuse in Caleb’s. Yandere Caleb but like what’s fucking new? 18+ only.

Xavier

Xavier decided that he wants a calm little hybrid, initially planned on adopting a cat hybrid but changes his mind at the last second when he sees you. The manager insisted that he pick another one, “that one’s too timid, scared of her own shadow,” he grunted but Xavier insisted.

You cried the whole walk back to Xavier’s apartment, not wanting to leave the comfort of your prison. Once you arrive you immediately bleated when he tried to touch you and made a run for the nearest bedroom. You locked the door and blocked it with your body (he could feel you trembling against the door). It took him almost an hour of coaxing to finally get you to come out.

“Your fur’s out of place, may I brush it?” He gently ask you when you open the door. Your face was puffy and your eyes were bloodshot, not knowing what to expect from the stranger. You shake your head gently as your tail swings between your legs, but Xavier keeps his composure. You were panicked, he needed to demonstrate that you have no need for anxiety anymore. “That’s fine, this is my bedroom, yours is over here.” He instructs, walking down the hallway and motioning for you to follow.

He decorated your room with a queen sized bed and a vanity. The closet had a few dresses but he insist on knowing your size before he bought too many. You wear his pajamas to bed since he doesn’t have any for you, and it helps you familiarize yourself with his scent.

Xavier attempts to take you shopping at the local mall, but you don’t last too long before you cry out of overstimulation.

Finds out that you desperately cling to your routine, any disruptions can cause anxiety that be desperately wants to avoid!

It takes you three months for you to allow him to touch you, and he adores the small bleats you let out when he brushes your hair or the fur on your ears.

Follows your vegetarian diet very strictly; if you even smell meat in the air you lose your appetite so he makes sure you eat before he cooks his own food.

Buys you the prettiest collars he can afford! Absolutely melts the first time you ask him if he can put it on for you.

You’re very clingy once you feel safe around him, if he’s asleep on the couch you’ll grab a blanket and cuddle him. Naps are your favorite bonding activity with him.

Keeps a hand around you in public to calm your nerves.

Xavier will take you on picnic dates out on empty fields, you love being outdoors with him and you’ll often fall asleep on the blanket before heading back to your home.

“Xavier… can you engrave something on a tag for my collar?” You sweetly ask one evening while preparing for bed (you slept in his room more often than not now). He nods and ask what you’d like, noting your crossed legs and how you avoided eye contact with him. “Wan’ it to say ‘Xavier’s Lamb’ pretty please…” you hide your face in embarrassment, but he grabs ahold of your body and hugs you instead.

“Of course my starlight, don’t be shy… I’ll give my lamb whatever she desires,” he reassures you, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

Zayne

Doesn’t want a high maintenance hybrid, he’s too busy most of the time for a puppy or a bunny.

Zayne doesn’t formally adopt you. One day after work, he sees you being taken in by hybrid control. Any hybrids found uncollared were to be sent to the shelters, it was common knowledge in Linkon. You were angry and prepared to attack the man who was forcing you into the van when he suddenly intervenes. “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you. Forgive my cat, I took off her collar last night and the wanderer attack frightened her. How much do I owe you?” He smoothly lies to the man (for what reason is he helping you? He doesn’t know.) the catcher’s glad to get you off his hands, so he lets you go with a warning. Once he’s gone, Zayne sighs and turns to you. “Shelters don’t take care of your kind very well, be more careful next time.” He warns before turning around and heading off to his home. Doesn’t give you any time to reply to him, and he doesn’t notice that you’ve been following him until he’s more than halfway home. Zayne sighs, turning around as you quickly hide behind a bush. “… Come now, we’ll find a place for you to live in the meantime.” You keep your distance still, but follow him anyway.

Zayne prepares dinner that night for two while you explore his house, getting to know every room and corner.

He does buy a collar for you with his address the next day, but that’s only incase you get caught again. He’d sign off on you and you’d be free once more. Truly doesn’t expect to keep you for more than a month.

Let’s you sleep in his living room for now. He ask his coworkers if anyone wanted to adopt you but most of them already have hybrids or they don’t care for them. Researches your kind to make sure your living conditions would satisfy you, for now of course.

Enjoys how schedule oriented you are, and that you need your space. You hissed at him once for walking too close to you.

Will sometimes wake up to you running around the house because god forbid you let out energy in a normal manner. Gets used to it, but he insisted you use his treadmill at first. “No, that’s stupid. Running around obstacles (his furniture) is more fun.” You shrug and never touch the machine again.

You didn’t take long to open up to him, by the second week you began laying your head on his lap for naps. Zayne couldn’t help how fond he grew of your sweet purs and quirks.

You’re disgusted by any vegetables he makes, you refuse to eat anything besides savory and junk food which annoys him to no avail, but he adjust to your dietary needs anyway.

Likes when you paw at his chest, you don’t like verbalizing your needs so you do that as a way of saying “I’m hungry.”

Invites you to permanently live with him after a month of searching for a home, he’s gotten so accustomed to you and admits he’d feel lonelier without your presence. Prepares a room for you which you spent most of your time in napping.

Zayne doesn’t realize how fucking sassy you would be, you once scratched his leg on accident (your claws were nonnegotiable) and he jokingly said “I should have let the catcher take you.” You flicked him with your tail and scratched him again. “Your jokes suck more than his catching skills…” you hiss before heading to his room and locking the door. Zayne had to sleep on the couch that night since you wouldn’t get out.

You absolutely hate when he smells like other people or animals or hybrids or- anything. The first thing you do when he’s home is hug him and smell his uniform. Unfortunately for you, he’s a doctor and can’t help how many people he’s around at work. You rub your head on his uniform to get the scent of them out and to make sure he’s covered in your pheromones… what if other hybrids think he’s fair game? Absolutely not.

Scratches your belly sometimes because he thinks it’s funny when you get annoyed by it.

Doesn’t bother buying any collars or cute bows for you, you won’t wear them anyway and you prefer wearing shorts with long sleeves.

You’re happy so long as he pampers you with attention when you do ask for it. He’s happy so long as you’re safe and content with the house.

Rafayel

Rafayel originally has no intentions of adopting a hybrid, his aunt convinced him after a long conversation about being lonely but being too damn stubborn to interact with any humans besides Thomas.

He was so indecisive, Rafayel truly hates cats, puppy hybrids are too energetic, and he doubts he’d even find a perfect match for him!

Rejects every hybrid by downright insulting them to their faces, most snarled at him but he brushes them off easily.

Rafayel notices the only hybrid with an expensive collar and aura in general, did you really belong here?

“She’s new, her owner passed away from old age and left her too pampered to live on ‘er own or work. She might be too high maintenance for ya’…” but oh! Rafayel thought you were the prettiest bunny girl to exist! Your large, fluffy ears covered half of your face as you slept on a pink bed. Your nose would crinkle randomly and you even sneezed yourself awake while he observed you.

“Do you wanna come live with me, little bunny?” Rafayel smiles at you as you rub your big eyes awake. Your face tilts in confusion and you blink multiple times as you stare at him.

“Do you have snacks? And a pretty bed for me? And I like getting my hair and fur trimmed once a month, and I don’t share my space with other hybrids- and oh! I need bows for my ears- none of that polyester stuff…” Rafayel grins as you list the demands you have for him, they’ll all be met with ease, he assures you.

Three hours later, Rafayel spends over a thousand dollars on your outfits at the mall and buys you a new furniture set for your room. Insist on a king sized bed for you and overdoes it a bit, even by your standards. He buys you multiple collars too, and a new set of bows that match all of your new dresses.

Rafayel likes to scare you sometimes because you thump your leg on the floor rapidly and he thinks it’s hilarious.

Often has to lock the cabinets in the kitchen, lest you eat all of the snacks inside.

Tries to set you on a schedule but you just don’t listen to it. It’s nap time? “No it’s not, Rafie! I wanna keep watchin’ my movie!” You sweetly cry and flutter your lashes at him. Rafayel always caves in, unable to deny you your desires.

Rafayel feels a sense of satisfaction knowing that he can provide for you and flaunt how happy his darling is, often takes you to his gala’s if you’re comfortable but keeps you home for the most part.

You like watching him paint! You sniff a lot of his materials and try to guess what the colors originate from.

Has tags on all of your collars that range from “Rafie’s bunbun” to “Rafayel’s cumbunny.”

He spends most of his time at home with you, unable to bear the thought of leaving you for more than an hour.

Probably makes you more spoiled than you were before, he doesn’t bother keeping you in check because there’s no point! He knows when to put you in your place though. Gives you a nice smack on your ass when you need to chill out.

Sylus

Sylus had absolutely no intentions of adopting a hybrid, he’s never even been to an adoption center!

He finds you one evening in an alleyway while he’s driving home. There’s a large gash on your shoulder and more blood on the concrete than in your system. You let out a pitiful growl before you pass out, and he lets a moment of weakness dictate his following moves. Sylus has no reason to help you, he’s seen plenty of street rats die in the N109 Zone, maybe it was your puppy eyes that convinced him before you fainted, but he’d never admit that.

You wake up two days later in a dark room with two demons…? staring at you. If you had the energy, you’d bark at them but the most you can do is muster up a faint growl as one of them tries to pet your ears.

“Come on, pup! We got rid of all the fleas in your ears, maybe the boss will let us keep you!” One of them tries to calm you, but his words stress you out behind belief. Keep you? As a pet? Absolutely not. Adrenaline floods your system and you flip your mattress over with what little strength you have left and shrink down in a corner.

Stylus hears the twins scream from a few rooms over and goes to investigate, turns out you bit into Luke’s hand and refused to let go. You definitely drew some blood too, making him chuckle. He has to use his evol to force you to let go, and the twins run out of your room. “Don’t worry, I have no intentions of keeping you past next week, I’m only waiting until you’ve healed from your infection and cut.” He assures, but it doesn’t calm you either.

An hour later, he comes back to your room with a meal on a tray, placing it on the desk by your bed and leaving promptly. You stare at the food for a good five minutes, skeptical of it but too starved to care. You’ve never had your own steak or baked potato before… you caved and chewed everything slowly at first, but ravaged through it in less than five minutes. You’ve never felt so stuffed in your life… was there more? But you’d have to ask the demon twins or the man with the deep voice for more…

Sylus comes back thirty minutes later and he’s surprised, it looks like you’ve even licked the plate clean. “Do you want more?” He ask, picking up the tray as you meekly nod in reply. When he comes back (this time with two stakes instead of one) he notices how your tail wags once you smell your food. You must have had horrible access to food before if receiving seconds made you feel this excited. You don’t eat in front of him, you stare at your plate until he finally leaves and resume your feast.

You have a horrible attention span, everything and anything distracts you from what he’s saying. Sylus tried to explain that you needed another shot for your infection and that he wasn’t trying to hurt you, but the sound of Kieran and Luke playing video games distracted you so much you barked at him when he injected you with your meds.

After three days, you grow accustomed to eating as much as you want when you want, so much so that you begin to understand why other hybrids allow themselves to be adopted. You’ll be gone in Less than a week, so you began to eat less and less as time passes, not wanting your body to get used to the luxury of three meals a day.

Sylus notices how little you eat now, you barely touch your food anymore and never whine for seconds. You explain to him that you’re never sure of your next meal, so it’s best to stay accustomed to a low food intake.

He ask if you’d like someone to adopt you, but you deny it quickly; you didn’t want someone to control your life, and humans are inherently evil to you anyway. You’ve dealt with too many human men on the streets to feel safe around them again.

You insist it’s fine, you’re used to the streets and danger of the city, but Sylus doesn’t buy it.

He offers you an extension at the base, so long as you’re nice to the twins and don’t ruin any furniture (and shower daily). You were so close to denying it when your tail began to wag.

He insist once he sees how happy it makes you, and you share your first meal with him that night.

He lets you order all of your clothes online, you grow used to finding something cute in your size and immediately hitting ‘add to cart.’

The twins grow on you after a bit, but Luke still keeps his distance from you at times.

Sylus doesn’t realize how chatty you are until you’re comfortable around him. He enjoys how you blather on about the most minuscule things that caught your attention while he was gone.

Sometimes gets a bit tired from all of your talking and he scratches the back of your ears. You whine for more scratches and let out moans of enjoyment instead.

You’re afraid of thunderstorms, horribly so. You woke up everyone at the base one night, howling from the loudness of it all. Sylus invites you into his room and you cuddle against him throughout the night.

Adores how much you begin to fill out after living with them for a few months, you were starved before and now you’ve gained weight and seem much less depressed.

You always always run to the entrance once you hear him come in after a long day of business killing people, you throw yourself at him and embrace him in a tight hug.

Calls you ‘kitten’ at times just to make you angry, it’s cute when you growl at him.

Caleb

He first sees you at a dinner party with one of his coworkers, some lieutenant he never bothered learning the name of. It’s quite common for humans and hybrids to date, so it’s not surprising to see you there.

You’re collared and wearing a stunning black slit dress, emphasizing your curves and hiding your tail. Most of your features were hidden in one way or another; your hair covered your ears while your spots were hidden by makeup. The only things that stuck out were your horns, besides that he would have mistaken you for a regular human.

You were such a shy little thing, you didn’t speak to anyone besides your lieutenant what’s his fuck and avoided looking most people in the eye. A few days later, Caleb overhears your owner talking about how dumb you are to a few higher ups, saying you’re barely worth the hassle but you’re too afraid of any repercussions to leave him.

The next dinner, you’re left alone on a balcony while your owner entertains a few others inside and Caleb approaches you. You avoid his soft gaze and pretend not to hear his voice when he says hello to you. Finally makes you giggle when he ask “Does Lieutenant Headass not let you talk to anyone?”

You’ve never heard anyone insult him before! And you thought he’d tattle on you for laughing but you never hear of the instance again. The next dinner you’re at you meet him out on the balcony again, this time more willing to speak.

“Come on, I don’t even like ‘em. I’m surprised you put up with his shit in the first place, you know he talks about you behind your back?” He informs in the middle of a conversation about why the hell you stick around with him.

“That’s fine, he can say whatever he wants as long as I don’t get sent back to a shelter or farm.” You shrug, “I’d rather put up with his antics than be sent back there…” you mumble, looking away solemnly. When you turn away from him, Caleb notices a makeup covered spot on you that’s never been there before (has he already memorized where your spots are? Probably). He grabs ahold of your hand and you panicked for a moment. “Don’t… don’t do that. I can’t risk him seeing.” You warn as you let go of him. He hurts you, it’s obvious to him now, but how much worse is the treatment you received in shelters if you deal with being hit?

The next day, your owner’s been killed in a freak accident during a flight. No one could have foreseen the tragic death of him, and Caleb makes his way to his house (he’s definitely looked into all of his personal information at this point) to check on you.

You’re sobbing and panicking when you open the door, but not for the reasons that Caleb thought. You’ll be sent back to a hybrid farm without an owner, it’s unfortunate but hybrid systems were much crueler to cow girls than they were to most others.

“Don’t worry, you can always come live with me. My penthouse has plenty of space for you.” Caleb warmly offers while you stand in shock. What luck did you run into? What did you do to deserve this generosity…?

You move in immediately with him and Caleb is absolutely enamored with you. You stopped covering your spots on your skin and always wear clothes that let your tail flick around. You pierced your ears and got a septum ring too, both suited you well.

You’re so grateful for Caleb, you don’t even notice how clingy and obsessive he is. If he points out one of your habits you weren’t aware of you don’t think of it as odd or creepy. To you, Caleb is a savior who took you away from a life of misery and uncertainty.

He burns your old collars and buys you new pastel ones, always buys you light colors because you look prettiest in them.

You cried one time when Caleb made hamburgers and he never made them again afterwards

He likes to kiss your spots, even tries to name a few of them.

Likes to grab you by your hips too, sometimes a bit harsh so you’ll let out a precious little ‘moo!’

No one questions when you begin to show up at dinners with Caleb, no one wants to question the Colonel to begin with. Most of them don’t recognize you anyway, Caleb isn’t ashamed of your marks or features so he never covers them.

#caleb x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #love and deepspace #rafayel x you #love and deep space rafayel #lads rafayel #lads sylus #lads caleb #lads zayne #lads xavier #lads x reader #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace caleb #yandere caleb

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celestiaras · 3 days ago

Text

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ huntrix idol spotted having a romantic lunch date?! ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by ✨ anon ˚₊ ⊹

ft. rumi, zoey, mira (separate) x f! reader — kpop demon hunters

╰₊✧ you’re just trying to go on a peaceful date with your girlfriend, but nosy reporters have the tendency to get in the way┊1.3k words

contains: secret established relationship, paparazzi, reader isn't an idol

➤ author's note: my writing is really rambly and i kinda went off prompt, i’m sorry feel free to send in something else T-T

trying to juggle the busy life of a worldwide sensation kpop idol while also secretly dating someone outside of that atmosphere isn’t for the weak, but your girlfriend promises that all the struggles that come with it are worth the reward of being with you and having an ounce of privacy. most of your dates are restricted to the privacy of her dorm, usually consisting of much-needed cuddling on the couch time with snacks and an action movie after a long day of practice or a make-shift candle-lit dinner where you’re probably eating delicious take out (none of these girls can cook for the life of them, except for rumi, but she can’t make anything more complex than spaghetti). while always content with your simple romance life, when the special day of your anniversary arrives, your girlfriend is insistent on doing something different, even if it requires planning a stealth mission to reach your destination unseen.

since she has one of the most recognizable face and hair in the nation as well as having huntrix posters plastered everywhere, dressing up in a baggy jacket, medical mask, and sunglasses are a must to cover up as much as possible (it looks suspicious as first, but once she actually leaves the house, it’s surprising how no one cares enough to spare a second glance). once you arrive at the restaurant she made the reservation at, she reluctantly takes off the oversized clothing to reveal a more appropriate outfit to be granted entry and is escorted inside, but it’s difficult to ignore the shocked looks the other guests are giving her with you following closely behind.

as you settle in and enjoy your meals, the sudden sound and sight of a camera flash interrupts your peace. it appears one of the other customers has tipped off some of the major celebrity news outlets as reporters and their cameras press against the glass windows trying to get a shot of what’s going on, knowing that the rose in the center and loving looks exchanged meant more than a lunch between friends…

━━━ .°˖✧ rumi!! ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ the best out of the three at not drawing any attention to herself on the way there. she minds her own business, knowing the best way to go unbothered is to remain hidden and to blend in with people around her. she plans out the route to get to the restaurant, point “a” to point “b,” holding your hand the entire time. 10/10, you successfully managed to go completely undetected!

╰₊✧ when she notices the reporters, the first thing she does is sigh and think of the best way to get rid of them. although she doesn’t acknowledge their presence, the strained look on her face tells all that there needs to be said. rumi would likely make a deal with them, they could come inside and take a few good photos (with your permission, obviously) then they need to beat it.

“i feel awful,” she muttered, playing with her food using her chopsticks while deep in thought. “this was my idea to come out here, but now we've been found out and everyone knows when we’ve been working so hard to keep it a secret…”

“hey! don’t worry about it, it’s not that big of a deal,” you assured, reaching out to hold her hand in yours, “they’re gone now, so let’s just enjoy the rest of the night, okay?”

╰₊✧ even though the cat is out of the bag, rumi still can’t help but be a little skittish about it. her privacy is something she values a lot, and having one of her secrets exposed to the public makes her nervous about her other secret being revealed as well. not much in the relationship will change, except she might be even more tense than usual about going out together, so give it some time before she relaxes and is willing to loosen up about it.

━━━ .°˖✧ zoey!! ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ the worst out of the three at not drawing any attention to herself on the way there. it’s not a normal outing, it’s a date with her girlfriend! the stress gets to her, and she might not be as subtle as she thinks she’s being, her behavior being comparable to a ninja student on their first day of class. 5/10, attracted a lot of attention, but at least no one recognized her and you got a big laugh out of it!

╰₊✧ when the cameras start flashing and reporters start asking questions, she struggles to ignore them because she’s nothing if not a people pleaser and doesn’t want to hurt any of their feelings by ignoring them. of course, you come first, and if you’re uncomfortable with it, she will dismiss them immediately (to the best of her ability, she feels so guilty), but if you give her the go-ahead, then she’ll probably host an impromptu interview right then and there.

“we met during one of our shows! she was my make-up artist, and i swear, it was love at first sight when she did my eyeshadow— like, wow, fireworks! she’s so gorgeous, i have to ask for her number, right now!”

you couldn’t help but smile at her words, heat rushing to your face as you laughed, “the fireworks are probably an overexaggeration—”

“nuh uh! it was like the fourth of july back in the us!

her passionate rambling about how much she adored you won the hearts of the people as they gushed about how adorable your relationship was. idols typically keep their dating lives private for good reason, but zoey’s openness was refreshing, and her pride to call you her girlfriend was evident to everyone.

╰₊✧ once the news articles go viral and everyone knows, it’s like she broke free from her shackles. she loves you so much that she’s always wanted to shout it from the rooftops, and now she finally can! if you’re alright with it, she’ll post photos of the two of you together on her social media, run to kiss you after performances, and dedicate some of her songs to you, effectively winning the title of the cutest couple alive.

━━━ .°˖✧ mira!! ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ not too bad at not drawing any attention to herself on the way there, but her downfall is her overprotectiveness. if anyone’s gaze lingers on you for even a moment too long, her head snaps around and glares at them until they scurry off. 7/10, she might have scared a couple of people, but no one knew it was her!

╰₊✧ her intense stare also helps scare off the paparazzi. you would think they would know by now not to mess with her, but apparently, the big scoop of her being in a relationship was too tempting to pass up. was it really that big of a deal? it pisses her off to the point that she has to put her foot down before the night is ruined any further.

“hey! do you guys mind? i’m trying to have a date with my girlfriend over here!” she yells out, smacking the table and scowling out of frustration. she doesn’t like being mean or raising her voice, but she thinks it’s warranted when she’s only asking to be left alone and to be mira the girlfriend rather than mira the idol.

you held your breath, worried that she might have just ruined her reputation with a simple statement, but the reporters seemed to love her attitude. that’s the bad girl of the group alright! she’s so brave for speaking out and setting a new standard for idols by standing up for herself! they took one last picture and left the premises, finally giving the two of you some peace and quiet.

“so, anyway, where were we?”

╰₊✧ truthfully, mira doesn’t mind people knowing about her relationship with you, she just worries that they will bother you over it. she takes the happy medium of being confidential about it yet not worrying about hiding it. whatever your preferences are, she’ll adjust to it since she has no strong feelings about it, and will make certain that your wishes are respected.

request:

Could I get a request with Rumi (plus anyone else from Huntr/x if you want but specifically Rumi) with a female reader and them trying to go on dates without being recognized please? (reader can be just a regular person or another idol, whatever is good to get the writing juices flowing!) Thank you if you can!

#📜. her works #kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #rumi kpop demon hunters #rumi kpop demon hunters x reader #mira kpop demon hunters #mira kpop demon hunters x reader #zoey kpop demon hunters #zoey kpop demon hunters x reader #huntrix #huntrix x reader

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realcube · 2 days ago

Text

— GOONER! FANBOY! KENMA

tws & tags ;; nsfw. mdni. camgirl! reader. filming. objectification. vaginal. oral (f! receiving). praise. light impact play. light daddy kink. body worship. squirting — hcs into long fic (wc: 5.6k) part one.

GOONER! FANBOY! KENMA who keeps track of your viewership and subscriber trends more than you do.

FANBOY! KENMA who is, hence, the first to notice your uneasy sub count and lower-than-usual engagement. of course, being a famous streamer himself, he is familiar with slow periods and realises that current trends aren't a direct reflection of the quality of your content. he's certain that due to how sweet you are, and how successful your account is overall, your views will pick up in no time.

FANBOY! KENMA who is surprised and disappointed when your views, in fact, do not pick up.

FANBOY! KENMA who figures that — although it's nice that there's less trolls and spammers in your livestreams now, and that he doesn't have to bid against thousands of other fans for a private show anymore — the suspended growth of your channel cannot be a good thing. firstly, he doesn't enjoy imagining a sweet, gentle girl like you struggle financially, or struggle in any sense of the word. secondly, if your explicit content creation doesn't continue to provide a steady and decent stream of income, you'll probably abandon it, similar to how you stopped making gaming content. and of course, that would be kenma's worst nightmare.

FANBOY! KENMA who is this close to transferring someone's yearly salary straight into your bank account, just so he can implore you to keep making porn. but he unfortunately realises not only is that solution unsustainable, but it's also on a level of absolutely pathetic that he has yet to reach.

FANBOY! KENMA who is more concerned about your channel than he is his own. even if his gaming content were to suddenly lose motion, he'd still have his stocks and company investments to fall back on — but what do you have? shamefully, it keeps him up at night thinking that he soon might never see your gorgeous pussy plastered over his monitors again. or hear those cute moans as you mewl his (user)name over and over during one of your private shows.

FANBOY! KENMA who doesn't have to fret for long. on your main account, you send a text post to all your fans, admitting that your channel has been struggling recently. however, you weren't ready to give up so easily; you figured that in order for your account to blow up, you need to pull some sort of viral publicity stunt. something adjacent to sleeping with 100 men in one day, but unforunately you don't have the endurance for that. instead, you're looking for a popular, non-erotic youtuber to make content with.

FANBOY! KENMA is left aghast. not only at the vulgarity of your proposal, but also at how shockingly clever it was. by poaching a youtuber who doesn't already make nsfw content, you'll not only bring in their audience to your channel, but also a large portion of individuals who will want to see the content purely due to the curiousity and shock-factor alone. it was certainly the perfect scheme for a viral moment. the only glaring issue with your plan lied in the fact that there probably wasn't many popular youtubers who are willing to sacrifice their entire reputation, dignity and future sponsorships for a quick buck.

FANBOY! KENMA who is more than happy to end his youtube career for a quick fuck. especially from you.

FANBOY! KENMA who hesitantly messages you through his verified account, enquiring about the possiblity of a collab. he pays attention to the way he types and makes an effort to stray from his usual typing quirks, lest you recognise the way the types from the hours of private shows you've spent together. and the hundreds of comments he's left under your nude pics from his gooner account.

FANBOY! KENMA whose heart jumps in his chest when he receives a message back from you, which reads that you're delighted to get this oppertunity to work with him and you're happy to discuss setting up a date to meet in-person.

FANBOY! KENMA whose cock stiffens at the mere thought of finally seeing you in real life. getting feel those cute tits, and admire your gorgeous face up close. it makes him light-headed to think he might get to taste that tight cunt he's spent so many late nights drooling over. in fact, he struggles to even picture you in three dimensions — you're just so gorgeous with the most perfect tits, a small part of him suspected you must be some sort of hyper-realistic v-tuber.

but no, you're real. you're a real person and soon he's going to meet you in real life and feel the inside of that pretty hole that he's been obsessing over for years.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Main Street Flats. Room 605. It's on the sixth floor but the elevator is broken right now </3 see you soon!

his heart is pounding in his ears as he gently knocks on your door. despite streaming for audience of over twenty thousand viewers on a weekly basis, this is the most nervous he's felt since highschool. his stomach churned and pulsed, as he gripped onto the hem of his hoodie and prayed he wouldn't throw-up.

the worst part was his original fears would only spawn new ones; in the beginning, his biggest worries pertained to his desirability — what if you think he's too ugly and grimy to have sex with? — and his identity — what if you somehow recognise him from his gooner account and figure out he's perverted loser? it was an endless spiral of anxiety that halted when your apartment door swung open.

"oh, hi! you're here early." you sing, noticing him visibly stiffen at the sudden introduction. famous youtuber and twitch streamer , applepi : this guy was a big name in a the gaming sphere at the moment. admittedly, you didn't watch a lot of his content, but his influence and fame was undeniable. you revised for this meeting by binge watching his past livestreams, so you weren't going in totally blind — overall, he seemed like a sweet guy and the perfect candidate for your publicity stunt.

plus, he was so cute. his hair is long for a guy, and slightly bleach damaged, but it suited him somehow. his features were appealing to look at too ; piercing eyes that are almost feline. though they are currently widened to match his awkwardly startled expression.

or at least, that's what you thought. really, although you did surprise him a bit at first, the reason he was still stood staring at you in prolonged silence, was simply because he was soaking up your ethereal presence. he couldn't believe you were real and standing right afore him.

and you were exactly like your account promised. no editing or filters. that pretty face with those glossy lips that tempt in-person just as much as they do online. your perfectly shaped body was currently clad in a baggy pair of shorts and a low-cut tank top which exposed the bold curve of your tits and that salacious cleavage which was already starting to drive him crazy. was it bad that he already wanted to start sucking on those pretty tits? was he perverted for wanting to rip those shorts right off to see if your pussy was as cute and tight as it is online?

fuck, he's not even been here for a minute yet and already getting hard.

"uh— hello? kenma. you there?" you ask with a curious tilt of your head, since he seemed too stunned to respond.

snapped out of his trance, he hurriedly stammers out a reply, "uh, yeah— hi."

"hi," you repeat with a kind smile, "kenma. that's your name, right?"

"yeah." he mumbles, his cock throbbing upon hearing you say his real name in that melodic voice. he was so used to hearing you mewl and moan, it was kinda weird hearing you talk normally.

"why don't you come in?" you offer, stepping out of the way and softly gesturing for him to enter. he does so, timidly shuffling inside and examining your flat while you shut the door behind him.

he could help but gawk at his surroundings , having finally step foot in your home — it was like a place of mystery and myth. having seen snapshots of your flat in the background of your posts and videos, it was as though he was finally putting together the strangest puzzle. what he never sussed out earlier though, is that you live in a studio. still, he recognises the various parts from content. there, to his immeidate right, was your kitchen area, and the familiar countertop you are bent over in many up-skirt pics. in front of him, there is the large window which you frequently pose nude in front of , which would leave him seething at the thought of any pervvy window-cleaners catching a glimpse of you. against the adjacent wall, was your infamous desk with your pc setup on it, surely the one you would use to broadcast your rauchy livestreams. it felt terribly meta seeing the device in-person, along with your leathery gaming chair, which is shockingly prisitne, yet he seen first-hand how much squirt that thing has been covered with. finally , although he couldn't view it well from where he was standing, a few feet behind your desk was your bed. the main attraction.

"sorry, i don't have a living room or anything, but feel free to sit down here." you scramble to pull out one of the bar stools by your kitchen counter, and it grates against the wooden flooring, causing kenma to wince, "would you like me to get you a beverage? maybe a tea or something?"

cautiously, he sits down on the stool and his eyes follow your figure as you move round the counter into the kitchen to prepare yourself a drink, "water, please."

after removing two wine glasses from your cabinet, you fill each one with water from your filter, "yeah, i'm not feeling tea right now either. and coffee probably isn't advisable." you snicker to yourself, and kenma smirks.

he mutters his thanks as you hand him a glass, and you remain on the opposite side of the counter as you converse, "so, i was thinking we could shoot a video today?" you say, shockingly casual, then take a lengthy sip of your water, "is that okay with you, or do you just want to stick with photos?"

"a video is fine." kenma croaks, attempting to not choke on his water.

"great. my bed is just round there. i've set up some lights and a tripod too, so we should be good to go. oh, and clean sheets." you explain, trying your best to project confidence and praying that he doesn't pick up on how inexperienced you are — especially as you are meant to be the 'expert'. but your insistent lack of eye-contact and stammering might've given you away. "heh, i should admit, i've never done anything like this before."

kenma raises an eyebrow, "hm? i thought this is your job."

"sorta. what i mean is that i usually make, erm— solo content. i'm not used to working with others. not like this anyway." you idly fidget with the stem of your glass, beginning to ramble from sheer panic, "i mean, sometimes my friends might help me take pics. y'know, posing or getting the right lighting. but they don't feature in any, it's mostly just me. well, except for that one time, but yeah."

kenma was forced to sit there and grip onto the stem of his glassware and pretend like he didn't know exactly what you were talking about. (for your birthday, you released exclusive content, wherein fans could buy you stuff off your amazon wishlist and receive special photos in return. most of them were of you in your birthday suit, but a couple of the more candid ones showed you dancing in the club with your friends.)

"i'm new to this as well. but we'll work it out together." he reassures, in his silky voice that already has you rubbing your thighs together with anticipation.

"alright. i guess i'm done with my drink. do you want to just, erm, get started?" you inquire through gritted teeth, and he answers your question by simply getting up and following you to your bed.

before you plop yourself down at the end of the bed, and he perches beside you, the camera is first turned on and the lights are adjusted to suit. "i hope they are not too bright?" you ask, as you notice he sublty winces at the harsh illumination.

"it's fine." he shrugs.

"okay, i find this setting works well for me when i'm on my own. but let me know if you wanna change it."

well, kenma thinks to himself, if this is the lighting that makes you look like an otherwordly, divine spirit in all of your videos, then he must be able to put some faith in it.

"also, remember, the key to a good porno is lots of foreplay. think you can do that?" you challenge, and without hesitation, kenma nods.

"great, in that case, should we just start?" you suggest, toying with your own fingers, "don't worry about messing up or getting it right the first time. i rarely get the right footage in one take, it usually takes me three or four rounds before i get the perfect shot."

fuck, there's no way. as soon as the words exit your word, there's a horny pang that ruptures through kenma's mind, almost causing him to shudder. all the times he's seen you squirt at your desk , or orgasm uncontrollably on your bed, that's been the third or fourth take? to think, how swollen and sore your poor little clit must've been from all that stimulation, just to get the perfect shot for your viewers. you were too heavenly. and what he would do to give that sweet clit a kiss.

"kenma? hello?" you call out, as he appears to be lost in a daze once again.

"uh, hi." he jumps back to reality with a firm blink, "thanks. i'm down to reshoot as many times as we need." which is true, he's been working on his stamina and going on runs specifically for this purpose.

"that's great. but are you sure that you want to do this today? you seem a bit distracted."

he shakes his head slightly, "i'm fine."

"if you say so." you sigh, as you sit up and throw one of your legs over kenma's lap so you are straddling him, "the cameras are rolling, so let's go. don't hold back on me." you purr, arching your back into him and tugging him up by his hoodie's drawstrings into a deep kiss, which he is quick to reciprocate.

it's as though he was having some sort of out-of-body experience, like his mind just couldn't comprehend that you — the woman he's been fanning over and masterbating to for years — was finally on top of him. and he didn't need to empty his bank account for it to happen.

despite the surreal feeling, he tried his best to ground himself by slipping a hand under your shorts and squeezing a handful of your ass, reminding him that you were real and he could touch you. in fact, your lips even vibrated against his own as you mewl over the rough groping. he was more randy than you initially assumed, but that's not to say you didn't enjoy it.

as your lips weaved together in a sensual rhythm, his hand becomes increasingly eager and is able to locate your pantie-clad pussy under your loose shorts. his fingertips poked at and explored your soft folds, and he could feel the wet patch in the fabric where it was drooling for him. the camera would only show his hand stuffed between your thighs, but you knew how his slender fingers were toying with your supple cunt.

similarly, as you got lost in the kiss, his fingers drew towards your clit like a magnet to metal, even through the damp fabric of your panties. it was odd but also kinda a turn-on how familiar he was with female anatomy — you figured he must get a lot of action, or something like that. little did you know, he didn't know the first thing about women's biology , he was only able to find your clit so easily due to the fact he's seen so many of your livestreams that an image of your pussy is basically seared onto his prefrontal cortex. so, considering how much time he's spent watching you abuse that little nub with your vibrator, it would be shameful if he didn't couldn't locate your clit in under a second.

your lips were still dancing against his in a sloppy kiss and your arms were wrapped around his shoulders and your soft tits were pressed against his chest and was it just his imagination of could he feel those cute nipples poking him through your tank top? while you whined into his mouth, his hand adventured under your shorts and rubbed that spongy spot between your folds and you were so wet it was seeping through your panties and sticking to his fingers and when he moved to slap your cunt , he could feel the dip where that tight hole was and how the fabric clung to it and— and fuck, he needs to tear this shit off you.

you try to put on a performance for the viewers — make a little show out of tugging your shorts of for the video that was hopefully going to be viewed by thousands , if not millions of horny gamers. but kenma prevented you from doing so.

"hurry up." his fingers, which were previously digging into the supple flesh of your thighs, move to keenly tug at your waistband. although you were making good progess sensually pulling your shorts down as you sway your hips for the camera, kenma is far to impatient and you stumble as he rushes them all the way down your legs and carelessly tosses them aside.

he grabs a fistful of your newly exposed ass cheek and kneads it in his hand, pulling you back in and deepening the kiss once again. "you're so pretty like this.." he rumbles against your mouth, and you can't help but smile. "better than i imagined." maybe he shouldn't have said that, especially as he's trying to pretend like he's not a fanboy that's been routinely pleasuring himself to you for the last year.. but it's the heat of the moment, and it's so true. he could've never conceptualised how angelic you'd feel, how sweet you'd taste and how deliciously lewd you'd smell.

you're so soft and malleable and light, it's like if he held you too firmly you'd shatter, but if he loosened his grip you might dissipate into thin air. and he couldn't let that happen.

a low whimper is strung from his throat as you lightly grind hips down against his throbbing erection. the noise he made caused him to cringe a little, hence his hand instinctually gripped your ass harder, and it didn't help when you giggled quietly while littering kisses over his jawline and neck. no, that only made him even more self-conscious, and in a fit of frustration, he smacks your ass with all the strength he has in his arm. then, he does it again.

you squeal slightly and strighten up, clinging to his shoulder and looking down at his blank face with a pout. his hands massages the warm area upon which he delivered his merciless strike, squeezing at your raw skin. "sorry.." he says timidly, though the lustful and greedy glint at his eye suggests that he might not be so apologetic.

still, you howl with your back turned to the camera, "ow, kenma!" and he genuinely feels guilty for a split second, until you lean in and whisper into his ear, quiet enough so the microphone wouldn't pick up on it, "do it harder next time, please."

kenma's eyes widen, and the insenity of his erection has suddenly shifted from mild to unbearable. thankfully, you are there to lead the way, and you push him back so he is laying on the bed, and you crawl on top of him, pecking all across his neck while he desperately works on unzipping his fly. usually, he taking his clothes off in front of a camera and professional lightening would've caused him a decent amount of mental turmoil, but fortunately due to the extreme discomfort between his legs, he was able to bypass that phase and skip straight to the part where he is trying to shove his cock into your snug little cunt. the cocksleeve of his dreams.

but of course, you are there to interupt him by grabbing his dick with your cute hands and whispering, "remember what i said about foreplay." kenma presses his lips into a fine line, almost tearing up while attempting not to come undone right there in your hand.

you let go and shuffle forward so you're straddling his lower torso, and your pantie-clad pussy is sat on his lower abdomen. you take the hem of your fitted tank top and pull it up over your head, and out fall your gorgeous tits. just the right size and it's like your pebbled nipples were staring right at him, begging to be sucked and toyed with, calling out desperately for attention, crying out just like how they did online during your private livestreams together. except the only difference is this time, kenma can actually reach out and pinch those adorable nubs with his own fing—

"kenma!" you yelp, feeling the hot cum that was leaking down his shaft touch your lower back. fuck, he came. despite his effort to bite it back, upon seeing your perfect tits, his seed naturally came spilling out too, drooling down the length of his cock and staining his thighs and the part of your back and ass that had been situated near him.

"mph, sorry. you're too hot.." he groaned, in a low enough tone that the microphone probably couldn't have picked it up. you furrow your brows and look down at him with a disatisfied pout; though you can feign anger all you want, doesn't change the fact you were secretly endeared by how easily he came for you. he's like putty if your hands. not that this kind of treatment from men is foreign to you — you entertain gooner fanboys all day, it's kinda your job — but kenma wasn't one of them. no, he's a famous livestreamer and millionaire stock-trader, who most women would be delighted to have sex with but he's still so down bad for you.

but you're only a niche camgirl; he'd probably never even heard of you before you reached out to him about a collab.

your chest heaved as you were momentarily fixated on the feeling of his hot cum splattered on your back, running down your skin in drops, over the rotund globe of your ass and back down on to his lower stomach where you were sat. meanwhile, his narrow eyes explored your perfect figure some more. your pretty tits, the tempting dip of your waist, your erect nipples, your panties which clung to the outline of your damp cunt: of course, he's seen it all before online, but this was different. and so much better.

his hands traced your silhouette, sliding up and down the sensual curves of your body and cupping those perky tits. the words left him without considersation, "can i taste?" he croaked.

"of course." you hummed politely in response. however, you were lost in thoughts of your own, and were not paying attention to the way he was lecherously gazing at your tits. hence, you assumed he was referring to something else. and this misunderstanding only manifests when you shuffle forward, pull your panties aside and sit on his face.

but kenma doesn't protest. not only because he's suffocating in your pussy and can hardly speak, but also because he prefers it this way. he relished the oppertunity and grips your thighs, pressing them further down against his mouth.

his lips work against your folds, feverishly, lapping at your sopping labia and sucking on it — savouring at prisitine juices you have to offer. his eyes screw shut as he loses himself in your wet cunt, thrusting his tongue into your hole eagerly and devouring you like a depraved, starving man. and fucking loves it too, and this time he can't even bring himself to hide it; you can tell by the way he moans into your pussy and whispers all sorts of nasty shit under his breath about how your tight hole is going to rip his tongue off, or how you long he's been dreaming about eating you out.

and those are only the things you manage to hear over the obscene, wet noises his mouth is making against your cunt. you're not sure if it's from the sloppy make-out session he has with your folds, or if it is from his tongue repeatedly drilling into your sopping hole, but something is emitting a squealching sounds which you pray the microphone will detect.

"hah— mmh, t' much.." you whine, your fingers winding into his darkened roots as your squirm against his face, "you're so good, kenma."

"not done.." he grits, squeezing the meat of your thighs and burying himself deeper into your fluttering hole, "'m not done tasting you."

"but i'm close!" you blurt out, legs tensing around his head as a burning heat swirls within your abdomen.

"do it." he groaned, hips rutting into thin air as his tongue furiously pierces into your desperate pussy. "finish on my face.. please, baby, cum on me." at first it was a harsh demand, but the more your sweet pussy filled his senses, it became a plea.

soon, your first orgasm wracked through your shivering body, causing your walls to constrict around kenma's tongue, but that didn't stop him from him from kissing your hole as you climaxed. once you were finished though — your body relaxed and your pornographic shrieks fade into heavy breathing — when you move to pull yourself off his face, his hands grip onto your thighs and hold you in place. his lips then begin to move again as he reestablishes a rhythm to continue eating you out.

his enthusiasm, although cute, was lost on you as you keep trying to pull yourself off his face, to no avail. he whines, words muffled by his mouth locked to your pussy, "nggh, please, princess. 'm not done. let me go again. you're so tasty." his fingers cling to your supple flesh, unable to let you go.

you squirm against his face from the ticklish vibrations of his voice against your clit. yours hands grasp meekly onto his longish blond locks, idly massaging his scalp, "mm, but we need to keep going, honey. for the.." your breath hitches, and you mouth the final word, "film."

"fuck the video.." he groans, pressuring your cunt down against his mouth as he starts gnawing at your insides once again. his lips peppered sloppy kisses at your puckered entrance, then his tongue wormed through your restrictive walls and lapped at gummy spot within you, causing back to arch and an utterly pornographic moan to be yanked from you.

instictually, your hips began to rut against his face as your body revels in the feral way he eats out your pussy. "so good, baby.. can't get enough of you, please don't ever make me leave." he murmurs, stamina fueled by a lust-induced trance.

"think you c— ngh— kenma!" you open your mouth to tease him but your abruptly cut off by a string of moans and sobs that your body is no longer able to suppress. from the way his tongue laps at your puffy folds and his nose prods at your delicate clit, there's a growing desire in the pit of your stomach which is becoming increasingly difficult to hide.

"you like that ? feel good?"

originally you'd been trying to stay collected as this was only just the foreplay, but he was doing something to you, and you just couldn't contain yourself any longer. there you were on your bed riding his face and jutting your hips against him, craving friction and selfishly chasing your high without a care in the word for the man suffocating between your legs.

his whole arms were locked around your legs to keep you in place and his eyes were squeezed shut as he delved into your hole, pushing into you repeatedly while you called for to him. "kenma! please!" you pleaded to the ceiling. " 'm right there , please."

"anything for you. just cum for me, kitten. let it all out. finish on my face again." his tongue was too far up your hole and he was too immersed in your needy, juicy cunt to give a fuck about the cringy pet name. that's what he's always called you in his head — his cute little kitten, with innocent eyes and a hidden fierceness — even when he was just a fan , pumping his cock to your digital pussy on his screen. but now it was real , as real as your arousal smearing his chin and dripping down his throat.

and as real as the squirt gushing from your pussy as you climaxed, drenching his face and neck. his tongue was freed from your spasming hole but he continued to suck on and nibble at your pulsing clit, massaging your ass to coax you through your high.

it was euphoric, your pent-up stress releasing as a wave of bliss coarsed through your body. your muted screamed bounced off the wall as you revelled in the sensation, without a drop of care for your neighbours or those who might overhear.

as your coming down, the orgasmic dizziness begins to fade and your seneses sharpen, which is when you become conscious of a hot fluid dripping down your back. your brows furrow, and you try to reach your hand back to touch it but unfortunately your arms don't bend that far. that's when you hear a murmur of a dishevelled kenma from between your legs, mouth still brushed up against your clit, "erm, sorry. again."

you turn around to see that he came a second time, and now his cum has spurted all up his chest and some must've also splattered across your back, again.

all you can do is titter in response, shuffling off his face and kneeling on the bed beside him, "don't worry about it.." taking his slender hand in your own, you guide it towards your hips as you twist around and bend over on the bed, bracing yourself with your elbows with your ass in the air. "c'mon. 'm ready to take you." still riding your depleting high, you look back at him with your bottom lip captured betwen your teeth and a wanton glint in your eyes. "wanna hurry up and give it to me, daddy?"

even though a part of him reckoned you were playing it up for the camera, he couldn't help but relish at how needy you are. who knew fucking yourself stupid with a dildo and toying with your clit all day while livestreaming wasn't enough for your greedy little pussy? still desperate to get stuffed by him; a guy you hardly knew. god, it drove him crazy to think about.

he swiftly sat up and aligned himself with your entrance, smearing the head of his cock over your glistening folds and lubricating himself with your arousal. he couldn't believe this. his breath hitched at the sight , along with the realisation that he was about to enter the same sweet cunt that he's been dreaming about for ages. he salivates at the notion, wondering whether your walls would squeeze his dick just like he imagined.

there was only one way to find out. wasting no time, the distance between his hips and yours narrow as he buries himself into your creamy hole. his eyes screw shut and he clenches a fistful of your ass, experiecing an overwhelming level of satisfaction as your walls grip onto his length. "nngh, i knew this pussy was made for me.." he grumbles, torso going slack as he leans forward, body laying against yours, with his cheek pressed against the back of your neck — without an ounce of concern for the cum on your back which was now surely staining his chest further.

"mhm, n' you fill me up so good." you mewl, squirming back against him and appreciating the inches of stimulation it brings you. you're given some time to adjust to his impressive length, stretching your stubborn walls to fit him inside you while he remained stagnant, body caving into yours as he savoured the moment.

" n' you're so fucking tight too.. you're like a dream come true." he droned in his usual monotone voice, "don't think i can ever pull out of you. this is where i belong. deep inside you." talk about pussy-drunk; this is the most talkative you've seen him so far.

it took one or two more agitated squirms before he figured out you were attempting to covertly ask for more. as much as he was enjoying himself cuddling into your back while balls-deep in your cunt, he straightening his posture and slowly begins to rock his hips into you. starting a reasonable and moderate pace, and working his way up until he was hurriedly slamming his cock into your pussy over and over.

a staggered cry emitted from your mouth with every harsh slap of his hips against yours ass, along with the cruel pierce of his length against yoru cervix. your whole body was rocked by his brutal force, and your tits swung in such an overt way — easily identifiable by a potential viewer.

"hah— yes, ke— kenma! right— there—" the breathy words stumbled out of you, accompanied by a high-pitched whine of pleasure. "no— no one's ever— mph, fucked me like this!"

"you're taking it so well, kitten." meanwhile, kenma's focus was zeroed in on your ass, watching it bounce against him as he pounded into your sopping hole repeatedly. the juices seeped out of you — an unholy mixture of precum, your wetness and his saliva — and culminated in a ring at the base of his cock.

your gummy walls swallowed him whole and took him so nicely. hugging every inch of his unloved cock and showing him the affection he deserved. so tight, and so good for him. it almost made him feel bad for mercilessly drilling into you. "just like that. stay just like that, pretty girl." he heaved, as his fingers idly trail up your thighs until they reach your folds, wherein he begins to rub and pinch at your clit.

it was all just so much. his expert fingers; his fat cock; his warm body against yours. plus, you were still sensitive from your previous two orgasms. the rigid knot was building up within you so quickly. your body was tensing and he could sense you were close from the way your walls clung to his unforgiving dick. "please, ke— enma. i'm so close, i'm so fucking close."

"shh. i know, baby. n' i'm going to take care of you. so just relax." his voice his shaky yet so calming and remorseful; in stark contrast to the way his dick keeping ploughing into you, relentlessly bullying your poor cervix and your aching little hole. this was serious, as reflected by the severe glint in his eyes; this means a lot more to him just some stupid video. he's a man on a mission.

his length ravaged your insides yet it was stroking all the right places, just as his hands caressed your thighs and ass. "such a good girl. can't believe this pussy's all mine."

with that, you tossed your head back and let pure bliss encapsulate your trembling body. your arms gave out from underneath you but the overwhelming pleasure coarsing through you distracted from the discomfort of your face hitting the mattress. despite how your cunt clamped down on him, kenma attempted to still fuck you through your high, but all he managed was a few feeble thrusts and a single stroke of your clit before he came undone inside you.

your moans bounced off the walls and filled the room. it was hard to cope with the conjestive feeling of his hot seed permeating your insides, but you were given time to lay down and recover. and soon, kenma's twitching body collapsed on top of you and joined you.

his dick was still buried in your stuffed pussy , and he was a bit heavy on top of you, but you were far too worn out to utter a complaint about it. instead, you just laid there and tried to catch your breath, flinching occasionally.

until you eventually spoke up, "that was a good demo. i think we've still got a lot of practising to do though, before we're ready to shoot the real thing."

"sure." he replied plainly.

there was a beat of silence between you, in which you could hear kenma still puffing for air. to lighten the mood, you ask, "by the way, what's with the nickname? 'kitten' ; i've never heard that one before."

"oh, do you not like it?"

"no, i don't mind it." you say defensively, "well, maybe you shouldn't use it during the final take, but it's not that bad. certainly new. never been called that before, which is pretty crazy considering guys online have called me plenty of unique nicknames: pumpkin, sugarplum, even honey muffin — but not kitten."

"hm, i think it just reminded me of you." he explains flatly, "but now that i think about it, i guess 'bunny' might've suited you more."

"hm, how come?"

"cos of your halloween costume. remember?"

"oh, yeah!" you giggle at the memory; the year you went as a bunny was certainly a wild one. gosh, it must've been ages ago now.. you think to yourself. and suddenly, your heart rate begins to increase as a realisation comes crashing down on you:

"huh, it's strange you know that, though. considering the only people who know about that costume are my friends, and the fifteen people who bought the pictures off my account."

shit.

#kenma smut #haikyuu smut #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #haikyuu time skip #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

445 notes · View notes

salemrph · 2 days ago

Text

Salt on your Skin

Summary: You’ve lived your whole life in a sleepy coastal village where nothing ever changes until he arrives. A stranger with silver hair. He shouldn’t matter. He’s just another tourist, just another passing face. But the way he looks you, the way he listens… it makes you feel seen in a way that terrifies you. Between the salt air, the mango-sweet afternoons, and his voice whispering promises you’re not ready to believe, you start to wonder: what if this forgotten place isn’t where your story ends, but where it begins?

Character: Sylus x f!reader / you

Gender — ☆ AU, romantic, fluff, intimacy, slow burn, slice of life, summer romance, sexual content (nsfw), smut with feelings, light angst, Hurt & Comfort

Word count: 19.7k | Reading Time: 77 min | AO3 Sorry that this thing is so fucking long.

🎧 "Salt on your Skin" Spotify Playlist -> A/N: You’ve waited long enough, I won’t keep you. I’ll be hinting at songs I listened to while writing certain scenes. If you don’t feel like pausing to click on each one, no worries—just hit play and enjoy. Sorry that it got so fucking long. It was my intention to create such long fanfic. *In this story, the character referred as "Reader" or "You" is from an unnamed cost village, the specific location isn't relevant to the story. While Spanish is the character's native language, and they mainly will speak it in the story, most of the dialogue will be presented in English for ease of reading. I just display thing in Spanish with translation, for funny moments and relevant emotional dialogue. Also I tried my best to catch the grammatical errors. (＞﹏＜)

Taglist: @blessdunrest @xxsyluslittlecrowxx @voidsylus @thechaoticarchivist @leftpoetrymoon @madam8 @stxrrielle @terriblesoup @mansonofmadness @leftpoetrymoon @jadeloverxd @nutshellera @zaynessdarling @sylusgirlie7 @mothlillies @deathrye @mansonofmadness @peascribbles @pdacex @eolivy

Salt on your Skin

🎧 "Salt on your Skin" Spotify Playlist

You grow up in a small fisherman village, south, nothing spectacular, nothing loud. Sun kissing your skin, salt tangled in your hair, the smell of the ocean was your everyday. Palms swayed lazily in the wind. Cactus grew wild by the roadside. The earth was dry, cracked in places, but always warm. Sand found its way into everything: your shoes, your sheets, your soul. Nothing ever really happened here. Nothing special, at least. Not many people cross this place, just the occasional wanderer and backpacker, drawn in by the silence, the stillness, the illusion of escape.

And it is beautiful. To the outsider, it’s paradise. A hidden postcard painted in blues and golds, for all who pass by and leave, carrying the souvenirs, the sand, and probably a peeling sunburn back to wherever they came from. But you? You never left. Maybe for college and for short trips not far away. You picked a degree because someone said it was practical—but what’s practical in a place where everything moves slowly and nothing ever changes? So you came back with a diploma in hand, a broken heart from some idiot and little by little, you buried your dreams. Right there beside the notebooks you used to fill with sketches of faraway cities and impossible futures. Right beside the plans you whispered under your breath when you still believed your life could unfold somewhere else.

Now you help your parents at the store or your work at the beach bar. You tell yourself it’s not so bad because it isn’t. This place raised you and cradled you. But sometimes… When the sun dips low and the air turns heavy with memory… You wonder what else your life could’ve been. You try not to want too much. Having dreams, in a place like this, is the first way you start to go crazy if they're too big. It feels so difficult to find the right way to break free.

Your days follow the rhythm of the tide. You wake with the sun, light slipping through the shutters in pale golden stripes, warming the terracotta tiles before your bare feet even touch the floor. Coffee first, always strong, slightly bitter, brewed in a tinny bialetti older than you. You sip it slowly in the kitchen where the radio was always on. The village is small enough that everyone knows your name, your business, and what you looked like in every awkward stage of growing up. You can’t walk five steps without a nod, a wave, or someone shouting:

“¡Dile a tu mamá que tengo listo su pedido” (“Tell your mom I have her order ready.”)

You smile and keep walking. You help out at the family store during the hotter hours. Selling sunscreen, postcards, cold drinks, cheap towels for tourists who forgot theirs. Sometimes you sit in the doorway fanning yourself with an magazine while your father tries to fix the old A/C and your mother swears in the background. And then there was your second job, unofficial but necessary. Since you've returned, you've been saving, for that eventual emergency plan, if your heart finally found the courage to leave. So you stand in that beach bar almost every day during the high season.

Plastic chairs half-buried in sand, a fridge that hums louder than the music, and drinks poured from memory. You know who likes extra lime. Who never tips. Who only comes to watch the sunset alone. It’s simple. Predictable. There’s comfort in that. But sometimes, when you’re rinsing out glasses or wiping sand off tables, you catch yourself watching the horizon. Something out there is calling you, something that still believes in the girl who once drew maps of cities she’s never seen. But then you shake it off. Because this is home. This is yours and if nothing ever changes…

Until that one afternoon.

Is hot like always, so you are wearing shorts and your bikini under the top. Ready to cool off whenever you need. Preparing some drinks, getting ice cubes and cleaning tables. That’s when you notice him. A tall man with sunglasses sitting at one table with an umbrella. He’s definitely going to get roasted with that skin color, you think. You know how tourists are so, you sigh but still you approach with cold iced water and place it in front of him. “If you stay long, please don't forget to use sunscreen. We have some here if you need.”

He just lifts his head slowly behind the lenses. And somehow, you feel like you’re the one under the sun now. He lifts the glass slowly, takes a sip, and sets it down and keeps watching the ocean. A moment later, you hear a soft, almost too quiet “Thank you”. That’s it.

Weird. You shrug it off. Tourists are strange sometimes. Some just want peace. Others… are well yeah just strange. You go back to refill the drinks fridge and emptying trash cans. Around this time of the year it can be a bit busy, but mostly on the weekends.

A breeze sweeps through, bringing the scent of seaweed and coconut sunscreen. You hum a little, a tune only half-formed, and focus on your tasks. Sometimes you dance behind the bar to some songs. Is a easy way to make the hours pass by and keep yourself busy. But today, a strange feeling doesn’t leave. That sensation that someone’s watching you. Not in a creepy way but more out of… curious.

Later, you bring drinks to another table, and when you glance back toward him, he’s still there. A notebook sits on this lap in front of him, he’s sketching or writing. You can’t quite tell. Odd choice for this heat. You observe him a bit longer, taking in the silver hair, the shape of his nose, the sharp jawline. The defined muscles along his arms; clearly a sporty guy. In the heat of the day, he’s wearing a black linen button-down shirt and long white pants. The view of him sinks deeper into your mind. One of the fancy tourists, no doubt. But… What does he do here?

A small smile appears on his face. Did he write something funny? You pause mid-step, pretending to adjust the tray in your hands, but your eyes flick toward him again. The pen in his hand stills for a heartbeat. It stirs something in you. Curiosity takes over you with persistent. You wonder what kind of thoughts live in that notebook. You’re about to turn back when he lifts his eyes from the paper and shifts slightly toward you, propping one elbow on the table and resting his head against his hand.

“¿Creciste aquí?” (“You grew up here?”)

It catches you off guard. Did he just speak your language?

“Sí” (“Yeah, I do,”) you reply, the words came out slow, drawn out by your confusion.

He closes the notebook, the pen slipping between the pages. His sunglasses stay on, but you can feel the weight of his gaze.

“Debe ser genial” (“Must be nice,”) he says, almost wistful. “Crecer con el océano como tu patio trasero.” (“To grow up with the ocean as your backyard.”)

The comment was harmless but… your eyes were still on him, searching for an accent you don’t hear. No, there wasn’t any. It was like he’d lived here his whole life, like he’d sat on these plastic chairs a hundred times, melting under the sun, playing cards with the elders, gossiping with the ladies, and running barefoot through the sand as a child. But you’ve never seen him before.

The air shifts. There’s something about him you can’t place. Maybe you should take a break and get some water. You cross your arms, standing your ground. “Are you just passing through?”

He smiles “Something like that.”

That wasn't an answer, definitely not a straight one.

“Honestly, you look more like someone who belongs at a luxury resort than in a remote place like this.” Ups… That was a bit too direct. You tilt your head, trying to be a bit more polite this time. “Well, there is not much to see here. I hope you enjoy the quietness though.”

He laughed, and finally takes off his sunglasses. You get lost in his eyes: red, deep, impossible. Like twilight caught in glass. The world seems to slow. The wind rises slightly, brushing against your skin like a whisper, stirring the salt and sunlight around you. You got trapped for a moment that felt more like an eternity. The intensity of his eyes. You blink a few times. You decide to ignore whatever is fluttering in your chest. Your shift just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

“You got a name?” you ask with an arrogant tone, your chin tilted just enough to make it a challenge.

He smirks. “Depends who's asking.”

You roll your eyes. Of course he’s flirting. You know how this goes, always some smooth-talking tourist thinking the local girl is part of the experience: “Wild, free and exotic women.” You could throw up.

Not going to insist if he is that kind of guy…

You huff and turn away as the manager calls you, yelling for more napkins or limes or whatever crisis the little storage shed has today. By the time you come back, the man is gone. A bit irritated, you finished your shift. You wanted to know his name, because those eyes will be hard to forget. But in the end, it's another tourist that comes and goes, so who cares?

Only… The next day, he’s there again. Same chair. Same sunglasses. Same notebook.

You try not to react. Just grab a tray of drinks and keep your head down. But you feel it, the burn of his attention. The strange, steady way he watches you without saying a word, like he’s reading a story only he can see written on your skin. You can’t exactly kick him out. To be fair, he’s not doing anything wrong. Just sitting there, quiet and scribbling in a worn leather-bound notebook. He never bothered you with more words than necessary, just with his simple order.

He returns the day after, and the next one too. Day after day.

You’d notice another group of girls, tourists with their bright bikinis and confident smiles, approach his table once more. Was it already the third time today? They'd lean in, their voices a little too loud, trying to flirt, trying to get his number.

Bored behind the bar, the clinking of glasses and the distant murmur of waves providing a dull backdrop, you'd watch the scene unfold. You'd find yourself absentmindedly munching on some salty peanuts, watching how the girls creatively or rather uncreatively tried to get from him some kind of reaction. But he never paid them much attention. He'd just offer a polite, almost distant smile, and then his gaze would drift past them, straight across the sunlit space, directly to you. It was as if he knew you were enjoying the theater.

This time, he finally gets up, placing the exact amount for his drinks on the counter. He could at least tip me… Asshole. With a casual wave, he said, “See you tomorrow,” before disappearing into the shimmering heat of the afternoon. You hate how that makes something flicker in your chest.

By the fifth day, it’s getting under your skin. You don't even know why it bothers you so much. More than one tourist has spent several days in a row at this bar, but he's different somehow. They can call you crazy, but you have the distinct feeling that he's coming to see you.

“Okay,” you mutter to yourself after drying off your arms behind the bar. “What’s your deal, big guy?” you turn around to him. He catches your eyes. Notebook in hand walking toward you.

“I'm just enjoying the sunshine. Is that a crime, sweetie? ” His voice is smooth, playful. He’s testing you.

You straighten your back. “Don’t call me that.”

He grins, tilting his head. “Then tell me your name.”

You don’t blink. “No.”

He chuckles and shrugs, like that settles it. “Sweetie, it stays.”

“Does that line usually work on all girls?”

He raises a brow, leaning one elbow casually on the bar. “Which girls?”

“Like the ones from yesterday,” you scoff. “Bet you tell all of them they’re special.”

His smile falters for half a second.

“I don’t like wasting my time,” he states, a hint of challenge in his tone. “Are you jealous?”

You want to roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. You want to mock his question. But the unexpected flutter in your gut throws you off. Instead, with a frustrated sigh, you toss a dish towel onto the counter and turn away. Organizing the glasses on the shelf. “Order something or move, I’ve stuff to do.”

“You always talk to your clients like that?” he asked casually.

You pause for a moment. Damn him. “Well, you don’t have to flirt with me to get your coffee.” You muttered, your tone as flat as you could manage. There’s a beat of silence. Then, you hear the faintest scoff, more breath than sound. You glance over your shoulder, just enough to catch the slow curve of his mouth. His eyes glint with amusement.

“Who said it was flirting?” He tilts his head. You were already regretting giving him a reaction.. “But…” His voice dips lower, velvet and sin. “...would you like to see the difference, sweetie?”

Your heart stutters. You scoffed and you pretended not to hear the pet name. And marched off to clean a nonexistent stain on the espresso machine before he could see the flush climbing up your checks. For the rest of the day, you cursed him. And cursed yourself most of all for almost wanting to ask what the difference would feel like.

On your day off, you try not to think about him. Really. You swear you don’t care. You’re just… curious. That’s all. Wondering, maybe, if he showed up again. You imagine him sitting there, legs crossed, sunglasses on, notebook open like always. Maybe he’s gone. Maybe he finally got bored of this sleepy place and your uneven service. That would be good, right? Maybe that means your brain can shut up now.

I shouldn't care.

You grab your towel, a bottle of cold water, and your favourite pair of flip-flops and head out. Not to the main beach where the kids yell and the old ladies gossip under their hats. No. You take the winding dirt trail, sun on your back, cactus needles lining the path like prickly guards. You duck under hanging branches and hop down the rocky slope, slipping once like always and catching yourself just in time. It's a longer walk, but getting there is...

...is, your little secret. The cove. Small, quiet, framed by cliffs and half-hidden by palms. It feels like a pool but big enough to swim. The ocean is glass today, turquoise and endless. You drop your towel on the warm rock, kick off your flip flops and remove your clothes. This… this is yours. No tourists. No bosses. No strange men with sharp smiles and too many secrets. You dive in, the water cold and perfect, wrapping around you like silk. You swim out until the world goes quiet. Just the splash of your limbs and the lull of the tide.

You turn toward the shore, slick hair clinging to your neck, water dripping down your back. You’re just about to wade out... You freeze. There he is. Sitting on the rocks, on your rocks. You grip the edge of a stone, still in the water. You can't be serious. Of all the places in this world, on this piece of earth, exactly at the same moment as you're here…

“How?” you demand, brows furrowed.

He barely moves, still perched like a damn king on your favourite spot, one leg stretched out, the other bent. White T-shirt and shorts this time, sea breeze tugging at the hem. Of course he looks good. Too good. Effortless.

“How what?” he asks, tilting his head just slightly so the sun hits the curve of his jaw. He doesn’t even take the sunglasses off.

“This place,” you snap. “How do you know about this place?”

“It’s easy when you can talk to people or…” He pulls out his phone and waves it lightly. “You know, you use social media.”

You click your tongue, annoyed. Probably some old tagged picture from a local, maybe even one of yours. Is it really just coincidence and bad luck?

“Fuck you,” you mutter, more at yourself than him. You can’t blame him. But gods, it stings. You embarrassed yourself yesterday, thinking he was flirting with you and now you have to see his face on your day-off. This is a punishment.

He grins. “I could leave, if it bothers you but you’ll have to say please.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You say without hesitation.

He laughed lazily. “I have heard that a few times.”

You climb out of the water, dripping and fierce, and march right past him, snatching your towel. Drying off your face. “You’re ruining my sacred space,” you declare.

“Sacred, huh?” he murmurs, still watching you. “Didn’t mean to trespass on holy ground. Either way, since I’m here…” He flips open the notebook. “Mind that I stay a bit more? It was a long walk.”

You pause. Half wrapped in irritation and a very dangerous, very inconvenient curiosity. In all the years finding a tourist here, in your place was extremely rare. Some of your friends and people of the village used this place as well. But in the end, most of the time, you're alone here.

“Do whatever you want,” you mutter, turning your back on him as you dig through your bag for your diver goggles. You don’t look at him again.

You slip the goggles over your head, adjust the strap, and wade back into the water. As soon as you dive, the world changes. The sun dims, the sea hums around you, and everything slows. Fish dart between rocks, flashes of silver and blue. You follow them deeper into the cove, letting the water strip away the heat of his gaze, the smugness of his voice. Down here, it’s just you. Every so often, you surface for air, and he’s still there. Legs stretched out, notebook resting on his knee, watching you like you’re some rare creature he stumbled across and hasn’t figured out if he should leave alone or chase.

The coral shimmered beneath you like a dream, sunbeams piercing the water in long, golden threads. Tiny silver fish darted between sea fans, and swaying anemones moved in slow, hypnotic rhythms. You floated there, suspended in the hush, arms outstretched, breath held tight in your lungs, letting the stillness soak into your bones. Being in the water makes you feel free. All these creatures can swim, leave, and be wherever they want. They migrate without fear, camouflaging themselves with the seabed. You are jealous of such a level of freedom.

Distracted by your own thoughts, you didn't notice the shadow approaching. You turned your head, and there, gliding just a few meters away, was a massive stingray. Its wings undulated as it passed, alarmingly close. You gasped for air. Big mistake.

Saltwater rushed in, burning your throat. You kicked upward, desperate for air, but your limbs felt slow, heavy, panic clawing at your chest. A strong hand wrapped around your arm. You broke the surface with a choking gasp, coughing hard as you ripped your goggles off. You barely noticed you were trembling, clinging to whoever had you, water spilling from your lips.

“Are you okay?” His voice was close.

You nodded through the coughing, breathing in hard, rough gulps. “Y-Yeah… yeah.”

When you finally look up, you don’t find the lazy smirk he always wears. Concern, drawn across his face like a shadow. His brows are furrowed, mouth slightly parted, as if he wants to say something but doesn’t know where to start. His gaze searched your face.

Your mouth parted, breath still shaky, and for a moment, you forgot how to form words. He tilted his head slightly, still holding your arm. You were too close. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. Close enough to see the drop of seawater sliding down his neck, tracing the sharp line of his collarbone. You almost lean in, just a little. The impulse hits you fast and stupid, heat rising too quick. You squirm in his arms, suddenly aware of every inch between you.

You clear your throat and pull away. He lets go without a word, and you swim back toward the rocky entrance with the energy left you had. You haul yourself out, grabbing your towel and slipping on your shorts. Your heart’s pounding, angry and confused. You want to leave. Double strike. Not only did you embarrass yourself, but he had also saved your life from drowning. If he hadn't showed up… You stopped.

Fuck… I owe him my life.

That makes you turn in the exact moment when the sun catches his skin as he walks out of the sea. He runs a hand through his wet hair, squeezing the water out with a slow drag of his fingers. In his other hand, he holds a pair of diving goggles. You were damn right, gods, were you right. Now that he’s standing there in nothing but swim shorts, there’s no doubt about it. His body is sculpted.

Shoulders broad, chest defined, muscles honed from more than just casual swimming. The drops trace delicate lines down his torso, catching the light, glinting like it’s showing off for you. You blink. Your eyes shamelessly are scanning him. He has such a big ass and if that's big, what about his...? You glaze dropped briefly over his crotch. Just a glimpse and then you drag your eyes back up to somewhere safe, somewhere less dangerous at least.

“Thank you,” you say almost too low “For helping me...” You hesitate.

“No need to thank me.” You started coughing again. He made you sit down and handed you your bottle of water. Having him so close, you realized he looked worried. So you hadn't imagined it before. You should worry about yourself, but your eyes couldn't stop scanning his features. Yes, his nose really was beautiful. The length of his eyelashes, the faint dark circles under his eyes. Was it because he didn't sleep well, or were they natural? What did he even do? Was he some kind of businessman? No, he looked more like a model. Thousands of questions crossed your mind…

It's not your business.

But still...

“How can I compensate you?” you asked, finally recovered.

He paused, then took his own towel, draping it around his neck. “Help me explore this place.”

“The village?” you asked surprised by such an absurd request. “There’s nothing to explore.”

“There is,” he replies, calm as ever.

You frowned. “What would that be? This place has like… three alleys and a very enthusiastic goat.”

“Sweetie, isn’t exploration what you do when you don’t know what you’re looking for?” There it was again, that smug little note in his voice.

“You always talk like that?”

His smirk sharpened, eyes glinting with mischief. “Do you always look at someone’s crotch?”

Your mouth fell open, he noticed. You straightened, refusing to give him the satisfaction to admit that you did it. “Fine, I’ll be your guide.”

He smirked, unabashedly pleased. “Good. So, should I stick with Sweetie or start to calling you Miss Guide now?”

You shot him a dry look, already turning away. “Try it, and I’ll kick you off a cliff.”

He laughed, unbothered. A beat passed, your steps crunching against the sand. “How should I call you?”

“Sylus,” he said simply.

You nod, repeating it silently in your head.

Sylus.

And for some reason, hearing it made something shift—this is like the opening page of a fresh new book. And you’ve never been great at turning down a good story.

Days pass like waves and a little too easy to get lost in.

At first, you meant to show him the typical tourist stops—the scenic overlook, the main plaza, that one beach every guidebook lists first. But after the second spot, he leaned close and said, “I’ve seen all of these before. Try harder, sweetie.” So you started to improvise.

You showed him the old boat wreck tucked behind the rocks, half-sunken, forgotten by time, but not by you. The kind of place only someone who’s grown up here would know. Then came the spot with the best grilled fish and amazing fresh fruit juice, and the owner who winked at you every time like she knew something you didn’t. You take him to the cliffs no one climbs but you, another one of your secret places to scream into the wind and feel free. He stands at the edge, hands in pockets, peering down like he’s measuring how far he’d fall. Asking if you were really going to kick off the cliff. “It’s still an option,” you muttered, but your lips betrayed you with a smile.

Both walked down to the pier, where the old fishermen had already settled in for the morning, as they always were, lined up with their tattered hats and leathery skin, smoking, drinking cheap beer, swapping stories that blurred the line between memory and myth. It was also one of the best spots to jump into the water when the tide was right.

Sylus seemed genuinely interested in their fishing; leaning in, asking questions, even tossing out a few jokes that made one of the men laugh. You watched him exchange words with ease. If he was one of those rich types, shouldn’t he have more expensive hobbies? Golf, yachts, or something with polished marble and champagne? One of the old men turned toward you suddenly, his voice rough with years and sea air.

“Me agrada tu amigo” (I like your friend!) he shouted, grinning through missing teeth and raising his beer in salute.

Sylus, just slips into your days without ever asking to. It was stupid how easily he fit into the cracks of your life. He starts waiting until your shift ends, arms crossed, a lazy smile on his lips like this is normal. It's definitely making your days more entertaining, if it weren't for the fact that the neighborhood is starting to notice. Of course they do; someone always does. You ignore the comments as best you can.

“¿Quién es ese muchacho tan guapo con el que anda?” (Who is that handsome boy you are walking with?)”

“He’s paying me to be his guide.” You said to the people every now and then. It’s not a lie. It’s also not the truth. You don’t explain more. You don’t want to. This town is small and whatever this is between you and him, it’s yours. Reacting too much to the gossip spreading like gunpowder, would only lead to more of them. You really don't want to start a fire.

“Who said I'm paying you?” he leaned closer, an amused murmur in your ear as he caught your quiet deflection.

“Be quiet and let me handle the gossip,” you hissed back, not breaking your stride.

“I'm fine with that, but under one condition.” You stopped mid-stride, your heart giving a nervous jump. He smiled and tugged you a bit closer. “You can't lie to me.”

“Why would I do that?” You tried for nonchalance, but your voice felt thin.

“Well, if you lie…” He stopped, turning dramatically toward the group of old ladies playing cards. They were perfectly set up in the shade in front of one of their houses, colorful hand fans fluttering against the heat, their eyes already on you.

Oh no.

“¡Señoras, soy su nov—!” (Ladies, I'm his boyf—)

“Shut up!” You lunged, grabbing his shirt, the fabric bunching in your fist. Panic flared in your chest. You could see your entire calm world shatter, crackling into chaos, if he blurted out something like that. “Fine, fine! I won't lie to you.”

“Smart decision, sweetie.” His smile widened, all innocent charm, but his eyes held a glint of triumph.

You let go. “Asshole,” you murmured back.

You pretended not to notice but it’s the little things. The flutter moments that sneak past your defenses and settle under your skin. The way he always calls you sweetie. He knows it annoys you, but says it anyway, just to watch that fire light in your eyes. How he's always too close. A finger under your chin, forcing your gaze when you try to escape his. You tell yourself it's annoying. You tell yourself you don't enjoy it.

You reminded yourself, every time he brushed against you “by accident,” every time he leaned just a little too close to whisper something entirely unnecessary. You reminded yourself of it especially when your heart started beating too fast in his presence, when your body began to crave that warmth. You were just enjoying the game while it lasted. A little spark. A little summer mischief. That was all this was. Because people like him… They didn’t stay. He was a tourist, and the charming ones always knew how to play his cards. They were all promises but vanished at the end of summer. And you? You wouldn’t be stupid about this. You weren’t going to fall.

...Right?

One night, you're sitting on the sand, barefoot, toes buried, only a small flame between you, driftwood fire crackling soft, heat licking your knees. The stars are bright, the kind of sky you only get in places forgotten by noise. You tilt your head and catch him watching you. The shadows from the fire dance across his face, making it harder to read his expression.

“Do I have something on my face?” you ask.

His lips twitch. “Yeah. Starlight.”

“Sure...” You shift a bit. “Are you ever going to tell me what you’re doing here?”

He exhales, slow, like he’s been waiting for that question. But instead of answering, he says:

“What do you dream about?”

It doesn’t surprise you. He always does this, twisting the conversation back to you. You stare into the fire. You think about it and somehow he has this calm way to let you pour out your heart. Without judgement, he listens or asks how you feel about everything. About how you wanted to leave, once. How you almost did. About books you read and lifes you imagined. About how sometimes peace tastes like salt… And sometimes, it tastes like regret.

You could talk with him for hours, discuss thousands of scenarios like you've never done with anyone before. It feels like the dirty gears of those buried dreams are being dusted off with each word he said. Sylus tells you some stories about what he has seen, eaten and experienced already. He points out the things you would like, places he would show you. The collection of vinyl he has, how he enjoys playing the piano. The familiarity he has with you is overwhelming. He teases you, makes you angry, he flickers his finger against your forehead when you say something stupid. He has been even helping you with everyday chores like the other day:

The market is buzzing. Colorful umbrellas flapping in the breeze, baskets full of delicious fruits and vegetables stacked in uneven towers, the scent of grilled spices and fish so rich it makes you hungry on the spot. You weave through it like you always do, with a tote bag swinging at your side. Sylus is less graceful, dodging kids with sticky fingers and getting bumped more than once by old ladies with strong elbows. He clearly doesn't like to be in the crowd.

“You sure you know where you’re going?” he teases, glancing at your bag. “Or are we just wandering until you collect enough mangoes for a year?”

“I always know where I’m going,” you reply smugly. “And don’t judge my mango obsession. They're better than whatever bitter fruit you probably grew up with.”

“I prefer oranges.” He plucks one mango from a pile and holds it up, golden and soft. “This one’s bruised.”

“Don't be so picky. That means it’s perfect,” you snatch it from his hand. “Bruised fruits are sweeter. You know nothing.”

He laughed. “Teach me, then.” He buys one cup with fresh cut fruit at the same stall and spears a piece with a toothpick. He chews, then nods thoughtfully. “You’re right. They are perfect.” Your stomach growls, loud enough to make you wince.

Sylus glances at you, then casually offers the cup, holding it out. “Do you want some?”

You hesitate for a second, somehow it feels more intimate than it should. But then you take the offered bite. Your fingers brush his and his gaze lingers, just a moment too long.

“You like it?” he asks, voice softer now.

You nod, chewing. You try not to smile as you pay for the mangoes. Before your hand even reaches your wallet, Sylus slips in, handing over the change to the vendor. You narrow your eyes, but he’s already walking. By the time you're heading back toward home, your tote is filled with groceries, the fruit cup now shared between you, and the sun is heavy over your shoulders. Sylus walks beside you, glancing at his phone for a moment, then back at you.

“I need a moment,” he says, stepping under the awning of a closed stall, voice already lowering as he answers a call. You nod and wait a few steps ahead, settling into the shade of a tree with a sigh, adjusting the straps on your bag.

Minutes later a tourist approaches, clearly lost, holding a map and trying to look confident.

“Hi! Sorry… Em… do you know how to get to Playa Baja?”

“Yeah,” you say, automatically switching into your helpful voice. “Go back to the main road. Take the bus from there, near the bakery. Is a 20 minutes ride.”

He grins. “Thanks! You’re local, huh? Makes sense, only locals are this kind.”

You laugh politely. “Sure.”

But before he could say more, the tourist glanced over your shoulder, and he caught Sylus’s stare. He backed off quickly with a smile faltering, then cleared his throat and stepped back. “Enjoy your day.” And disappears as quickly as it appeared.

Sylus stands there, phone now tucked away.

“Huh. That was fast,” you say.

He shrugs. “Wasn’t important.”

You finally reached your house and the family store below it, the familiar babble of domestic chaos greeted you before the front door even opened.

“Just buy another one, you stubborn old man!” your mother’s voice echoed from the back.

“No, this one’s fine!” your father snapped, followed by a loud Clank Clank, as he smacked the side of the ancient A/C unit again.

You sighed and pushed the door open. “Really? Still fighting over that thing?”

The store was warm, stuffy, and smelled faintly of dust and cleaning spray. You dropped the bags on the kitchen table with a loud thud before stepping into the shop. Sylus follows you silently, scanning the familiar chaos with calm eyes.

“¡No puedo más!” (“I can’t take it anymore!”) your mother snapped from behind the counter, wiping sweat from her forehead with a dish towel. “Tell your father to buy a new one before he sets the store on fire.”

You sighed. At the sound of another figure entering with you, both of your parents looked up. Your mother’s gaze immediately fixed on Sylus. She blinked, surprised, eyes traveling from his silver hair down to his clean, fancy clothes, pausing on his calm expression. A stranger in her home and he comes with you? Not common. But as always, she gathered herself fast. Her tone shifted.

“Excuse us for the shouting,” she said quickly, brushing her hair back. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Her eyes met Sylus’s, just for a moment, and something changed in her face. A flicker of quiet recognition, curiosity… Then she turned to you, wandered over with a little smile playing on her lips.

Oh no, she's already imagining things.

You rub your eyes. That mother smile. The one that knew too much and said nothing for now. Sylus very politely and kindly declined your mother's invitation, then he stepped closer to where your father stood grumbling beside the A/C unit.

“Mind if I take a look?” he offered casually, nodding toward the old machine.

Your father blinked at him, thrown off, giving space and the screwdriver. “¿De dónde sacaste a este muchacho?” (“Where did you get this boy?”) he whispered to you.

You smirked. “Me ha estado siguiendo como gato callejero. Creo que me ha cogido cariño.” (“He's been following me around like a stray cat. I think he likes me.”)

Your dad huffed a laugh, still eyeing Sylus like he wasn’t sure whether to be suspicious or impressed. He stays by your side, arms crossed, ready to judge every move Sylus made. The machine was old, rusted at the edges, and had a habit of rattling like it was possessed by a ghost. Most people wouldn’t dare touch it without at least cursing first. He knelt beside it, examined the wires and casing with quiet concentration, then reached into the toolbox without asking where anything was.

There was a soft click, a sharp spark, and then the hum. Not the loud, wheezing death-rattle it usually made. A smooth, low vibration and cool air drifted out. Everyone froze. Your father blinked and moved to press his hand to the front of the unit like he couldn’t believe it was real.

Sylus stood, brushing dust from his hands. “It’ll work for now,” he said casually, glancing at your dad. “But you should definitely buy a new one.”

Your father opened his mouth, probably to argue but stopped.

“¿Una cerveza, muchacho?” (“A beer, boy?”) he asked, already moving toward the fridge. “Por lo menos para agradecerte.” (“At least to thank you.”)

“And you’re staying for dinner,” your mother added before Sylus could respond, her voice final, already thinking about the menu she would display tonight. “Is there anything you don't like to eat?”

“Mamá…” you said in a tired tone, shaking your head.

“We need to thank him properly,” she chirped.

Sylus hesitated, looking between them, then over at you, as if silently pleading for a way out. But you just smiled, leaning against the counter with one eyebrow raised, thoroughly enjoying the moment. Your father was already asking for a detailed explanation of how the miracle worked. And if he also knew how to fix cars.

“Looks like you’ve been adopted,” you said sweetly. “Good luck.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, but there was a flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You expected him to fumble—thought he’d slip up on the names, or get awkward answering your dad’s too-bold questions. You wanted him to flinch a little, if only for your own petty satisfaction. But somehow, he didn’t. He was smooth and polite. Your mother was enchanted in less than ten minutes, practically glowing every time he addressed her with a soft “señora.” And when he mentioned liking fishing? Your father lit up like it was Christmas morning.

You sat there in quiet horror as your dad leaned back in his chair, nodding thoughtfully. “Lo quiero como yerno.” (“I want him as a son-in-law.”) You nearly choked on your water. Your soul left your body.

“Papá…!”

Sylus set his glass down gently and said, perfectly composed, “We don’t have that kind of relationship” Then, with the faintest trace of dry amusement, he added, “She actually threatened to push me off a cliff earlier.”

Your dad let out a booming laugh. “That’s love!”

Your mother gasped and you slumped in your chair, face in hands, absolutely done.

Later, when the plates were cleared and your parents had gone off to debate which neighbour had the best tomatoes this year, you tugged Sylus out onto the back porch. The sky was a soft indigo now, stars starting to blink awake. Crickets chirped. The kind of summer night that made everything feel special.

You leaned against the railing, arms crossed. “Don’t listen to anything my dad said.”

Sylus leaned next to you, hands in his pockets, lips twitching with amusement. “What, about wanting me as a son-in-law?”

“Yes, that.” You groaned. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was... funny” His voice softened. “And... nice. Being around that much love. The way he looks at you. The way your mom knew you were lying about not being hungry.” He smiled faintly. “It’s loud, chaotic—and kind of wonderful.”

You glanced up at him, and something in his eyes made your chest ache.

“They raised you well,” he added quietly.

You tried to brush it off, but your voice cracked slightly. “How was your childhood?”

“Different.” He looked out into the trees. “I struggled to survive.”

You nodded, unsure what to say. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

"Don’t be." He patted you head, his voice was strangely comforting.

“Well, you can always come back,” you offered, suddenly nervous, removing his hand embarrassed. “They’ll be happy to see you again.”

He turned, eyes finding yours.

“And you?” he asked.

“Eh?”

“If I leave… would you be sad?” Your stomach flipped. But instinct kicked in, and you played it off with a shrug. True... He will leave...

“Not unless you start tipping me at the bar.”

He chuckled. “Is that so?”

“And also, you shouldn’t drink every day either. You’ll die young.”

He turned to fully face you now, clearly amused. “Oh? So now you’re worried about me?”

You tried to hide your smile. Sylus laughed softly, but you could still see the warmth in his eyes.

Under all that tension. Your feeling is accumulating points of reward each time he leans in too close. When he hands you over a bottle of cold water. When he pulls out the chair before you sit in the restaurant or when he lets you use his lap as pillows to sleep on the beach. And in those moments when you see his smile, like now, under the flicking bonfire and his features are so soft as clouds drifting over the sky. You wish you had never met him because one day, probably soon… he’ll be gone. You should’ve known better.

The ache in your chest is already blooming. Not sure if you won’t be able to bury it after he leaves, you choose the only thing you can. Make the moment yours before it’s gone. You stand, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt, peeling off layers of doubt with every piece of clothing. The air is warm, soft against your exposed skin. The flame crackles behind you, but the sea calls louder.

“I’m going to swim,” you say, calm, even if your pulse isn’t. You glance back over your shoulder, half naked by now. “Coming?”

He blinks, just once, surprised. But that smirk; god, that infuriating smirk; returns quickly.

“You’re bold,” he says, shacking his head but his hand catches your arm gently, his glowing red eyes hold you in place. “Are you sure?”

You raise an eyebrow. “About swimming? Yeah.” You know he is not asking about that.

The last piece of clothing drops to the sand. You walk into the water, until it's covert over your naked body and you submerge yourself entirely. He follows, doing the same. You can feel him behind you before you even turn. His fingers, tracing the curve of your back, a feather light touch that sends shivers up your spine.

“What is your deepest desire?” You hesitate. You could lie. You’ve lied before but somehow, with him, it feels… pointless. He sees through it already. “Sweetie,” he says, his breath hot against your neck. “Don’t lie to me.”

“…I want to leave this place,” you admit. His hand holds yours beneath the water, while his arm wraps around your waist.

“Why haven’t you?” he asks.

You stare out at the horizon, the darkness of the night merge with the ocean, and the stars shimmer almost on the water. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m afraid.”

“What would you do?” His voice is closer now. Lips brushing your wet hair.

“I want to see the world,” you whisper, lifting your free hand toward the sky as if you could touch the stars. “I want to know what it feels like to really live.”

He presses his lips on your shoulder. “I can give you that.”

You huff, half a laugh, half a shield. “Yeah, sure. Is that a promise… or just another pick-up line?”

His fingers tilt your chin gently toward him. His lips graze your cheek, your ear. You close your eyes briefly enjoying the prickling sensations of him, of your feeling surfing over your skin.

“Don’t lie to me,” you echo back.

“I’m not,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your cheek, lingering as it slides over your lower lip with the faintest pressure. Your mouth parts instinctively, you feel the urge to chase his thumb with your tongue, but you hold back. His gaze locks onto yours. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

His thumb rests there a heartbeat longer, then trails down, tracing your jaw, your neck. You turn toward him slowly, pulse climbing, not sure if you're bracing for something or hoping for it. Sylus just pulls you a touch closer, fingertips resting at your waist, holding you steady. He leaned in, slowly, giving you a few agonizing seconds to pull away. You could still stop this. He’s giving you the chance.

The kiss it’s not like in the stories. It’s not gentle. It’s every unsaid thing burning behind your ribs. You melt into it before you even realize. Fingers gripping his shoulders, heart racing like it’s trying to escape your chest. You didn’t want this. You didn’t mean to want him. But his mouth fits too easily, and your resolve slips, undone by the sheer gravity of wanting. And your soul be damned, suddenly, all the rules you'd set for yourself over years: no feelings, no attachments, no hopes… Shatter with the fire inside your chest. Fuck. You don’t want him to leave and that terrifies you more than anything.

Sylus was hungry for you, that much was clear. He kissed you then with an intensity that doesn't match what you were expecting. You’ve met selfish lovers before. Men who touched you like a reward, a prize, like they earned your body just by showing up. Sylus let you lead. And when you kissed him deeper, testing limits, pressing your bare body against him in the water, feeling how hard he was. His grip tightened at your waist, drawing you closer until there’s no space left. Yet he still didn’t cross the line. He wanted to, you felt it. You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hard cock pressing on your belly, and your body burned with desire. Your hand wrapped around him, the impressive length and thickness of him filling your palm, even through the water. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you stroked him, pulling him further into the kiss. Your tongues met with a urgent dance as they swirled and tangled, exploring every curve of each other's mouths. His hand, now tangled in your wet hair, pulled your head back slightly, deepening the angle of the kiss even further.

Then, with a soft, ragged breath escaping him, he broke the kiss. His eyes were heavy with unspoken longing. “As much as I desire you. I want to give you more than just this…” His voice was low, aching with restraint, as he gently removed your hand from his length. Then he kissed you—deeply—like he needed you to know how much he wanted you, how much he was holding back. Yet, he still made you dress and walked you home in silence and left you at the door. He kissed your hands, then pressed another, lingering kiss on your temple, and whispered a soft “Good night”.

The ceiling fan carved the silence in soft, slow turns. Outside, the ocean whispered secrets to the rocks. A dog barked once, far off, then silence settled again. The air carried the scent of sea and distant charcoal fires into his room.

Sylus sat on the edge of the bed in his rented apartment, your kiss still ghosting his lips. The notebook lay open in his lap, pages filled with observations only he would understand. His handwriting wound through sketches, your fingers curled around a drink, the curve of your smile when you weren’t watching, the weightless joy that flickered in your laugh. He stared for a while at the half-finished line, heart heavy with a feeling he hadn’t expected to grow so fast, so deep.

“You kissed me with your whole heart trembling in your chest, and I felt every piece of it trying to crawl into mine.”

Sylus hadn’t meant to kiss you tonight. His fingers dragged slowly across his lower lip. He closed his eyes, replaying the moment in silence. Your skin against his, the sound you made when his hand slid to your waist. The way you leaned in, offering more than kisses. You would’ve given him everything if he’d let you. But he stopped it. He breathed through the tightness in his throat. He wanted more than just the heat of a passionate night. More than a fleeting moment tangled in sheets and whispers. He wanted your yes in daylight. He wanted your smile with no hesitation behind it.

The pen hovered. He turned to a fresh page.

“I wanted to give in. To drown in you, in that moment, in everything we both tried to silence. But if I touch you like that… if I let go… I want it to mean something neither of us can take back.”

His jaw clenched. His heartbeat had yet to settle.

“I don’t want to be a moment you regret. You deserve love that doesn’t ask you to run. So I’ll wait. Even if my hands ache from not holding you. I’ll wait, because I already know what I want. I want you.”

He set the pen down gently, running his thumb along the notebook’s inner spine. The ceiling fan is still slicing the dark above him. And though the bed was empty, every part of him was still holding you, still feeling the shape of your body against his. Sylus leaned back, letting the notebook rest against his chest.

[Notebook]

“You called me arrogant today but your face was all red. Later, you walked closer. Closer than you usually do. You’re so cute.”

[pressed hard into the paper]

“If I ever could taste the salt of your skin on my lips…”

[Margin note, stained with coffee]

“I tried not to watch your mouth when you called my name.”

[With a small cat sketch]

“Sometimes you act like a cat… Probably I can lure you with mangos and a feather. I should start to call you Kitten.”

He hadn’t planned to stay this long in your town. But his soul was already settled down to your side. He came here for a reason… Something he hasn't told you yet but he hopes to do soon. For now, you made the days longer in the best way. And the nights? They stretched on without you. His gaze drifted toward the dark window, where the reflection of his own silhouette blurred with the night beyond. How long could he stay here? Another week? Maybe two weeks? Could he pretend, just a little longer?

The phone buzzed softly against the table. Its glow carved a cold line through the room.

Kieran.

Work never stayed quiet for long. He looked down at the page again, absently tapping the pen against the margin. The light of the phone blinked again. He turned it face down. Let the darkness swallow it.

“Not tonight,” he murmured.

Tonight, Sylus wants to stay in the dream a little longer.

You didn’t sleep much that night. Your mind was racing, what a strange man. No, Sylus isn’t like other men. Since that night, not much has changed. He still shows up at the bar. He still ordered his usual, except that the amount of alcohol had decreased. He walks you to your home after your shift and takes you to some new corner of this forgotten coastline. Some days it’s a long lunch in a neighbouring village, sharing fried fish and watching old fishermen untangle their nets. Other days it’s a walk through ruins or abandoned train tracks where he tells you stories that feel like lies but you can’t quite call him out on them.

You'd spent afternoons together where he’d saved your life, snorkeling together in the cove. You'd watched fish drift by, swum alongside turtles. But beneath the surface of those moments, the intensity between you had grown, a horrible static electricity building, filled with desire and agonising restraint. Yet, you haven't kissed again or he hasn't tried it either. You really want to taste that fire once more on his lips, desperately, but the fear of getting hooked overwhelms you in those moments and yet, amidst all the tension, he keeps your close.

A few days later, just after you’d flipped the last chair onto the table and wiped your hands on a dish towel, you found him leaning against the counter. “I need to head into the city tomorrow,” he said, voice casual, but something in his tone tugged at your attention. “Just some business. A couple of hours' drive.

You look to the sides, confused.

“Do you need my bless to leave?” you joke.

“No. You said last time you haven’t been there for a while.”

“Yes, I did...” you say still moving from side to side, cleaning up. He takes out his phone and pulls up an image of a poster he saved from who knows where. Then he slides his phone over to me. You stopped what you were doing, and you look at the picture even more confused than before. “Looks interesting. That kind of vintage bookshop really suits you. Would love to see it.”

Then, after a beat, his voice dropped a little, almost hesitant:

“I’d really like your company...” he stopped. He didn’t look at you right away. Just tapped his fingers lightly against the counter, like maybe he wasn’t sure what you’d say. And for a second, your heart stuttered, wondering why that small invitation suddenly felt so big. “I want to ask you out.” You stopped what you were doing, and you look at him even more confused than before. You opened your mouth, searching for words. Are he...?

“I— We’d stay the night,” he added quickly, almost stumbling over the words. “Would be a shame not to enjoy the city.”

You didn’t answer. Can that be a good idea? Going alone with him somewhere else? Spending a night... together? Wait... You're not sure about anything right now. Did he asked your for a date?

“Can I think about it?” you ask, your voice softer than you intended. Your heart was beating a frantic thousand times per hour.

He nods once, a small smile tugging at his lips, as if he understands more than you’re saying. “I’ll be waiting for you here in the morning,” he replies.

You brought it up to your mother later that night, expecting a lecture, maybe a little Catholic guilt or dramatic sighing, or even a heartfelt monologue about reputation. Instead, she practically threw you out of the house. By morning, she’d stormed into your room, yanked the curtains and told you to get in the shower. Breakfast was already waiting, and by the time you were dressed. Your backpack was packed and waiting by the door. You stood there, speechless.

“Go,” she said, waving her hand like she was shooting a fly. “My beautiful and intelligent daughter… You’re a grown woman.” Then she gave you that nostalgic mom-look. The one that makes you feel like she’s seeing your five-year-old self and not the woman standing in front of her. “I’ve seen you around him. You light up.”

You gawked at her. She kissed your cheek and shoved two lunch boxes into your hands. “Just… be smart, okay? And use protection.”

“Mamá!” You laughed, heart pounding in that strange mix of nerves and excitement.

She winked, shoved you toward the door, and muttered, “And if he hurts you, I will find him.”

He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the open window, sunglasses hiding his eyes, hair tousled from the coastal breeze. The warm air rolls through, that kind of afternoon that tasted like freedom. You tapped through his playlist, surprised to find a mix of old ballads and moody instrumentals, jazz and classic. An old soul.

“This is tragic,” you exhale. “Do you only listen this kind of music? Who are you, the Godfather?”

He shrugged. “It helps me think,” he said smoothly, as if brooding jazz was a requirement for plotting international deals or crimes.

With a small grin, you scrolled until you found something upbeat—something from your childhood that made your shoulders instinctively roll. The rhythm of the village, the kind of song that dragged you out of your chair whether you wanted to dance or not.

♫ Bachata en Fukuoka ♫

“You know this one?” you asked, teasing.

He didn’t answer. He sang. Badly. You burst out laughing because his voice was deep, slightly offbeat, and he only knew every third word. But gods, he was trying. Your chest ached in the strangest way.

“Please stop,” you gasped between laughs.

“I’m giving it soul,” he argued. “And you’re not any better.” You stick out your tongue and turn the volume up, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

When he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, grinning, you caught it—that angle of his jaw in the sunlight, the muscles of his forearm flexed against the wheel, veins drawn like rivers under skin. The line of his throat as he tilted his head back slightly, mouth curved around the chorus. His lips… again you felt your breath catch. Shit. You turned toward the window quickly, letting the wind cool the heat rising up your core and mind.

The city rose out of the horizon hours later. You hadn’t been here in a long while. You shifted in your seat, suddenly hyper aware of everything. Sylus pulled up to the hotel. You stepped out of the car and instantly felt underdressed. Marble floors. Velvet armchairs. Staff in suits. And the chandeliers were huge, golden things that looked like they belonged in a ballroom, not in a lobby. You wrapped your arms around yourself slightly as Sylus handed over the keys to the valet. At the reception desk, the woman behind the counter lit up the second she saw him.

“Mr. Qin. Welcome back.”

Welcome back? You glanced at him, but his expression was unreadable. Then she turned to you with a professional smile. “And welcome to you as well, Missus Qin.”

Your breath hitched. Missus Qin? You opened your mouth to correct her, but Sylus just smiled, clearly amused about your flustered expression with silent satisfaction. He didn’t correct her. Instead, he took the room key, slid your bag over his shoulder, and placed a gentle hand on your back, guiding you toward the elevator.

“Why did she call me that?” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. You weren’t sure if it worked. He didn’t answer. “Sylus?”

“Must’ve been a mistake, sweetie,” he said, voice rich with mischief. You gave him a look.

The suite was stunning. High ceilings, city view, modern decor with soft touches of luxury, everything immaculate.

“We’re staying in the same room?” you asked, half amused, half testing him.

“Since you’re Missus Qin today,” he said with a smirk, pulling off his sunglasses and setting them neatly on the table, “it’s only logical you stay here with me.” He gestured to the sofa, far too expensive to actually be comfortable. “I can sleep there, if it makes you more comfortable.” Then, almost teasingly, “Or I could book another room… if you’d prefer distance.”

You rolled your eyes, but the way your pulse stuttered was entirely unfair. “I will survive one night. Also you’re paying for the room.” Then, to break the tension threatening to tighten your chest, you added with a smirk of your own, “If you snore, I swear I’ll kick you off the bed.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “I’d expect nothing less.”

You turned away before he could see your grin. He checked his watch as you lounged near the window, sipping from the complimentary bottle of water. The city shimmered below, heat caught in the glass.

“I need to head to a meeting soon,” he said, checking his phone. “It won’t take long…” You looked up at him. “Would you like to accompany me?

Your brows lifted. “Why? Isn’t it a business thing? Nop. I’m not dressed for that.”

“That shouldn't be a problem.” Then, with a glint in his eye. “We can go shopping.”

Your mouth opened slightly. “I… I don’t—”

He stepped closer. “I asked you to come with me. Let me spoil you a bit.”

You blinked. “This feels like Pretty Woman… The rice guy who—” you avoid finishing the sentence, while you blush… You’re reading too much into it. He laughed but still he flicked his finger gently against your forehead.

“Hey!” you protested, rubbing the spot with a scowl that didn’t reach your eyes. “For what was that?”

“Don't overthink it.” He smirked. “Come on. Follow me.”

The hotel’s boutique was quiet and elegant, tucked just off the main lobby. Every item looked carefully chosen. Every mannequin poised. Every price tag… conspicuously absent. You picked a dress—fluid fabric, a cut that hugged you just right, something that made you feel both effortless and elegant. He plucked a pair of heels from a nearby display, held them up with a faint smile, and nodded once, like it was obvious they were yours. Even if you had insisted, even if your hand had reached for your wallet, you both knew it was pointless. The dress, the heels, probably cost more than your savings account held. At the counter, while the attendant folded the items with gloved hands, Sylus leaned in, the heat of his breath grazing your ear.

“Being Missus Qin,” he murmured, voice velvet-smooth, “means being more greedy. Can you handle it, my love?” That last word just rolled off his lips, and your cheeks instantly flared. You had to practically twist away to try and mask the grin threatening to take over your face. He chuckled softly, clearly pleased by your reaction. He carried the bag himself as you walked out, your heart still trying to recover from that one line.

“Go change,” he said, gesturing toward the elevator. “I’ll be waiting.”

By the time you returned, dressed and flustered, Sylus was already deep in conversation with two well dressed young men. His sentence slowed mid-syllable the second you stepped into view.

“You look…” His voice dipped lower. “…beautiful.”

The two men turned to look at you with perfectly timed curiosity. They introduced themselves as Luke and Kieran—identical down to the sharpness of their suits and the easy confidence in their smiles. But it didn’t take long to notice the difference: Luke had a warmer gaze and Kieran was quick-witted, his charm more playful, layered beneath sarcasm and quick glances exchanged between them.

Despite your confusion about who they were or what kind of business was Sylus doing with them. They treated you with quiet respect, never once making you feel out of place. Their ease around Sylus said more than their words, they trusted him. Completely. Which made you wonder again: what kind of man was Sylus really?

You sat together in a private business lounge. You stayed silent, hands folded in your lap, unsure where exactly to place yourself in their conversation. But Sylus didn’t miss a beat. Even while talking about contracts and acquisitions; about someone needing to sign off on a property, timelines, numbers that blurred together. And still, his attention didn’t drift far from you.

Without glancing, he reached out and pulled your drink a little closer, as if sensing you hadn’t touched it. A minute later while still speaking, something about closing dates and a stubborn signature, his hand slid the menu toward you with a gentle nudge. You looked up but he was still mid-sentence. The way his pinky brushed yours briefly. How, when your posture tensed just slightly, he shifted his knee until it touched yours. You weren’t sure if it made you feel more comfortable or more exposed.

At some point, a set of blueprints and renderings were spread across the table; floor plans, materials, and elegant, dark-toned interior designs. You leaned forward, tilting your head. It was sleek, yes. Sophisticated, expensive. But also… cold.

“Too much black marble,” you said, nose scrunching slightly. “Is it an apartment or a villain’s lair? Who is going to live there?”

The conversation paused for a breath. Sylus blinked, lips parting faintly. A beat later, Luke chuckled. Kieran raised a brow in amusement. Sylus turned his head slowly to look at you and the faintest smile ghosted across his lips.

He adjusted one of the pages, letting you see the whole layout again. “How would you distribute it?”

And after maybe other two hours, Luke and Kieran stood up, gathering their documents with ease and that lingering air of familiarity.

“When will you come back, boss—?” Luke started to ask, but was promptly elbowed by Kieran, who gave him a look.

“Dude! Don’t you check the situation?” Kieran hissed under his breath, nodding slightly in your direction with an exaggerated arch of his brow.

Luke blinked, then followed the gesture, finally catching on. “Oh. Oh. Ooooh…”

Sylus exhaled through his nose then replied with that measured calm that somehow still carried authority. “I still have a few things to take care of.”

Kieran bit back a smirk. Luke straightened, saluted poorly, and muttered, “Message received.”

The way they deferred to him made it obvious, they weren’t just associates. They were his employees. Loyal ones. And the way he held their respect without needing to raise his voice or assert control told you everything about the kind of leader he was.

And just like that, they were gone.

♫ Grecia ♫

You smile “I like them.”

Sylus laughed, already loosening his collar as he sank into the seat beside you, his shoulder brushing yours.

“That’s good” he said, with that familiar glint in his eye. He tilted his head, voice low and easy. “Now... what do you want to do?”

You didn’t have a plan, but Sylus seemed to know how to make the hours stretch. The city buzzed around you, alive but not rushed, soaked in golden light as the sun melted behind the towers. You’d already walked for hours, through markets full of spice and music, narrow alleys lined with vines and hidden bookstores, quiet plazas where street musicians played like they didn’t care if anyone listened. He bought you a tiny ring from a vendor who didn’t even take cards, “just to see if it fit”.

At a corner café, he ordered two lemon sodas and claimed the tiny mosaic table beneath a jacaranda tree. The breeze carried soft music from someone’s open window, and for a moment, everything slowed down. He tapped his glass to yours, watching you over the rim with a look that made your skin feel warmer than the sun. You laughed at something he said—something dumb and half-flirty. He leaned back with a smug grin, the corner of his mouth tugged higher with every note of your laughter. His eyes sparkled.

“Are you flirting with me, Sylus?” you asked, aiming for teasing but missing the mark.

His smile widened, then he tilted his head, one brow arched, a flicker of something triumphant in his gaze. “I told you you’d notice the difference,” he said softly.

Your heart jumped in your chest, as it had tripped over itself trying to catch up with the moment. You looked down, suddenly fascinated by the edge of your napkin. The heat in your cheeks gave you away, the quick breath you took, the smile tugging at the corner of your lips no matter how hard you tried to keep it in check. You felt embarrassed but also happy. So many emotions rushed through you at once it was hard to name them all. Something was clear as day, you wanted to hold onto this moment for a bit longer.

Sylus brought you to that small bookstore from the poster, and stepping inside, its quiet atmosphere and crooked rows of worn shelves immediately embraced you like a sanctuary. Dust floated in lazy golden stripes through the high windows, and the smell of old paper settled in your lungs. You wandered aimlessly, fingers brushing spines, pretending to read while your thoughts raced. You found Sylus in the poetry section. He hadn’t said a word, just stood there, back to you, his frame relaxed and strangely at home among the faded covers and soft silence. When he sensed your presence, he turned. His finger was pressed against the page, underlining a single verse in the middle of the poem.

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,”

“in secret, between the shadow and the soul.*”

You swallowed, something catching in your throat. Sylus finally met your eyes, reading the short poem in calm voice.

“So close, that your hand on my chest is my hand…”

“So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.*”

*(Pablo Neruda - 100 Love Sonnets)

The book stayed open between you two, but everything else, the shelves, the world blurred around the edges. And then he added, softer still, “That’s what it feels like. With you.”

A few stray cats lounged on stone benches, and small paper lanterns had already begun to glow in anticipation of evening. You walked along the edge of a garden square after that. He slowed his steps to match yours. His fingers brushed yours once… then again… until, without ceremony, he reached down and took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. Your heart feels relieved when you feel his warmth.

A loud, unmistakable growl echoed between you, making you freeze. Your stomach betrayed you. “Dinner’s on me.” he said, thumb stroking across your knuckles in a quiet rhythm.

The restaurant he chose was tucked away, elegant without trying. Dim lights, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city’s slow descent into night. The staff greeted him with too much familiarity, calling him Mr. Qin with polite bows and smiles that told you this wasn’t his first time here. You looked around. Velvet booths. Every guest was a portrait of tailored wealth. But across the table, Sylus didn’t blink at the opulence. The waiter poured wine, announcing its origin with elegance. Sylus barely acknowledged him.

You didn’t know how to hold yourself here. How to sip the wine without second-guessing the angle of your wrist, how to sit without wondering if you were taking up too much space. What am I doing here? The thought came uninvited. This wasn’t your world. You never imagined sharing a table with someone who ordered without glancing at the prices.

“Do you want to leave?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Umm?”

He leaned in slightly, elbows resting against the tablecloth, eyes still locked on yours. “You’ve gone quiet,” he said. “You always get quiet when you’re overthinking.”

You hesitated, then offered a small, breathy laugh. “Is that so obvious?”

“To me? Yeah.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, lifting your glass. “It’s just new. That’s all.” You took a sip, then smiled, a little crooked but warming. “And you did said you were going to spoil me… so I’m taking advantage. I plan on eating a lot of dessert.”

That finally made him smile.

The food was exquisite. The wine had begun to soften the edges of your nerves. He made you laugh and in that moment, you let your guard down. You reached for your glass, felt the soft weight of his gaze settle over you, and let yourself believe it was okay. If you can stay in this fantasy a little longer, so be it. You've spent too much time avoiding long-term love affairs. Only short encounters with those who weren't going to call you when they left. After college, that jerk broke you into a thousand pieces, and since then, your heart has become an icy shell. Yet, Sylus had found a way to chip at it, digging into the ice and creating a space within the cracks where he'd slipped through.

Yes, maybe it was time to let down all the defenses, and let someone like him... really in.

And then she walked in. A woman who looked like she belonged on a billboard: long hair, perfect lashes, crimson lips, and the kind of curves sculpted by some cruel god. She paused near the bar, eyes scanning, and landed too long on Sylus. Your heart twisted, a sharp, unwelcome knot of something you refused to name. She didn’t glance at you once. Why would she? You could still feel the ocean in your hair, the faint scent of sunscreen still on your skin from earlier. You felt small. Ordinary. Like a summer girl dragged into a winter party.

Sylus was… He was someone in this world. You were someone who worked at a beach bar. Who folded towels. Who knew every corner of a sleepy coastline but had never walked in shoes like hers. You knew it was stupid to feel that way. You knew it. But that didn’t stop the doubts from crawling into your mind. Or the whisper in your ear that said: You don’t belong in this story. You’re not special.

If he wanted to be with someone else, you knew he'd just do it. He was too honest, too direct for anything less. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t made a mistake with you. Even if he had asked you to come with him. Planned this trip. Bought you a dress. Treated you like you were someone important to him.

You forced a smile and took a slow sip of wine. Pretended like nothing inside you was shifting and unraveling. Keep it together, you told yourself. Don’t let him see it. But deep down, the quiet part of your heart was already breaking off into questions you didn’t want the answers to.

What if I’m just temporary? What if I’m not enough?

And across the table, Sylus’s gaze lingered on you. That scared you even more. Because if he saw all that insecurity in your eyes and chose to walk away… You weren’t sure you could blame him.

Sylus noticed it the moment your smile shifted. The way your shoulders dipped just slightly, the flicker behind your eyes as you reached for your glass. He followed your gaze and found her. The woman at the bar.

When you stood and excused yourself, your smile polite but paper-thin, he waited only a moment before rising too and walked over. The woman blinked up at him as he approached, lips already parting in a smile. She clearly thought she’d won. After all, a man like him didn’t just glance at someone like her and do nothing. In her mind, men like Sylus always fall for her.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said smoothly, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to be polite. She offered her name like a gift, tilting her chin, lashes fluttering with well-practiced charm. Sylus was already typing with one hand in his pocket. A quick search. That’s all it took. Her name wasn’t just a pretty label wrapped in lipstick and entitlement. It came with strings. Connections. Family ties woven through business and media. An old-money name known for its reach, and also its scandals.

He nodded once. “Let me get straight to the point,” he said, his tone smooth but sharpened at the edges, “I find it hard to enjoy my dinner when someone is making my wife very uncomfortable.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed and with a scoff masked as a laugh, she tilted her head toward your empty seat. “That little thing is—”

“I’ll say this once,” he said, still polite but his eyes were already burning with a cold fury. “Don’t ever look at me… or my wife, again. If you want to keep your status intact.”

She adjusted her hair so that it fell over her back, and grimaced in disgust. “Who do you think you are?”

Sylus stepped in slightly, just enough to tower, casting a shadow that wasn’t there before. The soft light caught in his eyes, turning them darker. Crimson heat cooled into something unholy. His stare sharpened, he changed to a wolf, ready to kill. “I’m someone you don’t want to challenge,” he said quietly.

And in that silence, she took a step back. Sylus walked away and sat back down, sending a quick message to Luke. He replied with a thumbs-up emoji and an Already on it, boss.

But when you returned, something in you was still pulled taut. And so the rest of the evening unraveled almost in silence. Now, walking through the winding streets back to the hotel, the heat of the day had faded into a softer warmth. The city hushed beneath golden streetlights. A tinny vendor’s radio spilled music into the night.

♫ Qué se siente que me gustes tanto? ♫

The lyrics landed first in the air, then in your chest. Sylus didn't wait long to bring up the subject. He couldn't leave it like that.

“You really think I’d look at other women when you’re across from me?” His voice was low.

You stiffened. You kept your gaze fixed forward, on the uneven cobblestones, refusing to meet his eyes. “Don’t know what you mean.”

Silence stretched, and it made you squirm. You didn’t want to admit it, that spark of fear, the ache of never being enough. You were proud. You’d never ask to be chosen.

His voice dropped even lower, “My beloved…” he called you, the words were softer than the fading music and gentler than the evening breeze that just barely stirred your hair. The sound wrapped around you, and made your heart be even more confused. You stopped walking, rooted to the spot. This was bad. Really, really bad. If you let yourself fall for him now, truly fall, there’d be no way for you to untangle yourself from his beautiful, complicated world.

And yet, when he reached for your hand, you didn’t resist. He pulled you into his arms, and pressed your face into his shirt, soft cotton that smelled like a special mix of wood, spices and leather. Is the first time you really noticed it. Is intoxicating. The music still played behind you. Your eyes stung. Sylus felt your breath against his chest, the tension running through your spine, so he pulled back just enough to look at you.

“Dance with me,” he said, not really asking.

“Now?”

“Why not?” he murmured. His hands found your waist, pulling you close as you swayed in place gently with the rhythm. The world around you blurred.

Warmth settled between your rips, your hands finding his with ease. For a moment, there was no one else. Just the hush between lyrics and the quiet longing. His thumb moved in lazy circles against your lower back. He could feel the tremble in your body and he held you tighter. You didn't know where to pour all the overflowing feelings. You wanted to lean in, to taste the comfort of his lips again. His gaze dropped to your mouth, then shot back to yours, holding you captive. In that moment, you wondered if, behind those intense crimson eyes, he also carried his own silent insecurities. And if he, like you, knew the fear of giving his heart away.

Sylus leaned in, hummed low with the melody, his mouth brushing near your ear. The verse slid back in, whispering as he echoed the lyric:

“¿Y si te doy mi vida?” (What if I give you my life?)

The words melted into your skin, and with them, the fear grew bigger. What if, for a moment, you put your fear aside? What if, for a moment, you dared to give in to all your emotions?

Please...

What would it feel like if your feelings were reciprocated? Your heart were hammering in your ears, beating so fast you hadn't felt like this in years.

Don't hurt me...

The moment stretched. You stepped a breath closer, and his hand pressed you more firmly against him. You had stopped dancing. Your eyes darted all over his face, searching for an opening.

Kiss me...

His phone buzzed loudly in his jacket pocket, shattering the moment. He didn’t move at first, his forehead nearly touching yours, but then he sighed and stepped back with a quiet, frustrated sound. The sudden space between you felt colder than it should have.

“Give me a moment,” he murmured.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly chilled despite the warmth of the night. Your mind is a mess. Even with the overwhelming urge to kiss him, your mind, predictably, had already strayed, lost in its own labyrinth of thoughts. Tonight was beautiful, but what did it mean tomorrow? And what if—what if this was just how he made any girl feel special? That thought struck harder than you expected.

By the time you reached the hotel, your mood had changed. The heat between you had been replaced with the chill of doubt, creeping in from all sides. You stand in the middle of the room. Barefoot, feeling small. You look over to the bedroom, then to him. You see your reflection and notice how the joy you felt this morning just disappeared with the day. You feel pathetic.

“Are you upset?” You shake your head. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t lie to me.” he said softly, removing his watch, and placing down his phone on the table then opening a few buttons of his shirt. “Say whatever's on your mind.”

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, louder than the silence between you. The distance wasn’t physical space; it was the weight of all the words that still hung, unspoken, in your chest.

“¿Y si te doy mi vida?”

His hand brushes yours. Your fingers twitched, desperate to reach for him. Your throat feels tight, as if you were suffocating. You're actually terrified. Because you want him, desperately. Not just the heat of his kisses, not just the easy laughter or the wild, thrilling mystery that he is. You want to actually love someone for once, truly. And it’s him. Fucking God, it’s him. But if he leaves… If he goes back to wherever he came from, with his smirk, his rich laugh and silver hair… Your heart will shatter and go straight back to that frozen, numb place. And you’ve only just started to thaw. You flinch. You meet his gaze in the low light. His expression is serious, no, even worse… Disappointment, sadness or something in between.

“I’m not… lying.” You lie.

He watches you a second longer, then slowly moves even closer to you. His movements are careful. His fingers wrap gently around your wrist, and he guides your hand to his chest, on his warm skin. A fast, steady rhythm beneath. His parted lips hover just above yours. The same lips you kissed a few nights ago, when you told yourself not to care. When you whispered: Let’s just have fun. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

But now…

Now, your thoughts are overflowing with him. Mornings, nights, in the quiet moments between customers, between dreams, you think of him. In his presence, somehow, you found the courage to admit out loud that you want to leave your home. The paradise with its palms and sleepy routines. That you want more. To go somewhere, do something, be someone. And still… even if he’s offered you all that, you’re terrified. Terrified he could simply use you. Terrified that things won't work out between you, and you'll be back to square one, heartbroken again.

“What do you really want?” he murmurs. His gaze is piercing you, you want to avoid him. If you let him… if you let yourself. The knot in your chest seems to struggle your heart to death. It hurts so much. You blink fast, trying to clear the sudden blur in your vision. Your throat tightens, making it impossible to swallow. “Why aren't you saying anything?”

“I—” You take a deep breath, trying to reduce the growing anxiety in your chest. “We should sleep,” you whisper, you’re one breath away from breaking.

“Don’t—” he starts, his voice rough, as if he’s about to say something that might shatter the last bit of distance between you but he stops. He swallows whatever it was, a visible effort, and just hugs you for a long time.

The silence settles again, but this time it’s louder, pressing in on you. And for a long while, neither of you sleeps. You want to cry out all the pain, and ironically, let him comfort you, wipe the tears from your face, and promise you that everything will be okay. The bed feels too big and far too small at the same time. You close your eyes, trying to ignore how closer Sylus was.

After that, every passing day carves the question deeper into your mind: What happens when he finally leaves? It gnaws at you more with each sunset. You keep telling yourself not to get attached. You’ve had flings before. Summer heat, wandering hands, promises made in the dark that vanish with the morning sun. You’re not new to that rhythm.

However, Sylus remembers the way you like your coffee. That you hate papaya. That your first kiss wasn’t anything magical, just wet and awkward behind a middle school building. That you used to get bullied for being too loud, too intense, too weird. He knows that you chew your straw when you're nervous. That you hold your breath during horror movies. He knows you have a birthmark between your shoulder blades you pretend to hate but secretly hope someone finds beautiful. That you’ve never told anyone the exact moment you stopped believing love was safe.

By now, it’s been fifteen days since you met him and in that time he knows more than you ever told anyone. Tonight, he’s sitting on his usual spot, sleeves rolled to his elbows as he skims a finger across the rim of his whiskey glass, he hasn't touched. You’re closing the bar tonight. There isn't anyone left on the beach. You join him wordlessly, sinking into the chair in front of him. You glance over. His eyes are fixed on the ocean, jaw tight. Something’s off.

“…Sylus?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just exhales through his nose.

“I’m leaving…” he finally says. There it is. Your stomach knots. You knew this was coming, didn’t you? You swallow hard.

“When?”

He looks at you then, and his eyes, those burning red eyes, look tired. No, they look unexpectedly sad. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

The silence that follows carries the heavy weight of all the unsaid things. You nod, pretending it’s fine. You’re fine. This is how it should be, how it always ends. You swallowed the bitterness of the coming farewell, the pain that had flooded your entire body, and the crushing sadness of never seeing him again. Maybe you'd screwed up.

“At least I have one less customer to serve,” you quip, a thin attempt at humor.

He huffs a breath, a sound that's a tired mix of amusement and resignation. “I… didn't expect to stay so long.”

You nod again. He reaches for your hand, his fingers wrap around yours.

“I told you I’d give you everything,” he says, and his voice is serious.

“What does that even mean, Sylus?”

Why me? Who are you really? What happens after this?

He lifts your hand, presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“It means,” he says slowly, his eyes holding yours, “if you want to leave this place. If you want to see the world, say it.”

You stare, breath caught in your throat. “You’re asking me to just… go with you?”

“I’m offering you a way out.” He smiles then, soft and utterly unreadable. “Your choice.”

The smell of herbs and something baking fills the air. You hear the soft clatter of your mother’s steps as she moves from counter to stove. You sit there in the dim light of the kitchen, elbows resting on the table, the ghost of Sylus’s offer still echoing in your chest. You want to ask her, but you can’t put your words together.

She passes behind you, then stops. Set something down gently on the table. You glance at it. A photograph. Slightly bent at the corners, colors a little faded with time. You are in a yellow swimsuit with flowers, front tooth missing, two uneven braids. One hand gripping a tiny shovel, the other clutching the hand of a boy, frowning, clearly not thrilled to be holding yours.

“Do you remember that summer?” your mother says, her voice light, amused. You don’t answer. Just stare at the photo like it might rearrange itself if you look long enough.

“You met that boy,” she continues, “and I remember you told everyone you were going to travel the world with him.” She chuckles under her breath. “You always wanted to go beyond the horizon. I don’t know what happened to that dream but…” she pauses, and her voice softens. “You know... Your father and I—we can live alone.”

You look up. She’s already turned her back again, kneading something, hands working like they always do. You huff. You even haven’t said anything but she already knows what is oppressing your heart.

“I just thought it was cute, how serious you were,” she adds. Then, quieter—like she’s saying it to the dough. “Who knew he’d grow up to be so handsome…”

Your breath catches. You look down at the photo again. At the boy. You hadn’t made the connection. Same frown. Same eyes. That stubborn, restless energy in his bones.

Sylus.

No wonder he could speak your language so well. You stare at the picture, fingers tracing the edges. Was that why he was here? If you have forgotten about that, has he too? Could it be...?

You lay on your bed, eyes wide open, ceiling fan spinning slowly above you, offering no peace. How did you forget him? How did he slip through the cracks of your memory? You remember the summer, vaguely. You remember falling, scraping your knee, building sandcastles. But him? Not really. Maybe your brain, like your heart, had tucked it away for safekeeping.

You throw off the sheet when the first rays of sunlight appear behind your curtain. You take the photo and slip it into your pocket and walk out. The path is still etched into your bones, even after all these years. Past the old mango tree, down the narrow stretch of dirt between fences, and through the tall grass that tickles your legs until the world opens up.

The beach. You find the spot. The place where your little hand held his. You sit down in the sand, cool grains sticking to your legs. The sky is bruised with the first light of morning, deep pinks and soft golds stretching across the horizon. The ocean glitters just for you. You pull the photo out, staring at it again.

You don’t hear his footsteps at first.

“I wondered if you’d remember.” You look over your shoulder. “You kept the picture,” he says, sitting beside you.

You hold it up. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The ocean murmurs beside you, waves licking the rocks with that slow, lazy rhythm that feels almost too intimate for this moment.

“Would you have looked at me the same way, if I’d said it on day one?” His gaze lingers on the horizon. His thumb brushes over his knee, slow and distracted. “You didn't seem to remember me at all.” He paused. “I thought… if I added more weight to all of this, you'd pull away.”

You stare at him, lips parted, heartbeat louder than the sea.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he finishes, finally turning to face you. “But I think I might have, anyway.”

You look down at the photo in your hand then at the man beside you. Maybe you stayed because some part of you was waiting. Hoping. Hoping he'd come back. And then it clicks. Like a lock turning after all these years. You did make a promise. You both did. You remember the salty wind in your hair, the scraped knees, the laughter. The little boy frowning at the sun, then reaching for your hand and whispering something like:

“When we’re older, let’s explore the world. You and me. I’ll came back.”

You huff. Then laugh, low and disbelieving.

“So you came here to find me?” you ask, glancing at him.

“No,” he says, eyes still fixed on the horizon.

You squint at him. “Then what was it?”

He’s silent for a moment.

“I’ll tell you. But first… I want to here your decision.”

“Does my choice change your secret?”

“No,” he repeats.

You press your lips into a fine line. A choice. Yours. The word echoes through your chest. Panic rises in your throat, a quiet flutter of fear. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for, some sign or burst of clarity, but maybe the truth has been there all along. Leaving because of some old promise would be stupid, but... you had waited for an excuse, for something that would finally pull you out of your comfort zone. You’ve been scared. Of leaving, of staying. Of wanting something too much. But this… him. It hasn’t felt temporary in a long time. You exhale. The nerves are still there, fluttering like butterflies wings under your skin. But somewhere deeper inside of you, already knows the answer.

“I want to leave and see the world,” you squeeze his hand. “But also... I want to be with you.”

His head turns slowly, and he looks at you with tenderness. His hand closes over yours. With the sun rising and the sea singing low beside you, you realize you’re choosing something that feels like destiny.

“I'm glad to hear that.”

“Now…” you whisper, “your—”

Sylus laughs under his breath, then draws you in. His mouth meets yours with a softness that steals the air from your lungs. You feel the tremble in his exhale, the way his fingers tighten slightly. Your hands find his chest. The world narrows to the taste of him, familiar, new and everything at once. He barely parts from you, his forehead brushing yours, his nose nudging yours.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “All these years. I wanted to find you.” A pause. “Coming here wasn’t planned, I almost gave up,” he admits. “I was just taking a few days off. And then… I found you.”

There’s a softness in his expression, an openness that makes your soul leave your body. For you, he’s not just a visitor anymore. Not just a beautiful man passing through. He’s the ache in your chest that finally has a name. He’s the silence that felt full instead of empty. You grip his shirt, holding onto him like he might vanish if you let go.

The sun crowns him in gold, dawn spilling across his skin, catching in his lashes, turning him into something you could never explain to anyone else. You kiss him again, this time with everything you’ve been holding back. He answers with equal fervor, hands cradling your face. The world tilts, and for a moment it’s just breath and warmth and the ache of something too big for words. The kind of kiss that means yes. He breaks the kiss with a soft, disbelieving laugh, eyes impossibly bright as if he can’t quite believe this was happening. Without warning, he rises, sweeping you into his arms effortlessly. Your laughter bubbles up, wild and breathless, muffled against the curve of his neck as he spins you around.

The door barely clicks shut before you’re on him again, tangled in each other. Clothes fall in a trail behind you. His fingers slide under your shirt, tugging it over your head as his lips find your neck, dragging a sigh from your lips. The trail of clothes grows behind you, scattered and forgotten, urgency pulsing beneath every touch.

The relentless desire for the feel of your bare skin against his, already warm and damp with your rising heat, was getting both of you into an intoxicating high. A thirst as overwhelming as hours without water in the desert.

You kiss him slowly. First his lips, a deep, soft sigh shared between you, then lower, down the sharp line of his jaw. Your mouth drifts to the curve of his neck, tasting the warmth there. His breath hitches,when your tongue traces the hollow of his throat. You can feel the tension building, a taut wire humming through his body, every muscle pulled tight…

Sylus tilt your head, eyes burning in desire. You just smiled, making him sit on the bed. You knelt before him. He exhaled sharply. You kept going, placing soft, wet kisses down his chest, over each ridge of muscle, pausing to press your mouth against the places that made him twitch, and made him whisper your name.

“You don’t need to…” he started, his voice thick with unspent lust, but your lips had already closed around his leaking cock. His head fell back with a low groan. Your mouth moved with intention. You wanted to savor this—him. You hollowed your cheeks just enough, letting your tongue glide along his length, feeling every small shudder ripple through him. His hand drifted to your hair only holding, enough to ground him as he unraveled.

“S-sweetie…” he murmured, his voice roughened, broken open by pleasure.

You didn’t stop. You owned this moment, every agonizing, beautiful second. The taste of him was rich, musky, utterly intoxicating, a flavor that filled your mouth and settled deep in your throat. The way he fought to keep control and still offered it to you completely, without reservation. He was yours like this—silent except for the sounds you pulled from him, the way his hips shifted with restraint beneath your hands.

Your lips wrap around his thick cock, feeling the slick heat. You split over him, taking him deeper in. Tears pricked at your eyes, because of the sheer effort and the overwhelming sensation. Yet you enjoyed it so much, you wanted more.

Sylus can barely breathe, every nerve ending screaming. He feels his control fraying, a thin thread about to snap. His hips twitch, wanting to thrust into your mouth, but he holds himself rigid, a strangled sound catching in his throat as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm him entirely. You pull back, and a thin line of breathless laughter escapes him, as if he can’t believe what you were doing to him.

You wiped your mouth delicately, lingering for a moment to lick away his taste still on your lips. Then you kissed your way back up his body, over his taut stomach, up his chest, hovering just above his lips.

“Still think I’m not greedy enough?” you whispered, your voice husky. He looked like he wanted to worship you and surrender at the same time. His answer was a kiss that made the whole room spin.

He didn't give you time to continue. Sylus made you lay down on the bed, his knee nudging between your legs, creating a space just for him. His eyes, dark with fervent hunger, scorched your flushed skin as he leaned in. He kissed your collarbone, then the hollow of your throat, his lips playing with your breath, before his mouth drifted lower. He took your nipple between his lips sucking on them, making your back arch and a gasp in response to that. You felt the sudden gush of your own wetness, a hot, insistent tide rising, your whole body with a pulsing need to have him.

“Let me... return the favor,” he murmured and then he disappeared between your legs.

Your eyes rolled back in your head. His hot tongue danced over your swollen, damp pussy. The taste of you, sweet and musky, filled his mouth, a heady rush he craved more than air. It felt so terribly, impossibly good. “So wet...” he purred, the words vibrating against your sensitive skin. Your whole body tensed, an electric current shooting through you. He gorged himself on your wetness, every lick, every suck deepening his own hunger.

He kept you firmly in place, his hands on your thighs, devouring you with an intensity that stole your breath. Your moans grew louder, and uncontrollable sounds ripping from you. You grabbed fistfuls of his hair while your other hand clenched the sheets, twisting the fabric. “Sy— Fuck...!” Your breath was a mess, short-circuited, ragged gasps. You were going crazy, right on the edge, especially when he pressed his tongue deep inside you.

“Sy— I'm… aahh… mm…” Your words were broken sounds, lost in pleasure.

The vibration of his own moan against your dripping pussy was the cherry on top. You were about to cum on his face when he pulled back. You let out a small, frustrated whine.

“What…” he murmured, his tongue flicking hard against your clit. “...Do you…” again, a deeper, swirling lick that made your hips arch instinctively. “...Need..?” You couldn't form coherent thoughts; how could one man be so impossibly good at this? “Tell me.” He pressed a hot, claiming kiss to your inner thigh, sending a shockwave through your entire body. You couldn't even articulate if you wanted him inside you, or if you simply needed more of his impossibly talented tongue.

“Be honest,” he whispered, the words punctuated by tiny, insistent bites on your inner thigh. His nose then brushed against your clit, drawing a sharp gasp from your throat. "You smell so good," he purred.

He kept you on the edge, pushing you further with every lick, every suck. You writhed beneath him, your fingers twisting in the sheets, desperate to articulate the overwhelming need. Sylus continued to feast, drawing out your pleasure until your pussy screamed for something more, for him.

“I... want.. you…” The admission ripped through you.

“As you wish” he breathed, and the certainty in his tone was an aphrodisiac, sealing your fate.

Every breath, every motion feels etched in starlight. When he finally thrusts into you, the wet, full slide of him ignites a deeper fire, driving even further, lost in the vast extent of your desire. A whimper tears from your throat, your nails drag burning trails down his back, and then, without quite thinking, you sink your teeth gently into his shoulder, desperate, loving bites that pull a gasp from him. You murmur something incoherent against his damp skin, something silly that dies on your tongue. He chuckles, breathless.

His entire body is on fire with the profound pleasure of being inside you, feeling you stretch around him, so wet, so impossibly tight. Sylus pressed harder, deeper inside you, with the urge to bury himself completely, never wanting to let go. His warmth floods you, mingling with your own burgeoning sweat, dissolving the last threads of hesitation. “Fuck,” he rasps, a rough, breathless sound against your ear, his voice full with his own spiralling pleasure, "you feel so incredible.”

You feel every inch of him: solid muscle, steady breath, the faint shiver that betrays his own restraint. Letting out a long breath, you fully surrender to his embrace. Your legs wrap around him almost instinctively, drawing him in tighter. His mouth devoured yours, tongues tangling, wet and insistent, mixing tastes of hunger and the lingering salt from his skin, a flavour of absolut, undeniable devotion. You move together, slow at first, building a rhythm that pulls you both under.

He moans your name against your ear. The world narrows as the heat of his skin grows. The sound of your breathing tangled together is getting louder, and the steady rhythm he finds between your hips makes your vision blur. He feels you clenching around him, demanding more. His thrusts are smooth, sensual, purposeful. He’s trying to memorize the shape of your body from the inside out, imprinting himself onto you.

Each movement sends sparks up your body, makes your chest arch, your breath catch, your thoughts dissolve into nothing more than him. “Sylus…” you whimper against his neck. Sweat glistened and rolled over the planes of his chest, catching in the silver hair that trailed down his lower stomach to the base of his cock.

The wet slap of skin echoed the deep, rhythmic thwack of his hips meeting yours, and the raw longing burning in his eyes is almost too much to bear. You cling to him, your hair sticky against your own body, as well as the weight of all your feelings: your fear, your yearning, your surrender, everything coiling tighter into every powerful roll of his hips.

His mouth brushes your ear as he promises you things you can’t quite hold yet, but desperately want to believe. “Please…” you gasp, the word lost in the rising tide of climax. “Sylus…”

“If… you keep saying my name like that...” he moaned, so shaky and broken it barely sounded like him. “I’m not… ah… going to last long.”

The desire rised between your bodies like a storm about to break. You couldn't hold back; the dam of all your emotions was seconds from bursting. And with a few more relentless movements, you came, shuddering violently over his cock, gasping for breath as if you’d been drowning. You cried out with a wild, untamed sound you'd never made before, a full-body surrender that spilled into a rush of shared liquid.

Your body trembled beneath him, and still he didn’t let go, maintaining the rhythm, anchoring you both in the eye of the storm. He presses his forehead to yours, breathing hard, his fingers brushing your cheek with tenderness. He could feel every tremor in your frame, hear the racing beat of your heart, echoing his own.

Sylus pulled back slightly, only to thrust in harder. His cock, already thick, hardened further, pulsing with a fierce demand inside you. He needed more. His own climax, so close just moments ago, was now a conscious chase. Each powerful plunge was a desperate claim, a primal need to consume and be consumed.

He felt the nails of your fingers digging into his back and it only drove him further. The way your face twisting in pleasure, of your body arching in that first, explosive climax coursed through him, intensifying his own need. He hadn't expected to go so fierce with you the first time. But your tongue, your hands, your raw surrender had provoked him beyond anything he’d anticipated. He sighed. He needed to come. You were pushing him past every limit.

You felt him hit your sweet spot, driving you wild again. Your body arched up to meet his every brutal, perfect demand, instinctively answering the raw desire in his every thrust.

“Sylus...” You cried out, and the sound of his name on your lips was a direct path to his soul.

“Relax. You can handle it,” he choked out, his hips driving relentlessly. The wet, furious slap of skin against skin became the only sound in the universe. Your legs clamping again around his waist. His muscles bunched and flexed beneath your fingers, shimmering with sweat, as he hammered into you, faster, harder...

Just as his body tensed for release, he pulled back a fraction, you hear his choked question against your ear: “Can I come inside you?”

“Mmm-hmm... yes!” you whimpered, your body arching. “ ’m taking... the pill...”

His body tensed with renewed power, and he slammed into you, picking up a new tempo with a desperate urgency. He was rock-hard inside you, pushing you toward a second climax even as your head spun with the intensity.

Until a desperate moan tearing from his chest as he poured himself into you, filling your core. You let out a load moan, your own climax exploding through you, pulling you violently with him into the sweet oblivion. He collapsed against you, heavy and spent, his breath ragged against your neck, his fingers digging into your hips, still clutching you.

After, your bodies remained impossibly tangled, bathed in the hush of the room, slick with shared heat. You felt weightless and pinned at the same time, his leg tangled with yours, Your heart still raced a frantic rhythm barely believing what just happened. The sheets are a mess, but neither of you moves. His arm is heavy across your waist. His breath fans gently against your temple. You stare at the ceiling, too full of feeling to speak.

Then, his fingers found your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek with feather-light care, he turned you toward him. You looked at him and found no trace of the usual smugness in his face but rather a profound softness you hadn't seen.

“I hope you know…” he said, his eyes flickering side to side, almost vulnerable. “…this wasn’t just for fun.”

You stared at him, the unexpected softness in his gaze disarmed you. The overwhelming tide of emotion swelled within you, a chaotic mix of the shattering intimacy you'd just shared, the fierce longing that had coiled inside you since that trip to the city, and the startling realisation that Sylus had been holding back too. You felt it now, in every inch of your body, lingering on your lips…

“Yes, I know, but—” you blurt, your thoughts instantly slipping out in a rush. “But I’m also a disaster! I overthink everything, and I say stupid things. I’m going to ruin this, I know it, even though I don’t want to. I’ll probably just cry and then analyse every breath we’ve shared because I can’t stop myself—and I won't be enough!”

Sylus blinks once, then twice, clearly caught off guard by the sudden rush of words.

“And maybe I’ll run or say something stupid because that’s what always happens when something actually matters and this... You... You matter so much I can’t even breathe right and I— I love you so much…” Sylus’s eyes widened, freezing on your face. You haven't realised what you just said. “...and it’s terrifying because if you leave I won’t know how to be okay again. And I don’t think I’ll even know how to want anything else after this... after you... and, and...”

Then, his hand finds yours beneath the sheets, firm but gentle. He laces your fingers together and pulls you slightly closer, grounding you with his gaze.

“Leaving me is not an option,” he says, eyes steady. “I won’t accept that.” The intensity in his gaze sends your heart stumbling all over again. You feel your face heat up so fast it’s like someone struck a match across your skin. “After all,” he murmurs, and there’s the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips, “you love me…”

You froze. Did you say that…? The words echoed, loud and clear in your mind, burning with the fresh memory of the confession torn from you just moments before. Mortified, you yanked the covers up and over your head like a kid hiding from a nightmare. “God, why am I like this?” you mutter from underneath.

He laughs softly, leaning over the mound you’ve become. “Don’t hide under the blanket, Kitten,” he murmurs, leaning over the mess of linen you’ve become. “I remember everything you said.”

“I’m not hiding,” you protest, voice muffled and absolutely unconvincing.

“Oh?” His tone tilts into that familiar, playfully smug edge. “You’re not hiding. Enlightened me then…” his fingers pinch a corner of the blanket. “What exactly are you doing?” He gives the covers a tug, but you cling to them tighter.

“And why are you calling me Kitten, now?” you protest, struggling with him.

“It suit you” he laughed.

A brief, silly struggle ensues and before you know it, he’s won. He slips beneath the blanket with you, pinning you down, his bare chest warm against yours. You yelp as his mouth finds yours again in the dark, laughter caught between kisses.

“Don’t be so fussy, Kitten,” he murmurs against your lips, smug and soft all at once. “You already said it.” You turn into his chest, breathing in his scent, your hand clutching the fabric of the sheets between you. He wraps his arms around you tighter. “Now let me show you what that means to me.” He murmurs, and before you can respond, his lips find yours.

A kiss that speaks in quiet declarations: I heard you. I see you. I’m not going anywhere. His mouth brushes over yours once, then again, softer, slower. His hand cradles your jaw, thumb tracing your cheek, and you melt into him, the warmth of his chest, the strength of his arms, the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palm. The moment stretches between heartbeats, soft and suspended. Then you sigh, the weight of reality pressing lightly on your chest.

“It’s a shame we can’t stay like this too long.”

“We have plenty of time” he said, pressing his again hard cock against you.

“You’re not leaving today?” You lift an eyebrow, already suspicious. He keeps kissing your neck. “Sylus…” you warn, your tone dropping.

He pulled back, hovering over you. “I guess you can say I lied.”

“What?”

“Leaving today was… an option.”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief, you push him from you, scandalized. “Liar!”

“But,” he drawls, he caught your wrist effortlessly, tugging you back against the bed with ease. “I still need to get on a plane this week. Which means, my beloved…” he kisses your knuckles with infuriating calm, “we have the whole day to ourselves. And enough time to pack your things.”

Your heart skips, a flustered mess between outrage and joy. “You’re assho—”

“I know,” he smirks, utterly shameless, pulling you into a kiss that tastes like victory and sweet devotion.

The days after, the sun rose just like it always did—but everything felt different. You packed quietly, folding memories between cotton shirts and worn-out sandals, tucking away pieces of your old life with a strange sense of calm. Your mother hugged Sylus tightly at the door, laughing as she told him, “You always were handsome, even back then as a boy.” He smiled, a little shy for once. Your father gave him a few heavy pats on the shoulder, nodding solemnly. Take care of her.”

And just like that, you left. With nothing more than a suitcase, enough to pack everything important to you. You had always known this place wouldn’t hold you forever. Your heart had been beating against its walls for years, aching for something just out of reach. But it was also a cage, painted in soft colours and built from everything you loved and yet couldn’t stay for.

Sylus didn’t rescue you. He gave you a reason, an option to leave. Before your courage could shrink back into doubt, before the weight of comfort could drag you into settling. He was a spark, and you were dry wood pretending not to be waiting for the flame.

You found out later, that the blueprint you once saw, the one that made you wrinkle your nose and tease him over his terrible taste in dark interiors… was a real apartment. A place he had already bought. For both of you. Just in case you said yes. He had designed it with the quiet precision only he possessed. Room for you to make it yours.

You slowly began to accept every piece of him. His shadows. His impossible expectations. His infuriating smirk. His softest silences. And he, in turn, accepted yours. Your doubts. Your fear. Your stubborn heart that had always longed to run.

Months passed. Then years. And with each one, your love with Sylus deepened. He never tried to clip your wings, instead, he helped you build them stronger. He stood by you, through every new city, every strange adventure, every late-night doubt. He pushed you when you forgot how powerful you were. With him, you became the woman you were always meant to be: strong, radiant, free.

One day, when you were ready—truly ready—he knelt before you, eyes bright with unshed tears. You said yes, the word trembling from your lips like a vow the universe had always been waiting to hear.

The bell of the church rang across your small village, echoing through palm trees and sun. Rice flew through the air, laughter danced on the breeze, and petals rained down on two people irrevocably in love. You stepped out in white, hand in hand, heart in heart. When he kissed you under the sun, tears mixed with sweat and ocean memory, and he whispered against your lips: “I love you.”

A/N: If you’ve reached this part — congrats! I hope you enjoyed the story. I did my best to portray Sylus as true to character as possible in this scenario. It’s quite a challenge to take him out of the whole LADS universe.

Depending on how The Taste of Apple and Pomegranate evolves, I’d love to write an epilogue. I honestly feel like this story could easily have two parts.

But, well… work and life exist, so we’ll see.

Still — I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comment section, and I hope to see you in future stories!

What If "Salt on your skin" were a movie?

Want more Sylus in your life >> MASTERLIST

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eznin · 3 days ago

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Just imagine 22 years old in-okay-terms-with-the-bats Jason meeting 19 years old murderous-hell-bent-on-revenge Jason

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Teen Jason, absolutely horrified that he not only failed to kill the Joker but he also managed to be re-adopted: How the fuck did this happen?!

Adult Jason, who is also not sure : Idk, Dick just kept inviting me to go get lunch and it all went downhill from there.

Teen Jason: Did we at least kill him?

Adult Jason: Timothy? No, but he fixed our helmet the other day.

Teen Jason: ...you are pathetic.

Adult Jason, still struggling a bit with self esteem issues: And this is why no one likes you.

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Bruce is loosing it with having to find a way to solve this time travel mess while simultaneously keeping Teen Jason from killing someone.

On the other hand Tim is looking at Teen Jason, who is the same age as him and still has a little bit of baby face even after the pit, and wonders at how was he terrified of this dude for so long.

Dick, Steph and Cass just refuse to acknowledge any of Teen Jason's threats and have a lot of fun doing it.

Steph: Baby Jay, do you want pancakes ?

Teen Jason, who just tried to stab Dick with a dinner knife only to have his arm twisted in the most casual and infuriating way possible: I hate all of you.

Cass, already stacking pancakes on his plate: Love you too.

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At one point they consider tying Teen Jason to a chair because he keeps trying to shot Bruce and Tim (and sometimes Dick) in the back.

Bruce, looking at the Batcomputer: So this way we might finally get younger Jason back to his time.

Teen Jason, who was let into the cave after promising to behave: That's an actually good plan, just a sugestion...

Teen Jason suddenly pulls out a revolver and unloads the entire cylinder into Bruce’s chest, who started always wearing bullet proof clothes until the mess is solved and only rubs his temple in response.

Bruce: I told you to keep him away from guns.

Tim: We did, I don't know where he got that from.

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The only ones Teen Jason tolerates are Damian, because he just recently left the League and still has a bit of a protective streak. Duke, because there is no bad blood and he isn't too annoying. And Alfred, because he is Alfred.

Adult Jason can never ever be near Teen Jason or they will fist fight, although the worst part is the psychological damage. They know exactly what to say to make the other flinch.

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Teen Jason does everything in his power to be an absolute nightmare, because if he doesn't he will have to think about how these people somehow don't hate him. And if they don't hate him then there is a chance his Bruce and the bats back home also don't hate him and that's too much for his heart to take.

Teen Jason, nearly crying: How can you not hate me?

Bruce, in the softest voice possible despite Teen Jason having exploded the Batmobile with an home made bomb in an attempt to push Bruce over the edge: I could never hate you, Jaybird.

Teen Jason's eyes go so wide and poisonous glowing green that everyone goes tense waiting for him to spontaneous combust out of rage.

Then there is a sob.

Oh, fuck he is crying.

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Past Bruce is a mix of surprised, suspicious and hopefull when Jason shows up again after being inactive for two weeks and is not only not trying to torture them with shakespearian plots but also accepted one of Dick's lunch invites (Dick is just as surprised, he had been making them as a joke)

#batman #just to make sure when I say Dick made them as jokes is not in a mean way but in a “he will never accept but why not” way #batfam #bruce wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #duke thomas #cassandra cain #jason todd headcanon #batfam headcanons

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wonluhver · 2 days ago

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Mingyu Focus

M = Content Warnings for Smut

! = Personal All Time Favs.

Red Card [M] - smut/fluff, non-idol au, 80s au (aesthetics only), childhood friends to lovers, oneshot.

Mingyu's been there through everything. From childhood to now. What happens when he gets hurt and someone else has to step in and play the hero?

! Clarity [M] - bf's best friend mingyu, (awkward) acquaintances to lovers, the other side of the f2l trope, angst, smut, you could say there's a drizzle of fluff, one shot. side of bad bf!jungkook.

Mingyu doesn't want to pay you any mind. To him, you're just another girl that'll get her heart broken by his dumb best friend.

Why would he care, right? He shouldn't care about the crying sounds he hears from his bedroom when his friend stands you up for the girl he's actually in love with. And he shouldn't be getting close to you. He shouldn't dread the day his friend decides to end things with you and bring someone else home. He shouldn't be wishing to have met you first.

! Save the Date [M] - smut, fluff, angst, frenemies to lovers, oneshot.

5 weddings in one year. 5 dates you saved for you and your boyfriend to attend — before he cheated. and now, you had to force your best friend, vernon, to go with you. but after losing a bet, mingyu agrees to take vernon’s place and be your date. this wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go, but you guess you could settle going with your only one-night-stand from college.

Theories and Heartstrings [M] - Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!. angst, fluff, smut. completed series.

As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

! Again and Again [M] - exes, fake dating, mutual pining, idol!gyu, vet!reader, mild angst, fluff, smut, oneshot.

your mother calls one day, asking if you’re bringing mingyu along for chuseok this year. in your panic, you end up giving her an affirmative—never mind the fact that you and mingyu have stopped seeing each other over half a year ago.

Covert Desires - spy au, mafia, enemies to lovers, fake marriage, mutual pining, spies, angst, fluff, killing, oneshot.

he mission is simple - infiltrate a high-stakes auction that the top leaders, businessmen, women, and politicians of the world attend every year and steal one of the most highly guarded and hidden-away paintings from the target’s collection. the only downside, you had to work with kim mingyu, whom you absolutely hated. and to make it even worse, you had to pretend to be his wife for this mission to work.

! Challenge me [M] - College!Au, porn with plot(s), crack, OT13 x afab!Reader (mingyu/scoups focused), smut. unfinished series.

you have never been a person to turn down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kinda wish you were.

Wicked Games [M] - angst, fluff, smut (18+), bartender mingyu, friends to rebound fucking, no strings attached (fwb to lovers), mingyu/wonwoo focused. unfinished (? i think) series - still ongoing.

Kim Mingyu came into your life at a time when you needed a friend the most. And that he was: a friend that you could confide in and laugh together, share your secrets with and perhaps, share a burden that was too similar to his.

Kitty Claws - a svt spiderman x jujutsu kaisen au, spiderman!mingyu, blackcat!reader, lots of banter, mild fighting scenes = mentions of blood and injuries !!, fluff with angst if you squint. oneshot.

being a superhero isn't as easy as it seems, and it's even harder when you're notorious supervillain black cat with a past threatening to catch up with you and a pesky spider that won't leave you alone.

Get Him Back [M] - lead guitarist!kim mingyu x lead singer!fem!reader, romance, angst, smut (oral sex, unprotected sex (please stay safe irl!), wall sex, angry sex, overstimulation, dirty talk), exes to lovers au, band au, oneshot.

years after your messy breakup that broke up the band, you and mingyu are forced back together for a reunion tour—and the public can’t get enough of your chemistry. on stage, you’re electric, but backstage it’s all snide comments, heated arguments, and mingyu slipping in petty lyric changes just to piss you off. you’re not sure what’s worse: how much you still hate him or how much you don’t.

What Do I Call You? [M-ish] - college au, idiots friends to lovers au ; angst, fluff, suggestive ? slightly smutty? themes. football player!kim mingyu x fem!college journalist!reader. oneshot.

your best friend is a man of many facets - a creative architecture student, a skilled football player, a wonderful friend and a sought-after lover. not that he'd ever truly glance anyone's way, especially not when his heart has always been set on you.

! Dessert First [M] - baker! mingyu, wedding planner!YN, fluff, smut, angst, exes to lovers, oneshot.

You've got a great life. Your wedding planning business is booming, your clients are great, and you're finally over your ex-boyfriend after years of pining. Or you are, until the universe decides to test if those three things are actually true.

! Lost in the West [M] - fake dating (kind of), friends to lovers, holiday!au | fluff, smut, romance, oneshot.

where your best friend pretends to be your boyfriend for the holidays so you can avoid more nagging from your mother. except your whole family thought you were already dating.

!!! Kim Mingyu's (unhelpful) Guide to Losing your Virginity [M] - smut, fluff, humor, college au, best friends to lovers au, friends with benefits au, oneshot.

after accidentally telling your friends that kim mingyu took your virginity (he didn’t), you’re shocked when he proposes to relieve you of the fabled v-card for good (he does).

! The Very First Night [M] - angst, smut, exes to lovers au, roommates au. oneshot.

the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend

for my best friend who i promised i would post mingyu recs for,, youre welcome. ignore how half of these are exes to lovers, or fake dating to lovers... i'm okay...

other recs

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filmtv2022 · 3 days ago

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What's Got You Smiling? (18+ MDNI)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Story: Coming home from college for a long weekend, you plan to spend every waking moment with Eddie, enjoying each other's company and trying not to fall apart. Time away has done nothing but make the heart grow fonder when it comes to Eddie. But no matter how hard you try, the reality of college life is far more than you expected. On the verge of losing your dreams, you come back to the one thing that always has you smiling, Eddie.

Warnings: Sexual content/SMUT (oral - both parties receiving, unprotected p in v), language & financial struggles.

A/N: Whew! Well, this one has been brewing for a while, and I hope you enjoy it! As always, I apologize for any mistakes! One more unpublished work has made it out of the drafts.

Eddie scurried around the living room, tidying up what remained of the general mess that decorated the already cluttered space. Broken and lumpy pillows were tossed onto the tattered couch as the curly-haired boy tossed his messy mane out of his eyes. Standing to his full height, Eddie glanced around the room, scanning for any remaining mess. From his spot, his focus landed on the empty pizza box and beer cans that sat scattered on the kitchen counter.

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath. Across the room, Wayne emerged from the hall already dressed in his fishing gear as he ambled toward the last dregs of coffee in the pot. The older Munson deftly avoided the whirlwind that was his nephew as he hurried through the kitchen, tossing trash into the open-mouthed bin.

The chipped laminate of the countertop bit into his back, releasing a groan that only came with age. Wayne sipped the black sludge that filled his mug, watching the frenetic energy of Eddie's cleaning spree.

“When's she gonna be here?” Wayne asked, nose still buried in his morning cup of joe.

“Noon.” Eddie paused for the first time in several minutes, a dumb smile plastered on his face, “She was gonna try to get on the road early.”

“You tell ‘er I said ‘hi’ ”. The gray-haired man discarded the empty cup in the sink, rinsing it before fishing the wallet from his pocket. “Here, some cash for food, my treat.”

“Thanks, Wayne. An’ will do.” Eddie snatched the bills from his uncle, stuffing them in his back pocket as he continued to clean.

“Slow down, kid. You're gonna break something by hurrying around like that.” A chuckle accompanied Wayne's half-hearted joke.

“Jus’ want it to be good, ya know?” The quip was full of worry and nervous anticipation. This level of care was reserved only for you.

Spurred into action, Wayne slowly made his way to Eddie, ignoring the ache in his knees and back. With perfect timing, he was able to catch his nephew by the shoulder, holding him in place for just a moment. Ever the father figure, Wayne gave Eddie a once-over, admiring the frazzled young man before him. Wild curls framed his face, lying over his shoulder. The white t-shirt he'd chosen for the day was nicer and newer than what the young man usually gravitated toward. Even the frayed black denim that clung to his hips was less battered than normal.

“It's gonna be great, son. Besides, since when has a little clutter ever mattered to her before? Never.” Wayne nodded, encouraging Eddie to relax, “She's put up with your messy ass for years, that's not gonna change. Okay?”

“Okay.” Eddie grinned a bit wider. The younger Munson's shoulders dropped, the weight of his anxiety dissipating with the steadiness of his uncle's words. Wayne continued to babble about emergency contacts as if the pair of you weren't full-blown adults who were both fully capable of taking care of yourselves.

Shortly after, Wayne took off for his fishing trip, leaving Eddie alone in the trailer. Try as he might to occupy his mind, nothing worked. Saturday morning cartoons played silently in the background, useless as a distraction. The steady bounce of his knee from his seat on the couch had the rickety floor practically screaming. His ears were keyed to full attention, listening for the sound of a grumbling engine peeling down the lane toward the trailer. It was a sound he knew we would never forget.

Sooner than expected, the telltale sign of your approach poured through the thin siding. Eddie sprung to his feet and took off toward the door. Outside on the porch, he shielded his eyes from the sun, squinting in your direction. The pounding of his heart was loud in his ears, nearly blocking out the sharp grind of your brakes as you came to a stop. The beautiful sound of your voice snapped him out of his stupor. You were really here, and in a few quick strides, he was to you, arms open wide to pull you in.

“Eddie!” You laughed into his chest on an exhale, wrapping your arms around his lithe frame. He matched your enthusiasm, holding you tight in a monster of a hug. The sound of your name on his lips warmed you to the core.

Not ready to let go, you buried yourself in his chest, inhaling the sharp scent of tobacco and body spray that clung to him. Eddie whispered into your hair, hoping to make the moment last.

“I missed you so fuckin’ much.” You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin as he spoke.

“Miss you too, Eds.” Your hands bunched the back of his shirt, twisting the fabric between your fingers. The two of you stayed like this, letting time pass unchecked, and the morning sun beat down on you. Guard down and safe, you were caught off kilter by the wave of emotions that rolled over you. The bridge of your nose burned, crinkling your face in an attempt to keep the feeling down. The protective embrace made that task difficult. A steady palm on the low of your back finally broke the dam.

Eddie could feel the way you held him tighter, shoulders stiff and face hidden from view. With a shaky breath, he held the back of your head, wishing for you to look at him.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Genuine concern built at the sight of your watery eyes.

“Nothing, I jus’ - I missed you. ” You hiccuped, unable to find the right words to explain how you were feeling. On the balls of your feet, you captured his lips, letting the depth of your love bleed into the embrace.

“Me too, Sweetheart.” He cooed, dipping his head to speak in soothing tones along the shell of your ear. Eddie rocked side to side, willing you to relax in his arms. The less-than-delicate art of distraction managed to work. You went boneless in his arms and made no move to rush inside. His chin rested on the crown of your head, giving him space to breathe through it all. The last time you'd spoken on the phone, he heard the exhaustion in your voice. Work and school were beating the shit out of you, but everything was normal, or at least that was how it seemed. Fearing he'd missed something, Eddie made it his mission to bring you the rest and rejuvenation he knew you needed so desperately.

“Sorry, Eds… I didn't mean to get all… well, whatever that was.” Weak and weary, you knew there was no judgment, and yet you couldn't help the habit of apologizing.

“You've got nothin’ to say sorry for, Sweets.” Feeling you lift from his chest, he matched you. Red rimmed eyes and puffiness painted a clear picture of the stress you'd been under.

“Why don't we go inside, yeah? We can talk if ya want or we can… take a nap?” His tone rose at the end, suggesting that he wanted the second option without saying it outright. You took the bait without question.

You couldn't help but chuckle, “A nap sounds so fuckin’ good.”

“Nap it is then.” Eddie very reluctantly let you step from his arms. He trailed behind by half a step, letting you lead the way. Sheepishly, he watched you take in the familiar sight of his humble home.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie… It's so clean.” You gaped at the tidy rooms.

“You say that with such disbelief.” Still behind you, he beamed with pride at your compliment.

“Can you blame me?” You glanced back at him, teasing him with a soft smile.

“Nah, you're right, you always are.” Eddie came to your side, his hand gently resting on the low of your back.

“Not always.” You couldn't meet his eyes, and for the second time that day, he found himself uncertain of how to proceed.

“Come on, you said nap, so… let's nap.” He waggled his eyebrows, nudging your shoulder with his. Down the hall in a few short strides, you followed in his wake.

The inside of his bedroom was just as you remembered it. Cassettes were stacked on every available surface. Random notebooks filled with unfinished song lyrics were tossed about with far too many broken guitar picks to count. And of course, his prized possession, the beautiful blood red guitar, hung from the wall. You perched yourself on the corner of his bed, taking it all in as Eddied rummaged about his dresser. Whatever he was looking for took longer than expected to find, giving you plenty of time to admire the sight before you.

From the relative privacy of your spot, you noticed the way his t-shirt sat perfectly over the muscles of his back. Each movement displayed his quiet strength, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive a person wild. While the black jeans hung low, letting a sliver of his plaid boxer peak over the top, and only serving to perfectly highlight the shape of his thighs. But it was the stunning grin that greeted you as he turned back in your direction that set your soul alight.

“Here.” he came to your side rather than tossing the shirt in his hand. “figured you'd want something comfy.”

The threadbare cotton of his old Metallica shirt was buttery to the touch. Eddie sat beside you in silence. His focus flitted between your face and your hands, where you worked the fabric between your fingers.

“You wanna talk about it… or?” He opened the floor for a conversation you knew was needed, but so earnestly wanted to avoid.

Avoiding the pit in your stomach, you switch focus. “I can't believe you kept this.” You could feel him watching you, observing, constant and kind. The silence that bloomed between you was far heavier than he'd anticipated for what was meant to be a weekend full of fun, lighthearted, and joyous hours spent with the person he cared about most in the world.

You'd promised you'd keep it together, that you'd shove down the worst of yourself for a few short days, but that was becoming an impossible task. Perhaps that was something that needed to be added to your growing list of failures, moral and otherwise.

“You know it's yours if you want it, right?” Soft and tender, Eddie scooped your hand in his. Palm to palm, he rubbed tight circles in the divot beside your thumb. A shaky breath was followed by a jagged huff of laughter as you snapped yourself back to the present.

“I know… but then what reason would I have to come back to this rust bucket of a trailer?” Real laughter blossomed from the pair of you, shoulders bumping with the shake of your bodies. The mood was lighter than it had been before. The sound of his joy was the antidote to everything that ails you.

“Whatever you say. I guess if you won't be gracing us with your presence here… that means I'll have to come annoy you there.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Your gut twisted, anxiety hot and heavy. Twisting to the side, you tucked a leg up on the bed, “Though I do have to warn you… my prude of a roommate might just burst into flames with your metalhead ass traipsing around… now that I think about it, maybe we should plan a trip, like right now.”

Sarcastic as ever, and hiding the truth, you grabbed for his hand, making a show of pretending to drag him out of the room. Eddie went with you, taking a few long strides toward the door before stopping dead in his tracks. Hand still in yours, he tugged gently, turning you to face him. The humor in his eyes melted to something far more intimate. Crinkled lines formed at the corners of his doe eyes.

“You say the word and I'm there.” Eddie's broad palms toyed with the bottom of your hoodie. He made no drastic moves, staying wordless as he let his touch drift higher, skimming over your ribs. The stiff wire of your bra met his fingertips, the first true barrier he'd encountered. A faint nod of acquiescence pushed him to keep going. In an awkward dance, he managed to rid you of your hoodie, discarding it at your feet.

Woozy and breathless, you held the sides of his neck, your fingers buried at his nape. Eyes fluttering shut, you focused only on the lazy patterns Eddie dragged over your skin. His fingertips brushed over sensitive spots, sending shivers down your spine and catching the air in your lungs. With fluid practice, he unhooked your bra, pushing the straps from your shoulders with ease.

“This alright?” Eddie hesitated, drawing close enough for his lips to brush yours.

“Very.” The huff of his laughter fluffed your hair at the temple.

“Good.” He captured your mouth, the embrace languid and full. The taste of mint on his tongue mixed with a hint of the cigarettes he was so unwilling to give up. Feather-light and teasing, he ghosted over your chest, rolling your nipple between his fingers. A tiny gasp of surprise and pleasure sprang free from you, and he swallowed it with pride.

Eddie let his free hand wander, drifting to the rolled waist of your sweatpants. The worn cotton was thin under his touch as he played with the edges. Your hips bucked, shocked at the sudden intrusion but desperate for more. A shudder ripped down his nerves at the feeling of you, ready and waiting for him. Deft fingers slipped further down over your underwear, letting the pressure build as he reached where he knew you wanted him the most.

“Fuck, Eddie.” You tugged at his curls, your fist sturdy and insistent. Eyes closed, you fought against the distractions all around, wanting only him. You pawed at him, grinding against the heel of his palm that pressed to sweetly against your clit.

“Use your words, Sweetheart.” He pulled back, holding you by the chin. His gaze was syrupy and lust-filled. The chocolate of his eyes was lost in the inky black of pupils. “Tell me what you want.”

You choked on your thoughts, the words jumbled in a messy heap at the back of your throat. A needy moan was all you could manage.

“I need you to say it,” Eddie demanded, forceful and sultry. His lips ghosted over yours, close enough to touch, but holding you at bay. The delicious attention he’d been giving dropped away fast. His grip at the base of your neck tightened, keeping you in place, just far enough away for him to look you in the eyes. His voluminous curls fell around his face, sticking to the light sheen of sweat at his temples. There he waited, willing and eager for your answer, but adamant in his demand.

“I wanna feel you, Eds. Let me-” He cut you off, slamming your mouths together. Tongues clashed in a desperate embrace. You both needed more from the other. Moving with the clumsy sway of one who’d grown too quickly for his body to catch up, Eddie turned you around, walking back toward the bed until your knees bumped the mattress.

You buckled, falling more harshly than he’d wanted, but it didn’t matter. Eddie went with you, letting his weight rest between your thighs. Terrified of losing the momentum, he wrapped a broad hand around the outside of your leg, hauling it higher on his hip. A force of habit and instinct had him rolling in your core, painfully hard and thankful beyond measure for the tiny bit of relief it gave him.

You clawed at him, raking up under his t-shirt and marking the swath of pale skin with angry pink lines. “Too many-”.

He knew exactly what you meant and made quick work of his shirt, throwing it far away into the vast abyss of his room. Free to explore his exposed skin, you nipped at his shoulder, soothing the bites with your tongue as he did the same along your neck. The marks were sure to be bold and unmistakable tomorrow, but neither of you gave a flying fuck about that.

Eddie worked his way lower, burying his face in your chest. The faint murmur of words against your skin sent you reeling. You had no idea what he’d said, but it didn’t seem to matter. He continued, dipping lower, kissing every inch of you he could find. The top of your sweats came into view, blocking his dissent. Tired of waiting, he gripped the fabric tightly, tugging it roughly down your body. They, too, were discarded in the depths of his room, where they were to be forgotten until social graces demanded that the pair of you clothe yourselves once more.

Knelt beside the bed, Eddie traced messy patterns from ankle to knee, following with his lips in the wake. Shivers raced down your spine, anticipation growing with every centimeter he gained. You reached for him, not quite able to find purchase in his curls. Mouthing at your inner thigh, he whispered his next demand.

“I wanna see your eyes.” He pulled back a bit, waiting for you to move, and it didn’t take long. Sitting up on your elbows, you locked eyes with him. A sly smirk was all you got before he returned to the task at hand. Hot, open-mouthed kisses paved the way to where you wanted him most. The threadbare cotton of your panties was damp with slick, and it sent him reeling.

The sturdy bridge of his nose nudged at your core, earning him a delicate whimper. His huff of laughter was warm, but it paled in comparison to the heat that rolled off you. Careful and slow, he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, pulling it to the side, groaning at the sight. Eddie’s gaze flicked to you, ensuring that you were keeping your end of the bargain. A haze had settled over you, weak and boneless already, and he couldn’t wait to take you apart.

Eyes glued on you, he dipped his head, running the flat of his tongue over you. A rumbling groan broke, unburdened and beautiful, blending with a wicked gasp that erupted from you. Your fists clenched the blanket as he adjusted his position so that your legs fell over his shoulders. “Doin’ so good for me, Baby Girl.”

“Fuck, Eddie.” You couldn’t help it. Your back arched as he dove back in for more. The elastic of your panties bit into your skin, the harder he pulled them out of the way. Eddie worked his way higher, finding your clit. He played you perfectly, licking and sucking just where you needed. He knew you were getting close. The plush of your thighs bracketed his ears despite his attempts to hold you still, but he didn’t care.

Calloused fingertips entered the dance, curling wetly against that spot that drove you wild. Sucking air through unsteady lungs, you moaned gritting your teeth as your release broke white-hot over you. Nerves fired in waves as you clenched around him. Eddie relented only when he felt you go lax in his arms, your body twitching with his continued attention.

Eddie crawled back up your body, capturing your lips. The heady taste of you was heavy on his tongue. He hummed into the kiss, letting the pair of you breathe for a moment, but knowing full well, neither of your were done.

“You still have too many clothes on, Eds.” You chuckled lightly, reaching between you to brush over his hard-on. Blindly, you felt for his belt, deftly sliding the ends apart. Eddie let you work, focusing instead on teasing the spot along your neck that he knew was enough to get you going again. The pop of his button was followed by the zip of his fly, allowing the heavy weight of his jeans to slide down his hips.

Slow and steady, you slipped your hand inside, palming over his dick. Eddie whimpered at the touch. He strained at the blue plaid boxers, which were his favorite. On a sudden burst of confidence, you threw your weight up from the bed and turned, pinning Eddie beneath you. Your hips bracketed his as he stared up at you with wide-eyed surprise.

Your palms rested on his chest, tracing the lines of his tattoos. Black curls spread wide around his face, framing him in darkness. Eddie was, without a doubt, stunning. His strong hands found your hips, ready to follow you in whichever direction you decided to take. Your chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, keeping you still even with the reverberating energy that ran through your body. Leaning forward, you mouthed at his chest, pulling his nipple between your teeth and pulling lightly.

His hips jolted at the feeling, and you took advantage. Rolling your hips, you let your weight glide over his erection. Heavy pants filled the space around you, and it was glorious. Filled with a surety you only ever felt with him, you kept going. Face to face with Eddie, you kissed him languidly, making him chase you for more.

Moving along his jaw, you could hear every tiny sound he tried to valiantly hold in drift across the shell of your ear. Reaching his, you nipped at the lobe before leaning in further to whisper.

“I wanna taste you.” You felt him buck beneath you, “You want that too, Big Boy?”

“Yes… fuck yes.” Eddie was breathless, barely able to form a coherent thought. His eyes were screwed shut as he tried to hold himself together.

“That’s what I thought.” Hovering over his face, you smirked into the kiss. It was fast and hardly enough to satisfy.

Without warning, you stood from the bed. At this, Eddie’s eyes flew open, following you, but making no move to sit up. He watched with rapt attention as you worked your ruined panties off your body. The limp garment fell to your ankles, where you flicked it away with your toe. Eddie couldn’t help himself. His gaze raked from head to toe, committing this version of you to memory.

“You still with me?” You asked, getting close enough to put a hand on his knee.

“Yeah.” He nodded his head a bit to vigorously, and it was adorable.

“Good.” You rested part of your weight on the bed, working as best you could to rid him of his jeans and boxers. Free from their protection, and harder than he could imagine, Eddie groaned as his dick slapped against his stomach. In awe, you reached for him, your fist closing around him. A low grumble rolled from him at your attention, his hips jerking against his will as you kept going.

The pad of your thumb ran over his tip, collecting the bead of pre-cum that leaked from it. You stayed like this for a moment, gauging just how close he really was, and loving him for it. “You’re so beautiful, Eds.”

The rest of your weight came onto the mattress, letting you take what you so deeply wanted. Normally, you were one for teasing, for prolonging the main event, you both were, but this was not the time. Eddie was right there for the taking, and you were in no mood to deny yourself. Gently, you tested the water, taking his tip between your plush lips, and he was right there with you.

Eddie’s fingertips slipped into your hair, not forcing anything, but holding you close. The smooth bob of your head built in intensity with each passing second. The broken sounds of pleasure that poured from him kept you going. You could tell he wanted more, that he was holding back for your benefit, not wanting to overstep a boundary.

A lewd pop echoed as you pulled off of his, turning your head to look him in the eyes. You watched Eddie sit up on his elbows, a worried look washing over him, but you didn’t give it time to take hold.

“You wanna fuck my mouth, Eds?” You asked low, your hand resting high on his inner thigh as you spoke.

“Yes.” He’d gotten to the point where words were failing him. His eyes were blown, no amount of brown remained to be seen in this lighting.

“Then do it.” You dropped back off the bed and onto your knees, your palms resting on your thighs.

“Holy shit.” Eddie moved on instinct, his desire for you guiding his actions. Standing up, he looked down at you, his hand lovingly holding the side of your head. You turned, placing a kiss on his palm before turning back to look up at him.

“Open your mouth.” There was a sharp edge to his words, a side of him you so rarely got to see now with your busy schedules and time apart.

Eddie’s grip adjusted so that he held your hair in a makeshift ponytail. Your jaw dropped open, ready and waiting for him. His free hand wrapped around his dick, stroking it a few times before he let the tip rest on your tongue. Amused at the fucked-out look in your eyes, he wasted no time. Eddie pushed forward, and you went with him. Your lips closed around his cock, wrapping him in your warmth. His hips snapped slowly and at first, growing with confidence as he listened to the muffled moans that ripped from you.

Roughly, he hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag. Pulling away for just a moment, he gave you a fraction of a second to catch your breath. Lips parted for him, you breathed through the discomfort, lust having blown apart your senses. This time Eddie pushed further than he had before, the tip of your nose brushing against his groin, and it was glorious. Like this, he stilled, his free hand coming to rest on your throat, stunned at the feeling of himself beneath your skin.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby.” Eddie praised, sending shockwaves down your spine. Heat pooled between your legs, and you chased after your own release. Your hand dipped between your thighs, finding your clit with ease. A heady moan reverberated through him, and instantly, he knew what you were up to.

“Hands off, sweetheart.” You gave in immediately to his request, whimpering around him at the loss. “That’s it, good girl.”

Eddie picked up his pace, hips moving with precision and desire. You could feel him getting closer to the edge as his rhythm began to falter, and you were ready. Looking up at him with hooded eyes, you let your hands wander. One gripped the back of his thigh, making sure he wouldn’t pull away before you both got what you wanted, while the other explored. It started fairly innocently, if anything, the pair of you were doing could be described as that, but it didn’t stay that way for long.

Fingertips bit into his bare ass, leaving red marks in their wake before sliding around between his legs. Gingerly, knowing he was overly sensitive, you cupped his balls, adding just the right amount of pressure. That was all it took. Above you, Eddie gasped, his hips thrusting hard into your mouth, where he let his release wash over him. Thick ropes of cum painted your tongue, but you didn’t swallow, not yet.

Before he was fully recovered, Eddie released your hair and spoke once more on a shaky breath, “Show me.”

He slid from you and watched with total reverence as your mouth opened wide, giving him the view he wanted. His come sat beautifully between your lips, earning you a deep hum of praise.

“Stunning,” He tucked an errant strand behind your ear, the gesture soft and loving, and in direct opposition to his next demand, “Swallow it.”

And you did without question. Satisfied, he hauled you to your feet, supporting your wobbly legs. Without a care in the world, he pulled you in for a kiss, his tongue deep as he tasted himself. The pair of you swallowed each other’s moans, letting the embrace linger as he dragged you back onto the bed. Your legs tangled, Eddie cupped your pussy, noting the way you jumped under his touch.

“There something you want, honey?” He teased, smiling from ear to ear at your neediness, having just absolutely wasted each other.

“I want- I said I wanted to feel you.” Your hand snaked between your body, finding him semi-hard and throbbing.

“That’s right, ya did.” Eddie rolled you onto your back, stealing your hand from him his cock as he pinned your wrists above your head with your own. With his free hand, he stroked himself, letting his shaky breaths invade your senses. There was nothing but the two of you, your body melding together in an embrace you’d flocked to time and again.

It didn't take long for him to be ready again. Blood rushed through Eddie’s body, flooding to the place he needed it the most.

“You ready?” He asked so sincerely that it nearly broke your heart because no matter how rough the pair of you got, it was always from a place of total love and devotion. He let go of your hands, freeing you to touch him as you pleased.

“Yes.” You wrapped an arm around his neck, burying your hand in his hair as you brought him down for a kiss. Eddie followed, pressing into you with tender care.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” Eddie shuddered at the sting of your nails down his back, but he didn’t mind. Lust radiated over his body, numbing the pain and leaving only pleasure. He took his time, letting you dictate the pace. Before long, the only thing he could feel was the velvet wrap of your body around him. There was you and only you. Not a single other thing mattered in the world apart from this, and for that, he was forever grateful.

Flush with your body, he waited, watching the furrow of your brow loosen as you adjusted to his size. When you were ready, Eddie held for just a second longer, meeting your eyes.

“I love you.” His confession was sincere, and while it wasn’t the first time those precious words had been spoken, they sent butterflies storming all the same.

“I love you, too, Eddie.” You leaned up just enough to capture his lips, sealing the moment for what it was, the truest expression of love.

He fell quiet, focusing on the way you fluttered around him, and trying not to fall over the edge to quickly. You were surrounded by Eddie, his body, his scent, the slick of his skin against yours, and it was heaven. You both knew this wasn’t going to last long; the previous adventures had seen to that.

Steady and sure, Eddie rolled his hips into yours. Each thrust rocked your bodies, overstimulated and sensitive. Sweet nothings tumbled from your lips, encouraging him to keep going. He could feel how close you were, the twitch in your hips growing stronger the longer he kept at it.

“Let go, baby, I got you.” That was all it took. Your body tensed, gasping sharply at the electricity that rattled your bones. Eddie gripped your hip firm enough to leave marks that were sure to bruise later, but you didn’t care. The arch of your back softened as the peak of your release waned, leaving you breathless and weak beneath him.

Eddie had yet to join you, but you knew he was close, and you wanted to feel him come apart. Soft hands held onto his body, finding the spots that drove him wild along his neck and chest. You laid a line of fire along his collarbone, biting hard and causing him to groan.

“Shit, I’m close…where do ya- where-” He fumbled his words, his concentration lacking for good reason.

“Inside.” This caused him to falter in earnest. His eyes locked on yours, shocked and excited in equal measure.

“You sure?” Eddie paused for a second, giving you time to answer.

“More than I’ve ever been.” You smiled a broad and all-encompassing grin.

There were no words to suffice at that moment, so Eddie let his body talk for him. His curls bounced around his face, shielding the pair of you in a protective bubble, and it was like this that he fell apart. You could feel him jerk, his hips flush with yours as he kept himself buried deep. The warmth of his spend was delicious.

Not ready to let you go, he turned on his back, taking you with him. Lying on top of his body, you peppered his chest with kisses. Eddie soothed your aching muscles, working in gentle circles across your lower back. The two of you relaxed into one another, breathing in time, slow and shallow.

You could feel him sink into the broken-down mattress beneath you, his shoulders falling slack as exhaustion tugged at his eyelids. Chin propped on his pec, you glanced up at him, his lashes hiding the depth of emotion in his eyes. A joy unlike any other warmed him from the depths of his soul, joining the smile that lifted his features.

“What’s got you smiling?” You half-joked, really wanting the answer, but knowing it might be elusive in a moment like this one.

“You… It’s always you.” Sitting up, Eddie brushed his lips against yours, rolling onto his side. In this new position, the two of you were finally parted. The loss of fullness had you whimpering, tender, and yet not wanting to let go.

“Sorry, sweets.” Careful to jostle you as little as possible, Eddie rolled out of bed. You could hear him rummaging around in the kitchen, the sound coming closer as he stopped by the bathroom. The door hinges creaked as he kicked it back open.

Eddie’s hair was thrown into a messy knot at the top of his head. Trapped in the crook of his arm were two cloudy plastic cups filled with water. The liquid sloshed dangerously close to the edge as he leaned down to set them on a semi-stable cardboard box next to the bed. With his hands free, he sat next to you on the bed, a damp rag ready to go.

“Come here.” You rolled on your back. A sudden tug at your knee brought you the rest of the way to his side. The movement was sudden, but not harsh, and entirely Eddie. You couldn't help the giggle that erupted at the thought.

“What?” He’d already brought the cloth to your skin, starting a your knee to let you adjust to the temperature.

“Nothin’ ” The warm water had cooled to an almost chilly state in the time it’d taken him to get back to you. The tiny flinch had him scrunching his nose, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s okay.” You let him work, his capable hands making quick work of the mess you’d made together. Done with the task, he tossed the rag away.

“Eddie!” You admonished, scoffing at his complete lack of care compared to the wild amount of cleaning he’d done in the living room and kitchen

“What?!” He laughed, already standing up to go and get it, “I got it, I got it.”

Rag in hand, he dropped it into the overflowing hamper in the corner of his room before making his way back to the bed. He took the spot next to you, reaching for the covers to lay them over both of you. You scooted closer, tucking yourself into his chest as he hauled you into his arms.

“How ‘bout that nap? Hmm?” Eddie offered, feeling you nod against him.

“Yeah… but… umm… can I- can I tell you something first?” You hesitated, not fearful of his reaction, but simply for the fact that saying it out loud felt like speaking it into reality, even though it already was.

“Of course.” Eddie felt you move, and he went with you. Sitting up, you tucked the blanket under your arms, your eyes staring daggers across the room. You let your weight fall into him, not wanting to look at him. He let you take your time; the silence that surrounded you was heavy.

“I’m leaving school.” The truth was out, fast and sharp, taking the weight of the world with it.

“What?” Eddie was in disbelief. “Wh-why… what happened?”

“They didn’t renew my scholarship.” An uncertain hand came to hold your cheek, turning your face to meet his. The tears that pooled began to fall, streaking down your face in heavy streams. "My grades were..."

“Hey, it’s okay… I mean it doesn't feel okay, but you’re okay.” Eddie rambled, trying his best to comfort you.

“What am I supposed to do? I- I don’t know- fuck!” You scrambled to find the right words, and none of it was right.

“You don’t have to have the answer to that right now, okay? You’re here, you’re safe… an’ we- we can figure it out together, alright?”

He held the sides of your face, begging you to listen, to breathe. The shallow nod of our head, let go of the vice on his lungs. With a heavy sigh, he pulled you into his chest. Tied together, the pair of you sank back on the bed, a tangle of limbs and tears. Holding you around the waist and by the nape of your neck, Eddie let you ride through the worst of the sobs.

As the shaking of your shoulders lessened, you felt yourself succumb to exhaustion. Sleep dragged you under, releasing you from the present for just a moment. Eddie fought against the call to slumber, staving it off until he was sure you were asleep. The steady rise and fall of your chest, and the warmth of your breath on his chest gave him permssion. Later, the pair of you would have time. Time to mourn what had become of your bright and beautiful plans. Time to make new ones, ones that led you forward together. And most of all, time to enjoy one another. The only thing whose certainty was never questioned, and that was certain to bring a smile, even during the most challenging of times.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things fic

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zulashi-the-writer · 1 day ago

Note

Hii💗 just came from your polyrujinu fic and absolutely devoured it, I saw that your request are open so I was thinking if you could write another polyrujinu fic but with a reader who has a secret identity 🤭

Like since both of them kept secrets from reader then why don't reader kept secrets from them😏

Honestly, I was thinking of reader being apart of alien stage, possibly a character like luka from alien stage?

And how would they react when they saw reader on stage😳 (I CAN SMELL THE DRAMA) and to not complicate things perhaps when reader is on stage she altered her appearance to be mostly unrecognizable 😚

If this request is overwhelming, you can just ignore this💖 (also would love more of poly rujinu crumbs even if it's not base on this request 🤭)

I'm really sorry I haven't watched Alien Stage🥲 so I hope you don't mind I'm making them apart of a band, which is K/DA

Biggest Fans

Poly Rujinu x Popstar Reader

Summary: when your secret comes out in the most terrible way and your walls come crashing down with the two most people in your life

1st/2nd person pov

"Ain't nobody bringing us down, down, down, down"- POP/STARS I sang into the mic, my mask making my hot breath fan into my face I held my pose as the crowd cheered, I stared out looking at all the band lights smiling underneath the fabric it feels amazing standing here, I relaxed from my pose along with my band mates taking a bow before running off stage peeling my mask off releasing a long awaited breath.

"Huntrix is here" one of our crew squealed making my body tense, my hands quickly rushed to put of the mask making a few mistakes as I watched them approach, Rumi smiled making my heart flutter "you guys were amazing" Zoey squealed rushing to hug all of us, the sudden pressure of her hug making me breathless, we all breathed out a 'thank you' leading them back to our changing room, we did a collab when we were just starting out so it's been a few times were we just hang out but my mask always stays on which they thankfully never question.

We plopped down on the couch with a huff Rumi sitting across from me on her phone most likely texting Jinu about dinner later, my heart jumped hearing my phone buzzed alerting me of a text, I watched her eyes flicker over with curiosity, I pulled it out, the screen switched on displaying her notification with a few hearts next to her name "hey guys I'll be back family calling" I laughed nervously standing up from my spot, walking into the connecting bathroom and shutting the door.

'Hey can I come over after this hangout???' my heart raced as my finger tips hung over the keyboard, I hate having to lie 'I'll be home late I have some new clients coming in for measurements, I have some snacks in the cupboard if your hungry' I typed out only to delete it 'I'm going to be here late tonight how about tomorrow?' I released a shaky breath as I pressed send, my eyes watched the double ticks turn blue, my breath catching as I saw the bubbles pop up and then disappear "everything ok in there" my body jumped and stumbled to catch my phone as it fell from my hands "y-yeah just a minute' I called out straightening up as I caught my phone, I checked one more time but no messages before slipping it back in my pocket.

It wasn't the first time I asked to move plans but they've done it to so she can't be that upset about it, I rolled my shoulders back relaxing them before leaving the bathroom, everyone was already standing by the door "so early" I asked confused Rumi only glanced at me before returning to her bandmate "yeah we got to bounce" Mira murmured her lips curled in a slight smile, we bid our goodbyes before they left.

"You know one of these days you are going to have to tell them" Madison spoke laying a gentle hand on my shoulder as I pulled off the mask, letting it hang loose on my fingers "I know your scared but they love you and I doubt they'd break up with you for being a superstar" she smiled before heading to her makeup chair, I stared at the ground in a daze 'how would it be if I told them' my mind went straight into a negative spiral it always does when it comes to them, I don't want to lose them, I just can't and them knowing I was lying would hurt them.

"Maybe" I murmured drowning out the conversation that continued sitting out the couch staring at my black screen no response or call just silent, it was nerve wrecking my phone dinged with a notification but it wasn't hers I tapped on it and it took me to a Insta live, jinu dancing with the band preforming on of their new songs, my heart fluttered he was just amazing "I'm gonna head out" I said standing up from my spot, I took off my mask and slid it into my pocket along with my phone.

I grabbed the rest of my things and waved everyone goodbye "remember I want the finished melody by tonight" our manager called out but I just waved him off and rushed into our drivers car that was waiting for me, we talked a little as my eyes traveled across the passing buildings watching the billboards switch between us, Huntrix and Saja Boys for the upcoming idol awards I sighed out of frustration throwing my head back against the head rest, this was so frustrating, why can't this be easy.

The car pulled up a hill nearing my small house slowly coming to a holt infront of its quaint garden, the beautiful wild flowers lit up by the small garden lights "goodnight" I smiled at the driver, stepping out of the car my body shivered at the cold night air, I just needed to shower I groaned in delight imagining the hot water racing down my body, I rushed into the house kicking my shoes off greeting the animals as I placed down my things heading straight for my room tearing off my clothes as I went, walking through my bedroom towards the bathroom I switched in the light before stepping into it, I was hit by the cold radiating off of the tiles.

My body quivered as I stepped into the shower turning on the water, a cold squeal leaving my throat as the cold water ran down my body before it started getting warmer, my body relaxed as the water heated up letting my hands ease my stiff muscles, once my body was relaxed I began to wash, combing my shampoo through my hair with my fingers letting the soap suds flow over my body I raised my head closing my eyes lifting my hand to rub my face, I i moved my hands to the tap starting to close it savoring the feeling of warmth till there was nothing left.

I grabbed my towel wrapping it around my body, flicking my hair forward wrapping it up too to dry, I walked into my room jumping onto my plush king sized bed grabbing my laptop bringing it infront of me "the finished melody here I come" I murmured stretching out my arms grabbing my headphones placing them over my ears, turned on my laptop scrolling to my music files watching the melody appear on my screen, pressing play the music was low in the background as I started feeling the beat "Is it really a surprise if I'm playing with your mind? And I treat you like a prize then I throw you to the side? Am I really that bad if I love to make you mad? And get happy when you're sad? Only care about a bag" my voice dwindled as I sung the new lyrics typing them as I go.

"In control That's how I like it and I'm never letting go, na-ah-ah Never had a soul (soul) So you ain't taking nothing from me when you go, na-ah-ah I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away" - Villains the music continued as the lyrics flowed out my life my eyes closed tight getting into the mood, my eyes scrunched closed as the lights flicked on, the lyrics caught in my throat, I opened my eyes looking towards the door to see Jinu and Rumi there their expressions almost unreadable, I rushed from my spot flicking my headphones from my head cringing as the song started playing on full volume "I-I" I didn't know what to say and quickly turned off the song shutting the laptops lid, I looked towards Rumi seeing her hold herself the look of hurt taking over her face "Rumi i-" I paused watching her throw my mask onto the floor infront of me.

"that yours" she questioned her voice low her eyes not meeting mine, I bent down grabbing it and mumbling a quick 'yeah' "why did you not tell us" she muttered moving uncomfortably on her feet I hated seeing her like this 'rumi' I said stepping forward but she stepped away from me making me holt in my movements I opened my mouth, my words coming out shaking "I don't know why I didn't tell you, I just didn't know how to bring it up now it seemed to late to tell you" jinu just looked between us not knowing what to say.

"you could've told me when we first collabed together or the second or how about the fifth" her voice slowly getting louder with each word leaving her lips "I'm sorry Rumi I really didn't know how to tell you" I said making her sigh and look down towards the ground "is that why you always cancel on us" jinu said his voice cracked like holding back emotions, I sighed heavily running my hands over my face "this isn't how it's supposed to happen" I breathed in frustration.

"let me guess you didn't want us to know" jinu muttered my mouth gaped "jinu you know that's not true" I said but he just shook his head moving out of the door "I think it best we leave so you can focus on your secret life" Rumi murmured following after him, I called out but no response just the sound of the closing door, I stumbled back sitting on the bed my hands gripping the edge of it, my phone dinging with messages, my chest heaving with every breath as I went over the conversation in my head imagining the different why it could've gone.

My body was stiff as I moved my hand to grab my phone, my eyes widening as I read their messages:

Rumi: I just need time to think I'll message you when I'm ready

Jinu: me too

My eyes fluttered as I sent a thumbs up exiting the chat seeing my manager send a message on our group:

Manager: The driver will pick you guys up at eight the plane leave at nine

Madison: los Angeles here we come🥳

Lexie: can't wait🎉

I switched my phone off as the messages kept coming, placing it down on the bed I fell back against the mattress turning away from the device, I don't know how long I laid there just staring off at the wall ignoring the world around me, my eyes finally moved once I heard a meow coming from the door it was my cat toasty sitting his big eyes staring at me "feeding time already" I murmured to him groaning as I slowly got up half my body asleep, I slowly made my way to the kitchen filling up their bowls petting them as they walked past me "I'm gonna miss you guys" I said smiling at them before walking back to my room to pack before bed.

I sat on my suitcase finally closing it 'done' I breathed a sigh of relief pushing it next to the other one, I grabbed my carry on from my bed placing it on my suitcase, I moved to sit on my bed looking at my phone, no notifications from them, I bit my lip contemplating if I should tell them "they did say I mustn't message them, but they do now so it's best that I do" I rolled my eyes at myself "what am I doing" I muttered throwing myself back onto the bed "why do relationships have to be so hard" I looked around my room seeing my lyric book laying on my bedside table, I sat up onto my elbows staring at it.

I moved to grab it, slowly paging through all the songs I've written about them, I've never showed anyone this because it's the most vulnerable I've been, my hands traced the page of the last song reading some lines over and over maybe it's time someone does read it, I ripped a blank page from the back grabbing a pencil and writing a letter to them, telling them I'm on tour, as I was almost done my eyes started to droop shut from exhaustion 'just a little nap' I thought shutting my eyes.

I wake up with the sun in my face, my phone buzzing with calls "shit" I muttered stammering to my feet rushing to get ready, the clothes I threw on look peculiar and wrinkled, brushing my hair till it looks somewhat decent and rushed with my bags to the kitchen to feed the pets "I'll see you guys soon, behave for mrs Morris" I called out rushing out the door waving to mrs Morris as she called out to me from her house, I shoved all my stuff into the boot before joining the girls in the car "dam when did you wake up" Madison laughed "3 minutes ago" I giggled making the others laugh too, my heart pinged with sadness as I remembered last night's events 'can't think about that right now' "we got a show tonight".

The stadium was packed with fans screaming widely as you performed the new song, but only the band and crew can see that you were distracted by something, the dance moves were a bit off and the timings a second too late it was frustrating you, how you couldn't get them off your mind but then you saw it a different fan light your favourite colour and the person holding it was jinu who was smiling and singing along to the lyrics "please give a warm welcome to our surprise guests Huntrix" Madison yelled making the crowd scream louder, I watched Rumi burst onto stage coming right next to me "I'm sorry" she murmured but I didn't care and embraced her "don't do that to me ever again" I whispered "I promise" she smiled as we slowly let go of each other, we performed our collabs while jinu cheered in the crowd I finally was all in with them by my side.

"I love you guys"

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inthelittlewood · 3 days ago

Note

The whole "releasing videos a day earlier for yt members" will also be applied to life series videos? I m guessing not, bc you have very few days to edit those and releasing them a day after everyone else would probably damage the viewership but asking just in case. It does make sense for misadventures videos tho

Not for Life series ones no. Otherwise that'd be me premiering before all the other players which would break embargo

It'll be for Misadventures and other videos where the timeline is under my control

Context for those confused: I've rolled out a very low cost member tier on YouTube where I'd like to share some BTS, early access to episodes and any other things people would like

I've also enabled members only chat on YT for now - partly as a spam deterrent as its been quite bad on there (and mod tools are poopy on YT) as well as layering it in as members benefit.

It felt better to make this step on YT rather than patreon or another alternative because it's more immediately accessible and familiar for most people.

If there is anything you'd like to see as content then let me know. Whether it's project files, timelapses, Q&As and the like

The reason for doing this is because financially the channel(s) / streams haven't been doing so hot financially. Whenever a month passes where there isn't a sponsored stream or post to make up the difference it's a bad time.

The hope is having a low barrier to entry for support will behave like the dollar drives (hence its naming) and lots of a little go a long way

If you have any other questions everybody, fire away!

(one to answer now is no, I don't plan on making a separate discord channel for subs/members. I prefer to keep everybody together buuuut I'll take a look at discord rank so people can showcase that support)

#inthelittlewood

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skyracha · 3 days ago

Text

500 Follower Part 1

Sex Education

[Bangchan/Maknae Line x Reader]

MDNI!!!!

Word Count: 6,554 😳

Not proofread

SYNOPSIS: Your boyfriend Bangchan decided his Maknae need a little lesson on intimacy… you say yes to helping him.

WARNINGS: Sex, unprotected P in V, F!Recieving and M!Reciving Oral, Rough Fingering, Nipple Play, Degradation AND Praising, Choking mentioned like one, Voyuerism and HEAVY Exhibitionism, Begging, Munch!Han, Male masturbation, Use of Pet names, i’m sure i forgot stuff im sorry

NO TAGS DUE TO CONTENT

My Library HERE :)

_________________________

"Hyung?”

Chan groaned, rolling his eyes as the youngest members of his group came running up to him, Seungmin, Felix, Han and Jeongin murmuring to each other with flushed faces.

"Can I help you?"

The older sighed, closing his phone as the four stopped in front of him. He was sat alone on the couch, everyone else doing their own thing and preparing for bed after a long day of practice and work. He wanted nothing more than to go up to his room, take a nice, warm shower and sleep the night away with you.

But his boys seemed to have other plans.

"We just wanted to know..." Jeongin started, looking over at Seungmin and fidgeting with his hands. "...How do you get a girl to sleep with you?"

"What."

"I mean," Seungmin piped up. "How do you get a girl to be willing to have sex with you? We're trying to figure out how to do it."

Chan blinked, unsure what to make of his bandmates words. Did they think he had some sort of secret knowledge that would give them the ability to bed any girl they wanted? That he was some sort of Casanova?

"What makes you think I have any idea?" He asked, leaning forward to place his phone on the table before them.

"Because you have a girlfriend." Jeongin huffed, clearly frustrated that the older man wasn't understanding what they wanted.

"And? You think all I do is have sex with her?"

"Well, yeah!" Han spoke up, gesturing to the door. "I walked in on you guys just last week fucking away on the couch like animals.”

Chan flushed red, recalling the time they had been caught and how quickly he had pushed you off his lap and pulled his pants back up, hiding the both of you from their curious gazes.

"You guys... You're young, okay? You don't have to worry about anything like that. Don't worry about things like sex until you're ready."

"We’re in our 20’s old man." Seungmin said, voice firm and resolute as he crossed his arms over his chest. The other maknae nodded in agreement, shifting their weight from foot to foot as they avoided the older's gaze. “We just want to know how. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

Chan groaned, looking at his phone with a frown before looking back up at the group before him.

He couldn’t tell them everything he knew. They were still young and inexperienced, and the last thing he needed was them trying to put their hands all over you.

But he couldn't let them keep thinking that the only way to a girl's heart was through her vagina.

"I'm not gonna give you a full list, but I can give you some tips."

A few days later, Chan approached you with the idea. “Hi Channie, how was your day babe?” Your voiced cooed as he walked into the kitchen of the dorms.

You had a towel in your hands and were busy cleaning the mess the boys had left behind after a meal, humming to yourself as you moved around.

He didn’t respond at first, instead approaching you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"My day was fine, just thought of something interesting. Wanna help me teach the kids a lesson?"

"A lesson?" You asked, turning your head slightly to look up at him. He hummed, kissing your cheek before speaking again.

"Remember a few days ago, when the kids asked me how to get girls to have sex with them?"

"Yeah, they said you didn't give them any real answers, though."

"That's because I didn't want them trying to seduce my beautiful girlfriend." He purred, hands sliding up your shirt to feel your bare skin. You giggled, reaching back and placing your hands over his.

"I think that's a great idea." You hummed, feeling him squeeze your breasts. "I think we should have a bit of fun with it. I have this weird desire to take this entirely too far.”

"That can be arranged."

You had taken the rest of the night and the next morning to prepare yourself. You had told Chan that you were going to make the most of the situation and have a bit of fun. You all gathered in you and Chan’s bedroom that night and went over some ground rules and boundaries.

But it had taken Chan no time at all to have you pinned beneath him, both of you naked. His deep voice was purring in your ear as he hands began roaming your body. You could sense the four pairs of eyes watching you two, but the sensation of Chan’s hands was entirely pulling your focus.

He had begun slowly, fingers gently ghosting over the curve of your neck, then the top of your breasts. His hands cupped your chest, squeezing the flesh as he pressed his lips against the spot where your neck met your shoulder.

Your hands lifted and grabbed his, and he watched you as you guided him to touch the soft buds on your chest. He didn't need much direction after that, his thumbs and forefingers coming up to pinch your nipples as he spoke to the four Maknae. “The key to having sex with a woman is finding what makes her tick. She has to feel good, she is your priority.”

You let out a soft moan, squirming beneath him as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. You could hear the four men to your left breathing hard, and you wondered what kind of faces they were making. Were their cocks already tenting their pants, or were they trying their hardest to maintain composure?

Chan didn’t stop, his lips traveling across your shoulder and to the other side of your neck, pressing light kisses across your skin as his fingers continued toying with your nipples.

"When she feels good, she's more likely to want you to fuck her. It's better for the both of you if she's wet and excited. You know how to find her clit, right boys?"

They didn't respond, and Chan stopped moving. One of the little perks you and him thought up. If the Maknae didn’t behave, then he’d punish you. You both knew the guys would get off on the imagery of you coming undone over and over, so why not use it to make them behave?

"Answer me, kids."

"Yes hyung."

“Good. I’ll make you guys show me later.” All four boys audibly gulped at the realization.

Chan removed his hands from your breasts, sliding his fingers down to press against your already soaked core. Your breath hitched, and you bucked against him.

"If you wanna please a girl, make sure to find her clit. It'll make her come a lot faster and harder than if you just start putting your dick in."

His fingers pressed against you, rubbing at the bundle of nerves, sending chills up your spine. You whined, legs spreading further on instinct as your eyes fluttered shut.

"Don't forget about the rest of her body, though. Girls like to have their breasts and nipples played with."

You whimpered as he began grinding against you, his hard cock pressing against where you craved it most. You reached down between your bodies, hand gripping his hip tightly.

"And, when she's getting close, make sure to give her something to hold onto. Let her dig her nails into you, or have her grab the sheets. If you really wanna have fun, let her nails paint your back in scratches.”

He pulled away, leaving your body cold as his hands slipped under your thighs. He yanked you forward to turn you towards the four other men, causing you to fall back and brace yourself with your hands. You watched with wide eyes as he got comfortable on his knees, his hands gripping the back of your thighs tightly.

You felt a surge of embarrassment wash over you.

You were spread for the four of them, dripping wet and wanting, your boyfriend between your legs.

"Now, I want you to watch this." Chan instructed, leaning forward and latching his mouth onto your clit. You moaned loudly, throwing your head back as he swirled his tongue around the bundle of nerves.

He was always so good at this.

Chan's hands slid from the backs of your thighs, and up your sides. He didn't hesitate to grab handfuls of your ass, and squeezed hard enough for you to let out a whine.

"Fuck, babe go easy!" He did just the opposite. Something primal awoke in him, as it always does. He was gonna ruin you, and when he was done, the four men watching would do the same.

His grip tightened, and you were sure his hands would leave bruises. He sucked at your clit, swirling his tongue around the little nub. Your hands came down to grip his hair, and you couldn't help but grind your hips against his face.

The sounds of his tongue working your pussy were absolutely filthy, and the way he was groaning into you was making the coil in your stomach wind tighter.

You didn't care about the audience, or how lewd the situation was. Your sole focus was the man between your legs, and the pleasure he was giving you.

"C-Chan! I'm gonna cum!"

"Then cum, baby." He hummed against you, and the vibrations sent you over the edge. You moaned loudly, throwing your head back and curling in on yourself.

You were panting, chest heaving as you tried to regain control of your senses.

"Now, did any of you see what I did?"

"You licked her pussy." Han blurted out, his face flushed and his hands shaking.

"Yeah, no shit. Did you notice anything else? Like, how I moved my hands, or where I put them?"

There was silence, and Chan let out an irritated huff.

He turned his head and looked over at the four Maknae, noticing their flushed faces and fidgeting hands. He was sure the four of them had hard-ons, and that they were aching to touch themselves.

But the thought of any of them being between your legs and eating you out?

Chan almost wanted to call off the whole thing.

Almost.

“Han get up.”

He stood, turning around and facing the four Maknae. He took a seat on the bed beside you, grabbing your arm and pulling you close. He kissed your temple, and whispered into your ear. “You’re gonna take a turn.”

Han slowly stood, trying to shift his weight to adjust the achingly hard cock pushing against his pants. The poor guy looked like he was gonna be sick, but there was a sparkle in his eye that made you excited.

Chan was a bit nervous. You had agreed to this, but was he willing to actually share you? Was it worth seeing the four maknae come undone?

Chan decided it was.

"You're gonna do exactly what I did, okay?"

"What if I fuck up?"

"I'll show you what to do, idiot." Bad cop.

“You’re gonna do great honey, I’ll help you.” Good cop.

Just another little perk you and Chan had decided on adding. Who doesn’t like getting degraded or praised?

Han kneeled between your legs, his eyes looking down at the mess between your thighs. You could tell he was nervous, and his shaking hands did little to reassure you that he could handle himself.

"Hands." Chan barked, and Han quickly placed his hands on the backs of your thighs. Chan reached over and gripped his wrists, moving his hands closer and forcing him to squeeze the supple flesh.

"Make sure you can reach everything."

Han gulped, nodding his head.

"What if I do a bad job?"

"If it doesn't feel good, she'll tell you."

He nodded, his grip tightening and making you shiver. He leaned forward, his warm breath fanning across your exposed pussy.

"Start with little licks, work up to the big stuff.”

“Wait!” It came out breathy, but all five guys looked at you. “You four feel so covered…please, don’t make me and Chan look so exposed.”

Seungmin, Jeongin, Felix and Han all shared a panicked look. It was true, you and Chan were completely void of clothes and the four of them were still fully dressed.

“Don’t want you to get messy now do we?” You cooed as you ran a hand through Han’s hair, him still kneeling between your legs, almost frozen.

One by one, they all got undressed.

Their hard cocks all bobbed and swayed with their movements, and the sight of their naked bodies sent a pulse straight to your pussy.

This was the best decision ever.

Han took a deep breath before he leaned forward, his tongue pressing lightly against your core.

You moaned softly, encouraging him.

Han seemed to get a bit more confident, his grip on the backs of your thighs tightening as he continued to lap at your pussy.

He wasn't very good.

His licks were a little too soft, his tongue moving in slow, wide motions. You let out a fustrated groan and Chan knew exactly what that meant. He fisted the hair at the back of Han’s head and guided his head deeper into you. Han’s nose pressed against your clit and you let out a loud moan at the sensation. “Get in there, don’t be gentle.”

You could tell Han was panicking. The younger was squirming against the harsh grip Chan had on his hair. His hands slid further up your thighs and grabbed a hold of your ass, squeezing roughly.

It was almost cute.

Chan didn't loosen his grip, though. If anything, he just held Han tighter.

"Make sure you pay attention, boys. When she's squirming, you know you're doing a good job."

You whimpered and rolled your hips, feeling his nose bump against your clit again. His grip on your ass was getting tighter, and the way his tongue was moving was making you see stars.

"Han, baby, you're doing so good."

Chan growled, his free hand moving up to grip your hip.

You could sense the tension coming from the older man.

Was he getting possessive?

You couldn't deny the thrill that sent up your spine.

"She's getting close." Chan growled, his grip tightening on the both of you. "If she tells you to stop, listen. She'll need a minute."

Han's pace sped up, and Chan released his hold on the younger, his hands going back to gripping the sheets.

You whimpered, squirming under his touch. You could feel the coil in your belly winding tighter, ready to snap.

"Han! I'm so close!"

Your orgasm hit you hard, and Han was quick to pull away. His chin was glistening, and he had a smug look on his face.

Chan’s breathing was tight as Han spoke. “I wanna do that again.”

Chan didn’t waste a moment. He reached out and grabbed the younger by the neck, pulling him close. He leaned forward, growling in his ear.

"You wanna taste her again? You think you can handle it?"

Han nodded his head, swallowing thickly. Chan hummed, letting go of his neck and moving to lay on his side.

"Good. Felix, come here."

The younger was quick to stand, walking around the bed and settling between your legs.

"You're gonna learn how to do this right, okay?"

Chan leaned up and placed his hand on the back of the youngest's head. He leaned forward, forcing the maknae's head down between your legs.

Felix's lips and tongue were a bit rough, and his technique wasn't the best, but he was eager to please. He would lick and suck at your clit, only stopping every once and awhile to take a breath.

"She likes her clit played with, not sucked on." Chan hissed, moving his hands to your hips. Felix pulled back and you whined, rolling your hips.

"Sorry, hyung."

"That's okay, sweetheart. You're learning. Here, let's try something." You sat up a bit and signaled to Chan.

Chan gently pushed him back and slid between your legs.

"Watch."

He didn't waste a moment, latching his mouth onto the sensitive bundle of nerves. You let out a high pitched squeal, squirming and grabbing his hair.

"You're a fucking tease, Channie." You breathed, grinding your hips against his face.

He didn't say anything, instead sliding his tongue down and pushing it inside of you.

"Fuck!"

Your back arched, and Chan pulled his mouth away from you. He looked at Felix and the maknae nodded.

"Don't suck, play with it with your tongue. Make sure to get her dripping wet, then push your tongue inside. And move your head with her, or you'll hurt her."

Felix nodded, his hands grabbing your thighs. He was eager to start again, and leaned forward. His tongue pressed against your clit, and he started moving his head like Chan told him to.

"Felix... baby, that's so good."

His tongue was a lot gentler than Chan's. His licks were shorter, quicker, but it was making you feel good as hell.

He wasn't hesitant about it, and the fact that he was doing what Chan said was a major turn on. You had always loved a man who followed orders.

You could feel his nails digging into your skin as he continued lapping at your clit. The pressure was building in your core, and you knew that you were going to come hard.

"I'm gonna come, baby."

"Good." Felix's voice was low and muffled against you.

You let out a loud moan, your body arching off the bed. Felix's tongue kept moving, even when your body went slack.

You were panting, and you could hear the others talking.

"That was really good."

"You think?"

"Yeah! It was really hot."

You rolled over, pressing your face into Chan's chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling against him.

"Chan... I need a break."

"Okay. We're taking a break."

The two of you got comfortable, laying down next to each other. Your head was resting on his chest, his arm around your waist and his thumb rubbing small circles into your side.

"What about us?" Seungmin spoke up, looking at the two of you with a pout.

“C’mere.” You sat up and gestured Seungmin to stand in front of you as you laid on your stomach, his cock in your face.

Your boyfriend had a firm grip on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. Seungmin was hesitant, his hands shaky as he placed them on your head.

You opened your mouth, looking up at the boy.

Seungmin was the biggest of the four Maknae, but his size wasn’t gonna scare you off.

"I'm gonna suck you off, okay?"

Seungmin's breath hitched, his grip on your hair tightening.

"O-Okay."

"Tell me when to stop."

You took him into your mouth, your hands grabbing the backs of his thighs.

Seungmin whimpered, his grip tightening on your head. He was careful not to push you, though, and the fact that he was letting you lead the pace was a huge turn on.

You could feel Chan's hands slide up your back, his fingers brushing against your spine.

"Keep going." He whispered, and you moaned, closing your eyes and sucking Seungmin's cock.

The taller let out a loud moan, his hand grabbing your head. His hips began bucking forward, and his cock slid deeper down your throat.

"F-fuck, you feel so good."

Chan's hands squeezed your hips, pulling you back a bit. "Slow down."

"But she feels so good."

Chan hummed, leaning forward and kissing your neck. His hands moved up and cupped your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze.

You moaned, and Seungmin let out a loud groan.

"I-I'm close."

"Good." Chan purred, his hands sliding back down to your hips. He leaned forward and pressed his chest against your back, his cock rubbing against you.

You whimpered, rolling your hips. You could feel his cock slipping between your legs, his shaft rubbing against your pussy.

Seungmin's grip on your hair tightened, his cock pulsing in your mouth. You sucked hard, swirling your tongue around the tip.

"Gonna cum."

"Do it, baby." You purred, looking up at him through your lashes.

Seungmin's cock twitched and he let out a loud moan. His hot cum spilled into your mouth and you swallowed, moaning at the taste. "Fuck, that's so hot,” he mumbled.

You pulled back, wiping the back of your mouth with the back of your hand. "How was that?"

"That was amazing."

You smiled, sitting up and kissing his cheek.

"You guys wanna get back to it?"

They nodded eagerly, and you giggled, leaning forward and kissing Chan deeply. He hummed, his hand reaching up and cupping your cheek.

"I love you." You said against his lips.

"I love you, too." He smiled back.

You were the first to get into position, laying down on the bed and spreading your legs. Chan spoke up, “The next thing I’m gonna show you is how to fuck her with your fingers. You gotta be careful, you do it wrong and she gets hurt.”

Seungmin was the first to step forward, his face flushed as he got between your legs.

He was shaking slightly, his fingers twitching as he brought them closer to you.

Chan moved behind him, placing his hands on top of Seungmin's.

"Start with one finger. If she says it's too much, add a little bit of spit and try again. You're gonna wanna curve them upwards, and move them in and out."

Seungmin nodded, his finger pressing against your entrance. You let out a soft whine, biting your lip as his finger pushed inside.

"Now move it in and out, slowly. Like I said, if she says stop, stop."

"O-okay."

Seungmin moved his finger in and out slowly, his gaze focused on your pussy.

You whimpered, rocking your hips.

"Seungmin, that feels really good."

"Does it?"

"Yes, baby."

"That's good. You're doing a good job, Minnie." Chan hummed, moving his hand to his shoulder. "Now add another finger."

Seungmin nodded, pulling his finger out and adding another. He pushed them both inside slowly, watching your face for any signs of discomfort.

"Good. Now move them."

Seungmin's fingers began moving, the feeling of him fucking you with his fingers was making you dizzy.

"She likes it when you curl your fingers a bit. That spot is a girl's best friend."

"Curl?"

"Yeah, like this."

Chan's fingers curled up , demonstrating the motion and the younger's eyes went wide. He mimicked the motion, curling his fingers and brushing against your g-spot.

"F-Fuck! There!"

"There?"

"Yes, fuck, keep doing that."

You reached down and began rubbing your clit, moaning loudly as the pleasure was starting to overwhelm you.

Seungmin continued fucking you with his fingers, his pace speeding up. Your moans were getting louder, and your grip on the sheets was tight. You could sense the more Seungmin got comfortable, the more he got into it.

"Minnie, I'm gonna cum!"

"Go ahead. Cum."

Your orgasm hit hard, and you cried out. Your entire body was shaking, and you were gripping the sheets tightly.

"That was so good." You breathed, looking up at him.

Seungmin beamed, pulling his fingers out and then tapped your chin with his other hand. “Open up.” You obeyed and he shoved his fingers in your mouth as you sucked them clean of any trace of you.

"Fuck." Jeongin mumbled, his cock twitching.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Han asked as Seungmin began to go back to sitting down.

“I saw it in a porno once.” He shrugged.

"Don't worry, Innie. You're next."

"Wait." Jeongin spoke up, his cheeks flushed and his eyes darting away from the scene before him. "I don't know if I can do this."

Chan and you shared a look, before Chan responded.

"Why not? Do you not want to?"

"I just, I'm scared. What if I hurt her?"

"Then she'll tell you. If she doesn't feel good, she won't be shy about letting you know."

"But what if I do something wrong?"

"I'll guide you. Come here."

Jeongin hesitated for a moment before walking towards the two of you. Chan guided him, pulling him closer and placing his hand between your legs.

"She's still a bit wet. That's a good thing."

"Really?"

"Yes. It means she's turned on. It's a good thing." Chan gently pushed two of Jeongin's fingers inside, and the younger let out a soft gasp.

"She's warm."

"It feels really good, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

Chan began guiding his fingers, pushing them in and out slowly.

"This is how you fuck a girl. Slow, deep thrusts."

"Okay."

"And don't forget, make sure to hit her g-spot."

"G-spot?"

"Yeah. It's a super sensitive area. Curve your fingers, like this."

Chan guided his fingers, showing the youngest how to curl them. He brushed against your g-spot, and you let out a loud moan.

"Found it!” He looked to Chan, shocked and semi-proud of himself. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself.

Jeongin's pace picked up, his thrusts becoming faster.

"She likes it when you're rough. She's not made of glass, Innie. Go as hard as you want, but make sure to give her a second to breathe."

"Yes, hyung."

His pace sped up, his thrusts getting rougher.

"I'm close, Innie." You gasped, grinding your hips against his fingers.

"Come for me." He said in a breath, his thrusts becoming harder.

Your orgasm hit you hard, and you threw your head back. Jeongin's pace didn't slow, his thrusts growing more aggressive.

"Innie, fuck." He pulled his fingers out and moaned as he licked them clean.

"You're doing so well, baby." Chan hummed, kissing the your cheek.

"Now, I wanna watch you finger her." Jeongin spoke up, shy despite what he just did.

Chan and Jeongin switched places, Chan’s fingers pressed against your entrance, pushing inside and curling immediately.

You whimpered, grinding against his fingers. Chan’s pace was fast and rough, and it was making your head spin.

"She likes it rough. She loves it when you fuck her hard."

Jeongin nodded, his hand wrapped around his cock. His hand moved up and down his length, and his breathing was ragged.

"Channie." You whined, rolling your hips against his fingers.

"Come on, baby. Come for me."

You let out a loud moan, grinding your hips against his hand as you came.

"Fuck." Chan purred, pulling his fingers out.

"You wanna taste her?" He signaled to Felix.

"Y-Yeah."

Chan brought his fingers to the younger's lips, and Felix eagerly licked them clean.

"God, she tastes so good."

"You can have more later.” Chan hummed, standing up and moving over to the youngest.

“What’s next?” Han said, his hand lazily stroking his cock, the head red and angry.

“You’re gonna fuck her.”

The two of you shared a look and you smirked, laying back down and spreading your legs.

Chan helped the boy line himself up, the head pressing against your entrance.

"Take it slow, okay?"

Han nodded, pushing his cock inside slowly. You moaned, throwing your head back as he slid inside.

"F-Fuck." He groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Good?"

"So good."

"Don't be afraid to fuck her. She can take it."

Han didn't hesitate. His pace was quick, and he was hitting all the right spots.

"God, you're so fucking tight."

"Han...you're doing such a good job."

Chan was still beside the two of you, his eyes dark and his expression hungry. “Baby-“ You reached your hand out to him and grabbed ahold of his cock. Your hand made work of your boyfriend while Han fucked into you at a delicious pace.

"She feels so good."

Chan chuckled, his cock throbbing in your hand. "I know she does."

"Fuck, I'm close."

"Come on, baby. Cum for me."

Han's thrusts became harder, his nails digging into your hips. His cock pulsed and twitched, and his breathing was erratic.

"C-Can I come inside?"

"Yeah, baby. Come for me."

Han's cock pulsed, his hot seed shooting deep inside you.

"God, that was good." He panted, pulling his cock out.

"You think?"

"Yeah." He laughed, ”I really wanna eat her out again.”

Chan's gaze darkened and he growled, "It’s my turn to show you how it’s done first.”

Chan's hands grabbed your hips and pulled you down the bed. He stood between your legs, his cock rubbing against your entrance.

"You ready for me, baby?"

"Always, Channie."

Chan hummed, and pushed himself inside. You gasped, your hands flying to his arms.

"Fuck, Channie."

Chan began pounding into you, his pace rough and brutal.

"Look at you. Taking me so well. You're such a good girl." His chest was pressed against yours, his words of praise tickling your ear.

His hand reached up and wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently.

"You're mine."

"All yours."

"That's right. Mine."

Chan's hand squeezed tighter and his thrusts got harder. You were quickly becoming a whining mess.

"You're not gonna last long, are you?"

"N-no."

"That's okay. You can come whenever you want."

"W-What about you?"

"Don't worry about me. Just come."

You let out a loud cry, your orgasm hitting you hard. You clenched hard around his dick, and he visibly jolted at the feeling of you gripping him.

"Such a good girl. I'm almost there."

"Come for me, Channie."

"I'm so close."

"Please, baby."

Chan's cock pulsed and he let out a low groan, his hips stuttering as he came.

He stayed inside you for a few moments, his forehead resting against yours.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm great. Are you?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

You hummed, turning your head to look at the boys. They were all staring at you with wide eyes and open mouths.

"Did you guys enjoy that?"

"It was awesome." Felix looked like he was about to combust.

"You looked amazing." Seungmin cooed as he began approaching the bed.

"I didn't know you could be so dirty, hyung." Jeongin ran a hand through his hair as he ran his eyes over your body.

You chuckled, turning back to face your boyfriend. He kissed your cheek and pulled out, laying beside you.

"I'm not sure I could get hard again for a while, baby. Give the boys some attention.”

"Okay." You sat up and grabbed Jeongin's wrist. "I want you."

Jeongin didn't hesitate, climbing onto the bed and pushing himself inside.

"Oh, fuck. You feel so good, baby."

"So do you."

Jeongin's hips were sharp and quick, his pace fast.

"I'm not gonna last long."

"It's okay sweetheart, just keep going-Fuck!”

Chan's voice filled the room.

"Wait a second." Jeongin slowed his motions as Chan grabbed his wrist and placed his hand on your clit. “If you know you aren’t gonna last long enough for her to finish, help her get there faster. Play with her clit.”

Jeongin nodded and his thumb started rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves. Your eyes fluttered shut and your back arched off the bed, the feeling of both sensations beautifully overwhelming.

"I'm close. So close."

"Me too."

You felt another hand join the one between your legs. You opened your eyes and looked up, seeing Seungmin kneeling beside you. His cock was in his hand, his strokes quick and erratic.

"C-cum with me, sweetheart." You placed your hand on Jeongin’s arm. "I'm close, just keep going."

"Fuck, me too." You could feel his thrusts becoming harder, his breathing ragged. His pace was brutal, and his grip on your thigh was painful.

"Seungmin."

"Yeah, baby."

"Kiss me."

"As you wish."

Seungmin leaned forward and his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was hungry and messy, and his tongue invaded your mouth. You moaned into his mouth, your orgasm quickly getting ready to snap.

"Gonna cum." Your orgasm hit hard, and your whole body shook. Jeongin's cock pulsed, and his hot seed spilled inside you.

"Shit." He pulled out, and collapsed beside you.

Seungmin didn't stop kissing you, his grip tightening on your waist as you sat up. “I wanna ride you. Sit against the headboard.”

Seungmin nodded, sitting up and positioning himself. He gripped his cock, rubbing the head between your folds and you both groaned.

"She feels so good hyung." Seungmin looked to Chan.

"Fuck me, Seungmin." Seungmin's hands rested on your hips and he slowly pushed himself inside. Seungmin began rocking his hips, his cock sliding in and out.

"God, I've wanted to do this for so long."

"What?”

"You were with him." He gestured towards Chan.

“You were having fantasies about my girlfriend?”

Seungmin nodded, biting his lip.

"I was jealous. I wanted you."

"And now you have her, but one night only. She’s mine, don’t forget that.”

"Yes, yes I do."

His pace picked up, his hips slapping against yours. You could feel his cock hitting deep inside you, his tip brushing against your cervix.

"You're so tight. Fuck."

"You're so big."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"I'm gonna come."

"Do it."

"Fuck." Seungmin's thrusts got faster, and his grip tightened. His cock pulsed and twitched, and his eyes fluttered shut. He cried out, his orgasm hitting hard.

"Oh my god." You cried out, collapsing against Seungmin as he rode out his own orgasm.

“Okay, she needs a break.” Chan helped you off Seungmin’s lap, but you interrupted him.

“Han, come here, please. Want you- to eat me out again.” Your words came out in pants, but Han looked more than eager to oblige.

You laid back on the bed, and Han crawled between your legs, his tongue running over your sensitive flesh.

You whimpered, the sensation bordering on overstimulation. Chan noticed your discomfort and he reached his hand down to rub slow circles on your hip, the feeling helping ground you. “Are you sure baby? You can stop at any time.”

“I’m fine, I promise.” You let out a moan and then signaled to Felix. As he came over, you turned your head to take him into your mouth.

While you were focused on Felix, Chan spoke up.

"Han, you gotta be gentle. If she says stop, you need to listen. Do not push her."

Han nodded, his tongue continuing to explore your pussy. He was gentle, his tongue gliding over your clit.

"Oh, fuck." You moaned around Felix's cock, your hand wrapping around the base. You bobbed your head, hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard.

"She's amazing." Felix groaned.

"I know. And she's all mine."

You whimpered, feeling another orgasm building up. Your hips rocked against Han's mouth, and he seemed to notice, his movements speeding up. "Gonna cum." You moaned, grinding against his mouth.

"Come for me."

"Yes!" You cried out, your orgasm hitting hard. Your hips bucked wildly, and your back arched. Han lapped at your cunt, cleaning you up before pulling away and licking his lips.

"That was the best meal I've ever had. I could do that all day.” Han stepped away as you continued to suck Felix’s cock.

“Stop- wanna fuck you.” He groaned.

Felix pulled out and then quickly lined his cock up with your entrance, slamming into you.

"Fuck." You gasped, your hands gripping the sheets.

"Fuck, you feel so good."

Felix's thrusts were hard and fast, and his grip on your thighs was almost painful.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna last." His hand shot down to your clit to help you along as Chan said earlier. Always following instructions.

"Come for me, Felix."

Felix's cock twitched, and he cried out, his cock pulsing and his hot seed spilling inside.

You let out a soft groan, and he pulled out, falling to the side and catching his breath. Each of the Maknae looked entirely spent, dicks limp and eyes closed.

"I wanna see her get fucked by Changbin." Felix looked at Chan, and the eldest nodded.

"Changbin? Why?” Chan questioned as he moved towards you.

"He's the biggest. I wanna see her stretched around his cock." Felix was dazed on the bed next to you.

Chan's gaze shifted to you, a wicked grin forming on his face. "Oh? Is he now?”

"Mhm." Felix nodded, biting his lip.

"Is that what you want, baby? You wanna be stretched around his cock?"

"I wanna be stretched around yours baby.” You could tell Chan’s possessive side was coming out.

"Good answer.”

Chan made his way over and settled between your legs, his cock rubbing against your entrance.

Chan slowly slid inside, and you moaned, your back arching off the bed.

"You feel so fucking good, baby. I love you.” Chan’s thumbs were rubbing circles against your hips.

“You fit so good, I love you too. Fuck!”

His pace was quick and rough, his cock hitting deep.

"I love you so much." Chan leaned down and looped his arms under your back, holding you flush against him as he buried his face in your neck.

"I love you, too." Tears were lining your eyes as sheer pleasure flooded your system, the overstimulation starting to hit you.

You moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Fuck." He growled, his cock throbbing.

"Fuck, I'm close."

"Come for me, baby."

"Chan..." Your eyes were squeezed shut, and you were barely able to breathe.

"That's it. Come for me."

You let out a strangled moan, and you came, your walls clenching tightly around his cock.

"Good girl. Such a good girl."

"Come for me, Chan. Come inside, please." Chan's grip tightened, and he groaned, his hips stuttering.

"Fuck." You both stilled, your breathing ragged.

Chan slowly pulled out, his forehead resting against yours.

"How do you feel, baby?"

"Sore, but I'm good. I'm happy."

"Me too. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Chan helped you stand, and he held you tightly.

"Alright boys, we need to get cleaned up. We have practice tomorrow and a few of you have vocal lessons and a photoshoot."

You chuckled and kissed his cheek.

"Alright. Go shower, we'll clean up the room." Han offered with a lazy smile.

"We?" Felix whined, sitting up.

"Yes, we. Come on." Seungmin said, slapping Felix on the shoulder.

"Thanks, guys." Chan grabbed your clothes and carried them into the bathroom, turning on the shower.

You smiled and joined him, letting the hot water wash away the sticky evidence of your activities.

The boys did an excellent job at cleaning the bedroom. It was spotless, and it smelled clean.

You and Chan were in his room, him snuggled against you as you ran your fingers through his hair.

"I think we need to have them all over for dinner. Or a movie. Something." You said softly.

"I'll ask if they want to. Why?" Chan was running his hands through your hair gently.

“I feel like I owe them a thank you." You couldn’t help but chuckle.

"Yeah, they would probably like that. I'll talk to the manager tomorrow and see when they have open schedules."

"Thank you, baby."

"No problem, love." Chan kissed your cheek and snuggled closer.

"Hey, Chan."

"Yeah?"

"What was all that about earlier? About not touching me because I'm yours?"

"I was just playing, baby. You know I'm not really like that, right?"

"Of course. It was really hot, though."

#skz #stray kids #skz fanfic #skz x reader #skz smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan #felix yongbok #han jisung #seungmin #i.n skz #jeongin

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