#which is what he tried to do to him - help him

[navybrat817]

Accidentally on Purpose

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You barely have to touch Bucky to get him hard, and you decide to have some fun with it.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Dirty talk, grinding, dry humping, masturbation, implied unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), mention of oral sex (f. receiving), possessive behavior, bit of dom and sub vibes, bit of praise, slight feels, confident reader, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and sensitive thanks to the serum, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by a wonderful nonnie. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications as I no longer do taglists. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was an accident the first time it happened; a slight brush against Bucky when you squeezed between him and Yelena to walk down the hall.

“Excuse me,” you said, flashing a beautiful smile at Bucky when he went ramrod straight. He was thankful that you missed how comically wide his eyes were before you went on your way. 

“Excuse me,” he repeated, bolting in the opposite direction before Yelena could stop him or say anything.

He had his hand down his pants the moment he was alone and it only took him picturing your beautiful smile again before he came, biting his lip and holding back a moan.

Having an erection was a natural reaction to stimulation, but one small touch from you and he practically erupted like a volcano. It was fucking ridiculous.

And it was all thanks to the serum.

It had enhanced his strength and senses, which helped in many situations. It was also a minor inconvenience since it made his cock more sensitive than he thought possible.

It wasn’t that he didn’t utilize mental and physical techniques to help maintain some sort of control, but his dick didn’t care about any of that when it involved you. He wanted you so badly that his cock straight to attention, begging to bury itself in one of your holes. 

That was the reason why he tried not to touch you unless he had to. He didn’t want to freak you out.

What he didn’t know was that you knew exactly how he responded to you from that accidental brushing. 

And you? Well, you fucking loved it.

“Hey, Bucky!” you called out from the kitchen sometime later. “You mind helping me for a sec?”

Like a dog ready to play fetch, he dropped whatever he was doing to join you. Of course, he tried to play it cool when he strolled into the kitchen.

His brain proceeded to shut down when he saw you by the stove wearing an apron and heels… and nothing else. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, the fabric covering everything he so desperately wanted to touch, and he couldn’t stop the blood from rushing to his cock. 

You wiggled your fingers in a flirty wave and held yourself with such steady confidence that his knees went weak. Judging by your smirk, the tent he sported impressed you.

And, fuck, he could smell your arousal from where he stood. Sweet and tangy, he could taste it on his tongue, and he twitched with need.

“Is that for me?” you asked sweetly, pointing to his crotch before beckoning him over. “I sure hope so.”

Walking with a hard-on wasn’t easy, but he made it work so he could join you. “You… you want it?” he asked, dizzy from the way his blood kept flowing from his cock to his head and back again.

Before he could reach out and touch you, you positioned yourself between him and the stove. “I do,” you replied, his heart pounding in his ears. “And I don’t care who knows it.”

As much as Bucky wanted everyone to know, the possessive part of him didn’t want anyone to walk in and see you like this. “Really?”

“Really,” you smiled. That made his chest swell with pride. “But first things first…”

He gasped when you bent down, pretending to look into the oven as you pushed your hips back and gave him the perfect view of your ass. “Fuck…” he whimpered, holding onto you but making no move to stop you.

“You got hard when I brushed against you. It was an accident,” you explained, slowly grinding and getting the front of his pants all wet. “But this? This is all on purpose.”

“I was. You touched me and I almost saw fireworks,” he blurted out. He didn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed. “Fuck me.”

“We’ll get to that later,” you said, setting your rhythm and entrancing him. Was he dreaming? “How sensitive is that big cock of yours?”

Bucky inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. He wanted to take himself out and thrust so hard and deep into you that you’d scream. “It’s very sensitive.”

So sensitive that if you wrapped your lips around him or if he pushed into your warm pussy he’d lose all control. He wouldn’t always blow his load so quickly, but he knew it would happen.

You ground your hips a little harder. “The serum?” you guessed, moving like you were born to seduce him. “Is that why you’re always so close, but you don’t touch me?”

Bucky didn’t realize you noticed. He didn’t know that someone as amazing as you paid that much attention to him.

“Yeah,” he said through his teeth, trying to think of anything and everything so he wouldn’t let go. But you were there, wet and grinding on him, taking over his mind and senses.

“Do you get that hard with anyone else?” you asked, a hint of possessiveness in your tone that he seemed to like. Were you jealous at the idea of him getting instantly hard with someone else? 

As much as he thought about teasing you, he didn’t want that to backfire. He could test that another time, if there was another time.

“Just you,” he admitted, flexing his fingers and bracing himself when you stopped moving. Why did you stop? “You’re the only one I want.”

It was there, out in the open, making the tension between you two so much thicker. It was beautiful relief and torture when you moaned and began to move again.

“That’s what I want to hear,” you said, giving him a sultry gaze over your shoulder. “And I want you to come in your pants for me.”

“You want me to…” His blown pupils almost drowned out the blue of his eyes. It was like you reached into his brain and pulled out one of his fantasies. “Do-”

“Don’t you dare call me ‘doll’, Bucky Barnes,” you ordered, stopping your hips again and making his breath stutter. “I’m not just a random girl, so you will give me a term of endearment that is special.”

“Please, don’t stop,” he whined, torn between maintaining control and letting it all go. His body felt so stiff and he needed that release. “I’ll think of something special,” he added hastily, but it was a promise.

You were right. You weren’t just some random girl, and you only deserved the best from him.

“Oh, I know you will because you’re a good man. You’re so good,” you cooed, drawing a needy moan from him when you moved again. You soaked his pants and he couldn’t believe he held on for as long as he had. “Do you need me? Need my tight wet pussy? Need me screaming your name?”

His vision nearly whited out and he swore under his breath. “Yeah. Fuck yeah. I need it,” he begged, but he still didn’t dare to move his hips and break your spell.

You bit your lip. “Then come for me,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear and pressed your hips back one more time.

His hoarse cry echoed in the kitchen, his body trembling from the intensity of his orgasm. His underwear was a sticky mess, his cock tingling and ready to go again when he registered you pulling away. 

It took him a moment to come back to himself. Did that really happen, or did he simply imagine you wearing nothing but an apron and making him come in his pants?

You turned and glanced at the wet spot with a smile, appearing perfectly composed when you cupped his cheeks. “You know this means you’re mine now.”

He almost whined again. He was yours? You really wanted him?

His breath was shaky when you looked at his mouth and he stirred in his pants the second your lips met. You kissed him like you had been waiting your whole life to do so, like you’d never get the chance again.

The urge to put you on the island and eat your pussy like a starved man filled his mind. Maybe he could jerk off to the smell and taste of you while you gripped his hair like a lifeline.

He reached behind him to steady himself when you broke the kiss. “It means you’re mine, too,” he said, still catching his breath.

The thought of you doing that to anyone else or anyone else having you… No. He refused to imagine that.

You ran a finger along the wet spot and made him gasp. Your touch was sin wrapped in the package of a fallen angel. “I’ll be yours… once you get me off.”

You stepped out of reach and held a finger up when he tried to grab you. “I’ll get you off,” he promised. So why were you backing up more?

“I’m sure you will,” you said, turning and giving him a generous view of your ass again. “Oh, yeah. There’s nothing in the oven, so you don’t have to worry about sticking around here.”

He sensed that when he didn’t smell anything over the scent of your sweet cunt and gentle perfume. You put on a show just for him, and it flattered him.

“Wait,” he begged when you got to the doorway. He was ready to fall to his knees and beg you to come back. “Where are you going?”

“Well, unless you want someone to stroll in and see me like this, I’m going to hide while you think of a special pet name for me,” you said, winking over your shoulder. “Just follow the scent of my pussy once you’re ready to play some more.”

He nearly swallowed his tongue. You were going to be the death of him, weren’t you? “Should I change first?” he asked, gesturing to his pants. “That’s up to you, but don’t keep me waiting long,” you answered, leaving one last parting shot before you left, “My pussy’s waiting for you to ruin it and I’d really hate to start without you.”

And once Bucky thought of that special pet name, he found you and ruined your pussy just like you wanted.

This could be a fun new couple to play with. I wonder what the term of endearment is. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[formulafanfics13]

Cold Hands, Filthy Heart - MV1 & LN4 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: The ice bath was a post-race reward, or maybe a punishment, depending on how long you could keep your mouth shut. Max didn’t mind either way. He let you climb into his lap in the freezing tub, let you sink down onto his cock slow and deep, let you ride him until your moans got too loud and your head tipped back like a siren call. Which is exactly when Lando walks in. With a framed fan painting. For Max. And Max? Max doesn’t stop.

Warnings: smut, dom!Max, public/semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism, Lando walks in mid-sex, orgasm control, choking (light), face grabbing, degradation + praise, possessiveness, threesome

It started as a dare, or maybe a punishment. It was hard to tell with Max. One minute, you were bickering in the post-race debrief, throwing jabs about his tire degradation while Christian looked like he wanted to retire mid-season, and the next, Max was dragging you into the Red Bull motorhome, shoving open the ice bath room with that same dead-eyed calm he used to brake late into corners.

“You think you’re hot shit?” he muttered, pulling off his shirt. “Let’s see how long you last in here.”

“You first,” you smirked.

And now you were in his lap, riding him in the fucking ice bath, water sloshing around your waist, Max’s cock buried so deep you could feel him in your throat. You weren’t dating. Barely even on talking terms most weekends. But the second you’d dropped into the tub and slid onto his lap, bare and defiant and freezing, Max had grabbed your hips and took you like he’d been waiting all season.

Now his hands gripped your ass beneath the surface. One slapped across the swell of it, water stinging the skin as he rocked up into you. “Louder,” he growled. “Come on, fuck like you drive.”

“Fuck- Max-” Your head fell back, mouth open on a moan as your thighs trembled around him. Cold water clung to your skin. Max didn’t stop. Didn’t even blink. Just watched you with that same fucking smirk.

And that’s exactly when the door burst open. “Yo,” Lando’s voice rang out. “I got that painting-”

Silence. You froze. Max didn’t. He drove his hips up again, cock punching into you deep enough to make your breath hitch.

“Oh my fucking god,” Lando groaned, still holding the fan-framed canvas in both hands like a peace offering from hell. “Seriously? Seriously? In the fucking ice bath?”

You turned your head, gasping. “Lando- get out-”

“Not yet,” Max said, voice deadly calm. “She hasn’t learned her lesson.”

You squirmed in his lap. “You’re fucking insane-”

Lando looked torn. Flushed. Eyes darting between your dripping body and Max’s relaxed dominance. “Mate,” he said weakly. “You didn’t say you were gonna-”

“She climbed on,” Max said coolly. “I just didn’t stop her.”

Lando’s eyes flicked down to where your thighs spread around Max, water turning cloudy with movement. Then back to your face, your flushed, wet, desperate face.

“Fuck,” Lando muttered. “You want help?”

Your brain stalled. Max grinned. And that was it.

Lando set the painting down gently like it was sacred. Shrugged off his hoodie. Walked over with the kind of slow, careful amusement that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

You tried to speak. Tried to say no, or maybe wait, or maybe fuck me harder, you weren’t even sure anymore.

But Max just grabbed your jaw, turned your face toward him, “Say thank you.”

You whimpered. “Thank you.”

“Good girl.”

And that’s when Lando sank to his knees beside the tub. “Let me taste her,” he said casually, already pulling your leg up over the rim as Max raised himself onto the other side of edge so he could stay in you from behind. “Bet she’s sweet under all that attitude.”

You cried out as his mouth found you instantly, tongue dragging up where Max was still inside. The mix of hot breath and freezing water, Max fucking up into you and Lando sucking your clit, it was too much.

You came like that. Hard. Helpless. Max held you still as you bucked and writhed between them, Lando moaning against you, Max whispering filth in your ear.

“Now she’s ready,” Max muttered.

They traded places. Max pulled out. Lando stood. And without ceremony, Max pushed your head forward and said, “Open your mouth.”

You obeyed. Max watched with wicked satisfaction as Lando slid in, cock heavy and hot against your tongue. You gagged. He groaned. Max’s fingers tightened in your hair as he held you there. “Use her,” Max told him. “She’s still a brat.”

Lando fucked your mouth like he’d been dying to for weeks. Max gripped your thighs again, slipped two fingers back inside your soaked cunt, pressing deep and curling hard. You were nothing but a moaning, choking mess between them, stuffed and stretched and ruined.

“Holy fuck,” Lando groaned. “She’s drooling all over me-”

“She likes it,” Max smirked. “Look at her.”

You came again. Right there. With Lando in your throat and Max’s fingers inside you.

Lando gasped. Pulled out fast. “Shit-gonna come-”

“On her chest,” Max said simply. “Then we’ll switch.”

Lando obeyed. Hot and filthy across your tits, sticky and fast. You barely had time to breathe before Max flipped you around, bent you over the tub edge, and slammed back into you with a low growl.

“Lando,” he said, gripping your throat. “Hold her open.”

Lando stepped close again. Grabbed your jaw. You didn’t even think. Just opened your mouth. This time it was Max’s turn to come, buried deep, body shuddering, hand pressing on your back as he emptied inside you like he’d earned it.

Because he had. Because you never stood a fucking chance.

[babydoll-stories]

Dad!Clark Kent Headcanons.

Summary: Headcanons about Clark Kent caring for his wife during pregnancy.

Pairing: husband!Clark Kent x wife!reader.

Warnings: pregnancy, birth, fluff.

A/n: this is more focused on the pregnancy than parenthood. I’ll do a second part fully focused on parenthood and motherhood. The baby is a girl.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

Dad!Clark Kent who notices way earlier than you because he heard the heartbeat of your future child, but decided not to tell you anything and letting you find yourself.

Dad!Clark Kent who acts surprised when you gift him a t-shirt that reads “Best super dad in the world”. He hugs you so tight that you can’t even breathe.

“Oh my gosh, baby” he says crying “I can’t believe this is happening for real.” He kisses your lips until you run out of breath.

“Me neither. I’m scared.”

“I know, it’s okay. I’ll be there with you, we’ll do this together, alright?”

Dad!Clark Kent who is super worried about your pregnancy because of his genes. He is worried that carrying a half-human half-meta human is a lot for your body.

“Honey, I’m okay, you don’t have to worry that much.”

“But you don’t know how it’s going to affect you.” He looks at you with awe but also with a hint of worry.

“But I’m okay, and you don’t have to be glued to my shoulder all the time.” Always so stubborn.

Dad!Clark Kent who is always spoiling you. If you want something you just have to ask and he’ll bring it to you in no time. He is always cooking for you and buying your weird cravings, even if he has to fly to another continent to get them.

Dad!Clark Kent who has read all the parenting books that exist in the world and has already started putting together the nursery.

“Clark, you don’t even know the sex of the baby yet, you can’t paint the nursery already.” You say observing your husband crouching down on the floor, sleeves rolled up and with a paintbrush on his hand, two cans of paint opened, one pink and one blue.

“I can paint half and half so that when we know the gender we only have to paint the other half of the room.” He says focused on deciding which color to use first.

“You’re insane.”

Dad!Clark Kent who regularly calls his Ma to ask her the recipes of your favorite plates of her and asks her about the better products for newborns.

Dad!Clark Kent who when it’s time to know the sex and you very excitedly tell him it’s finally time, he tells you he could use his x-ray to find out the gender of the baby. That leads you to both of you sitting at the edge of the bed, Clark using his x-ray vision on your rounded belly and you grabbing his hand.

“It’s a girl.” He says with almost no expression, wanting to see how you react at the news first.

“Are you sure?” You say lowly.

“A hundred percent.” He says and you throw yourself at his arms.

“Oh my god. Clark we’re having a little girl!” You say crying.

“We are ,sweetheart.” He says also crying.

Dad!Clark Kent who tries to soothe your worries about having a half-kryptonian baby.

“What if she uses laser vision and does a hole in my belly?!”

“That’s impossible, baby.”

“You sure, Clark? If she does I’m killing you, just so you know.”

…

“What if she goes away flying. I don’t want my baby girl to fly.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t fly until I was six. And I’m sorry, but I think it’s going to be difficult for her to not fly.”

“Why did a procreate with a fucking alien?”

“Hey!”

…

“Clark.”

“Mhm?”

“What if she’s stronger and heavier than me? I won’t be able to carry or hold her.”

“Baby, she’s not going to come out of the womb with all those abilities. She’s going to be a normal baby.”

“Really?”

“Really. She will get the abilities as years pass. You have nothing to worry about, love. Besides, I will be there in every step and I’ll help her figure out her abilities.”

“Alright.”

Dad!Clark Kent who once you know it’s a girl, finish painting the nursery pink while you decorate it with cute little dolls, clothes and books.

Dad!Clark Kent who excitedly tells everyone he’s having a little girl and buys every cute little thing he finds, he just can’t resist.

Dad!Clark Kent who is always talking to your growing belly and is more than ready for when she decides to come to the world, having read everything about giving birth and having the hospital bag packed and prepared beside the bed ever since you found out about your pregnancy.

Dad!Clark Kent who doesn’t let go of your hand until you hear the broken cries of your newborn baby. He cuts the umbilical cord and lets you hold your baby first until you pass her to him. He holds your daughter like the most precious thing in the world, caressing her little head gently.

“She’s precious.” He says tearing up a bit and looking at her.

“She is. She looks a lot like you, has your eyes.” You say looking at them with adoration.

“No, she looks like you. You have the same face.” He responds looking at you in the eye.

Dad!Clark Kent who keeps a hand on your knee the whole drive from the hospital to your apartment. And who doesn’t let you do anything because “you need to rest” while he takes care of the house, the baby, and you.

You couldn’t have asked for a better husband and father of your daughter.

[angstama]

10 ; spaces between us | l.jn

pairing: dad!lee jeno x f!reader (ft. na jaemin)

genre: angst, slight fluff, co-parenting

synopsis — three years after divorcing jeno, you've found a careful rhythm in co-parenting your son jun. the old fights about his work schedule and emotional distance have faded into polite exchanges and shared custody arrangements. but when small moments of connection start to feel like second chances, you begin to hope that maybe you could try again. though, it all falls apart when jeno asks to introduce jun to his new girlfriend. suddenly, you're forced to confront a devastating truth: the man who claimed he "wasn't good at relationships" during your marriage has apparently learned how to love properly—he just needed someone else to do it with.

a/n: hey loveliessss~ i'm so sorry chapter 10 took awhile :") turns out i've developed this thing called allergy rhinitis which honestly made me feel really sluggish throughout the day. i was also really busy and was going through a major heartbreak *laughs* (it's okay everything is fine now...) but alas, chapter 10!!!!! thank you so much for the patience :"))) my inbox is also flooded with a lot of asks, i promise i'm getting to them as fast as i can (i only get to do this at night after a long dayyy so please give me some time ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

sbu m.list | previous | next chapter

jeno doesn't know what's more nerve-wracking.

the fact that you were still ignoring his texts—his calls, his hesitant attempts to reach out and ask how you were doing… or the fact that he’s currently sitting stiffly across from soomin’s parents, in a dining room far too silent for comfort.

the table was lavishly set, polished cutlery, sparkling glasses, and dishes that looked too pristine to touch. and yet, no one had touched a thing. the air hung heavy, like something unsaid was resting on everyone’s shoulders. jeno shifted in his seat, forcing a polite smile as he glanced between mr. and mrs. han—both of whom wore expressions far too difficult to read.

he could feel a bead of sweat start to form near his temple. soomin sat beside him, posture perfect, as if she wasn’t feeling the pressure that was currently crushing his chest. her fingers occasionally brushed against his under the table, a silent attempt to offer comfort—but even that felt foreign. detached. like something rehearsed.

he tried to breathe normally, but all he could think about was the silence. and you.

you, who once held his hand under the table and made sarcastic comments that made him choke on his water.

you, who would’ve made a face at how fancy the salad looked and asked for rice instead.

you, who he hadn’t heard from in days and unsure if you'll even let him see jun when tomorrow — saturday, rolls over.

"please, jeno, don't stand on ceremony. help yourself." mr. han's voice was smooth, almost warm—but the underlying edge in his tone was impossible to miss. he gestured toward the piece of hanwoo steak resting on jeno's plate, glistening under the dining room’s gold-tinged lights, almost like it was watching him too. "let’s dig in," he added, finally lifting his utensils.

mrs. han said nothing, her movements silent and methodical as she sliced into her own portion. soomin followed suit, equally quiet, her face unreadable. the only sound that filled the room was the soft clinking of silverware against fine porcelain.

jeno picked up his utensils mechanically, carving a piece of steak without really seeing it. it could’ve been rubber, for all he knew. everything felt muted, like he was underwater—except the pressure in his chest. that felt sharp. heavy. inescapable.

“so,” mr. han started again, his tone deceptively casual, “how did the check-up on our grandbaby go today?”

jeno froze for a fraction of a second. but the question hadn’t been directed at him. soomin dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin before replying. “baby’s healthy, appa. doctor said just try not to overexert or stress myself out, that’s all.”

"good," mr. han nodded, finally glancing up—but not at his daughter. his eyes landed on jeno like a quiet dare. "stress is no good. especially now." jeno nodded stiffly, trying not to choke on the bite he hadn’t even swallowed yet.

mr. han didn’t stop. “and how’s the ongoing case looking?”

suddenly, the air tightened. soomin paused mid-cut, her gaze flicking to jeno but his eyes didn't lift from his plate. not even when he felt her silently urging him to say something. “we’re doing all we can,” she said instead, her voice cool, measured.

jeno hated the way the words sat between them, like a brick on the table. they were both trying to sound confident, but he knew mr. han could smell blood in the water. he stabbed another piece of steak and forced it into his mouth, chewing slowly as the tension buzzed in his skull.

“hm, i heard your ex-wife is the primary legal counsel on the case, jeno.” mr. han’s tone was smooth, but the look he gave jeno was anything but casual. “i’m sure you know what to do?” the question sliced through the room like a blade.

jeno froze—mid-cut, fork and knife suspended in air. it was as if he’d been caught red-handed, like a boy caught sneaking out of class. mrs. han finally looked up from her plate, her sharp eyes locking on him. the air shifted. suddenly, all eyes were on jeno.

soomin’s brows furrowed slightly, turning toward him. she didn’t say a word, but her silence said everything.

she was waiting for him. expecting him to back her. expecting him to stand on the same side.

jeno swallowed hard.

“ah…” he began, slowly setting down his utensils. his voice came out low, careful. “i’m not sure if there’s… anything i can do.” the words felt flimsy the moment they left his mouth. even he didn’t believe them.

mr. han’s brows furrowed, his jaw tightening as he set down his wine glass with a soft clink. “what do you mean you’re not sure there’s anything you can do?” his voice was firmer now, displeasure bleeding into every syllable. “tell her to drop the case.”

jeno looked up finally, meeting mr. han’s gaze for the first time tonight. it was like looking into the eyes of someone who’d already decided how the game would end—and was simply waiting for you to fall in line.

“it’s not that simple,” jeno said, quieter than he meant to. he glanced at soomin, whose face was hard to read now. “she’s doing her job. the same way we are.”

“jeno,” mr. han’s tone dipped. “we’re talking about your family here. your child. your future. and you’re telling me you can’t convince your ex-wife to let go of something that’s clearly a waste of time?”

jeno clenched his jaw. because deep down, he knew it wasn’t a waste of time. not to you. he looked back at his plate. but the hanwoo had gone cold. and so had the room.

“she’s also the mother of my firstborn, sir…” jeno’s voice was measured, but the tension in his posture gave him away—his shoulders drawn, jaw tightening as if the weight of jun’s name alone pulled something inside of him taut.

at the mention of your son, mr. han scoffed, shaking his head as he set his utensils down with a quiet clink.

“and you’re marrying my only daughter,” he said, voice laced with irritation. “she’s carrying your child. seriously—what are you trying to get at, jeno? pay your ex-wife a ransom and i’m sure everything will be solved.” he huffed, like it was the most obvious solution in the world.

jeno stilled. the comment burned—crude, dismissive, reducing you and jun to little more than obstacles. and though his expression barely shifted, his hand slowly curled into a fist beneath the table.

“with all due respect, sir,” jeno began, his voice clipped but calm, “i love your daughter. and i’m committed to building a life with her. but this case—it’s not about personal grudges. it’s bigger than that. y/n’s not going to drop it just because i asked her to.”

mr. han narrowed his eyes. “and why not?” he challenged.

jeno exhaled slowly, trying to keep his frustration in check. “because there are people relying on her. victims who were silenced, workers who lost their livelihoods—she’s their voice in court. asking her to walk away from that... it’s not just selfish, it’s wrong.”

silence.

jeno glanced at soomin, but she didn’t look at him. her face was unreadable, her lips slightly pursed as her thumb grazed her stomach—an unconscious movement he noticed instantly. mrs. han cleared her throat softly, but didn’t speak.

“you think we’re guilty?”

jeno didn’t answer immediately. his throat tightened, every instinct screaming at him to tread carefully. but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to lie. not here. not about this.

“appa,” soomin’s voice came soft but firm, trying to de-escalate the tension. “please.”

but mr. han wasn’t having it.

he leaned forward slightly, knuckles pressed against the edge of the table. “if you want this baby… if you so much as wish to marry my daughter—get it sorted,” he hissed, spitting the words like venom. “or forget it.”

and with that, he stood, tossing the cloth napkin onto the plate with finality. the sound echoed.

mrs. han stood as well, rushing to his side with a soft gasp, her fingers wrapping gently around his arm to calm him as he stormed out of the room.

the door shut behind them with a dull thud.

the silence that followed was deafening.

jeno sat frozen, his hands clenched tightly on his lap, eyes fixed on the now-empty seat across from him.

on the other side of the city, far from the glittering halls and polished speeches of the gala, the night felt different—softened by laughter, laced with something gentle.

jaemin held your hand in his, fingers loosely intertwined as he guided you down the quiet street. his suit jacket draped over your shoulders like a makeshift blanket, its sleeves brushing your thighs. you shuffled beside him in his sneakers—slightly too big, your heels long since abandoned to his other hand.

"where are you taking me, mr. na jaemin?" you giggled, slightly breathless from trying to keep pace with him.

he turned just enough to flash you that boyish smile, the one that made your stomach flutter. “you’ll see,” he said, tugging you closer to his side when you wandered a little too far towards the road. “it’s a surprise.”

the walk ended at a small taco stand parked beside the han river—humble, glowing in warm yellow lights strung across its canopy. the sound of soft sizzling came from the grill, blending into the hum of city life. in the distance, the skyline shimmered, reflecting off the gentle ripples of the water.

jaemin ordered for the both of you—pulled beef for himself, fish tacos for you. you didn’t even remember telling him that was your favorite. he remembered anyway.

the two of you made your way down to the stone steps by the river, where the city felt like a soft lullaby. the breeze was cool, tugging lightly at your hair. jaemin placed the food down with care, pouring the diet coke into two flimsy plastic cups provided by the store owner at the stand.

"this is what we're having for our first date?" you teased, opening your taco wrapper as you peeked at him through the fringe of your lashes.

jaemin gave an exaggerated gasp. “you like tacos, don’t you?” he grinned, nudging your arm playfully. “besides, nothing else is open around here. unless you wanna go to a convenience store and eat triangle kimbap by the gas pump.”

the buzz of the wine was fading now, and for the first time that night, you really looked at him. really saw him. his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the fine edges of his dress shirt relaxed, collar unbuttoned. the same suit jacket now hung loosely around your shoulders. he looked... comfortable. like this version of him had been waiting quietly behind all those gala smiles and polished introductions.

the conversation had long wandered past small talk. somehow, you’d covered everything from favorite ramen brands to dream vacations to your most embarrassing high school moments—like the universe was letting you press unpause on a connection that had always been just slightly out of reach.

“wait,” you laughed, nudging your shoulder into his playfully, “so you’re telling me you’ve always liked me?”

jaemin chuckled, mid-bite of his taco. “i mean… well… now that you’re not with jeno, i suppose i can finally say yes.”

you raised a brow, amused. “wow. that long, huh?”

“back then, you and jeno were basically conjoined,” he teased, gesturing vaguely with his taco. “and honestly, he used to give me the nastiest glare whenever i came within a five-meter radius.”

you snorted. “yeah, he really doesn’t like you, jaem.”

“understandable,” he said smugly. “most men tend to feel threatened when i’m around their girlfriends.” you rolled your eyes, laughing, when he suddenly leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “but, you know,” he said more gently now, “i left you something on graduation day.”

you blinked. “huh?”

“a little box. cheesecake crumbs. tucked it into your tote bag.”

your eyes widened as the memory clicked—the small container, the little short note and the golden crust pieces nestled inside. back then, you assumed your mom packed it. you'd eaten every bite, weirdly touched by the gesture without knowing where it came from.

"everybody say cheese!" your mother waved, her voice bright and lilting, the lens of her camera trained on the group. you beamed too, tilting your face toward jeno as he wrapped a secure arm around your waist. you kissed his cheek, and he grinned, fingers gently tipping the edge of your graduation cap like it was a crown.

the air smelled like fresh blooms and summer heat. laughter filled the courtyard—students in flowing gowns, proud parents, and friends squeezing in last-minute photos before scattering into the world.

not far from you stood jaemin, a quiet observer at the edge of the crowd.

he wasn’t wearing a cap and gown that day. he had finished his credits early, quietly, never quite one for the spotlight. but he came anyway, hovering by the sidelines, hands shoved in his pockets, a crooked smile tugging his lips as he watched the scene.

your scene.

you and jeno, glowing, surrounded by friends. chen le’s arm thrown around mark’s shoulder as the four of you posed together—jeno’s hand never once leaving your waist.

it would’ve been easy to walk away. but instead, jaemin lingered, the corners of his smile faltering just slightly.

in his hand, he held a small box—carefully taped, a note scrawled on the top that read: “for the biscuit girl.”

inside were homemade cheesecake biscuit crumbs. the night before, he had stayed up past midnight, trying to get the texture just right. he had remembered—months ago, maybe even a year—overhearing you complain to jeno about how the cheesecake was always in the way of the best part: the base.

“honestly, they should just sell the crumbs,” you’d joked.

he’d never forgotten.

he watched for a moment longer, then, with a quiet sigh, turned to leave. before he could, he spotted your famous brown tote bag sitting beside a tree near your mom’s foldable chair. taking a quick glance around, he made his way over and, without a sound, slipped the box inside.

then he left.

he never expected you to know it was him.

your mouth dropped open in disbelief. “wait—that was you? i thought my mom packed that as a surprise!”

jaemin looked ridiculously pleased with himself, sipping from the straw of his now-watery soda. “well, technically it was a surprise.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “they were really good. i thought about them for weeks.”

“i spent three hours baking just to get that perfect crunch,” he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “but alas, the girl of my dreams was busy kissing her boyfriend in front of my face.”

you burst into laughter, nudging him again—gentler this time. “stop. i’m the girl of your dreams?”

his hand fell from his chest, and the smirk on his lips softened into something more sincere. he nodded once, slowly, as his eyes found yours—unwavering, open, vulnerable. “you are.”

you blinked, your laughter fading as the weight of his words settled between you. he looked down at your lips for a moment, then back to your eyes, his voice quieter now, stripped of bravado. “i’m not good with emotions and all that,” he admitted, his fingers rubbing absently at the hem of his sleeve. “but when i ran into you again at the supermarket… i don’t know, it felt like a second chance. like the big guy up there decided to throw me a bone.”

he glanced up at the night sky for a moment, the stars too faint to see against the city glow. when he looked back at you, he was serious. “i’m not gonna ask you to be mine. not yet. because i know your heart… a part of it still belongs to jeno. and i respect that.”

you opened your mouth to say something, but he gently shook his head and continued.

“but i’ll be here. i’ll keep showing up. i’ll be honest with my feelings, even when it’s scary. because for once, i don’t want to run from something real.”

his words struck something deep inside you. the sincerity. the tenderness. the quiet bravery of it all. and suddenly, it was hard to breathe.

the space between you was barely anything now. his thigh brushed against yours. his breath warm and steady in the cool night air. your eyes lingered on his—hopeful, terrified, and entirely certain all at once.

“kiss me,” you whispered, your voice barely a thread, your gaze flickering to his lips.

he blinked. “what?”

you smiled softly. “i said kiss me.”

you leaned in just the slightest bit, and that was all it took. jaemin reached for the back of your head with one hand, the other curling gently around your jaw, and pulled you toward him. his lips crashed into yours—not rough, not rushed, but full of something he’d been holding in for years.

it was warm. it was steady. it was real.

and in that moment, the world didn’t feel so heavy. not with his hand in your hair, and yours tangled in his shirt, and the han river glistening behind you like a silent witness to a beginning long overdue.

you woke up to the soft golden light of morning spilling through your curtains, a quiet stillness hanging in the air. the first thing you felt was warmth—real, grounded warmth. as your eyes fluttered open, you realized jun was nestled tightly between you and jaemin, his tiny arms wrapped possessively around jaemin’s arm like a teddy bear.

you let out a soft sigh, the kind that slipped out without permission—a breath of relief, a quiet exhale of contentment. you didn’t even remember when jun had crawled into bed last night. maybe sometime after you and jaemin had fallen asleep talking, voices hushed in the dark. but the sight before you now—jun’s peaceful face pressed into jaemin’s side, and jaemin’s arm curled instinctively around him—was more than enough to soften your heart.

gently, you peeled the blanket off and sat up, careful not to wake either of them. you stretched, arms overhead, your body still warm from sleep and softness.

“where are you going?” came jaemin’s low, raspy voice, his words heavy with sleep. he shifted a little, eyes barely open.

you immediately raised your hand, index finger pressed to your lips before pointing at jun. “shh,” you whispered, gesturing to the boy still fast asleep beside him.

jaemin followed your hand with his eyes and mouthed an exaggerated “oh,” giving a tiny nod as he relaxed back into the mattress, careful not to jostle jun.

“just getting some water. i’ll be back,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss jun lightly on the forehead and offering jaemin a soft smile.

he nodded again, watching you with sleep-drenched eyes and the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. one hand peeked out from the blanket, waving at you lazily as you padded quietly toward the kitchen.

you were just about to bring the glass of warm water to your lips when a soft knock echoed through the apartment. you froze. maybe it was the pipes. or the wind. you waited, standing still in the quiet kitchen, heart slowing—until it came again. this time louder. more deliberate.

you turned slowly towards the front door, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall.

7:00am.

it too early for a delivery. too early for anyone to be visiting.

you set your glass down with a soft clink against the countertop and moved towards the door, barefoot against the cold floor, the morning silence wrapping around you like a warning.

as you reached the door, you hesitated for a second before peeking through the peephole. your heart dropped instantly when you saw who was standing on the other side of the door.

jeno.

he stood with his head bowed slightly, eyes fixed on the welcome mat like it held all the answers he didn’t have. his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his denim, the soft rise and fall of his chest visible even from your side of the door. he wasn’t fidgeting or pacing—he was just… waiting.

your hand hovered over the doorknob, frozen.

you hadn’t seen him in days, maybe even weeks. not since that the day you left his place.

and now he was here, unannounced. at seven in the morning.

your heart pounded hard against your chest as questions flooded your mind. why now? why here? what does he want?

you hesitated.

your hands trembled lightly on the knob.

you could turn around, pretend you weren’t home, pretend you didn’t see him—but you knew he knew. your car was in the driveway. the porch light was still on. you were awake. you were always awake at this hour.

so you took a breath. and then another. and slowly, with a soft click of the lock, you opened the door.

the cold morning air slipped between the crack before the full weight of jeno’s presence did.

he looked up the moment he heard the door creak open, and for a second—just one fleeting second—you swore you saw his shoulders relax.

his eyes met yours.

"y/n," his eyes widened, voice low, rough around the edges. like he'd been up all night. "i wasn't sure if you were gonna open the door."

you stood in the doorway, expression unreadable, the early sun casting a golden outline around you.

“what are you doing here, jeno?” you asked quietly.

“can we talk?” jeno’s voice was low, tentative. he took a small step forward—reflexively, you stepped back.

as if he might hurt you.

that tiny movement was enough to make him freeze, guilt flashing across his face. he quickly stepped back again, like he understood.

“please,” he said, his voice almost a whisper now. “i’m not here to fight. i just… i just need you to hear me out.” you shut your eyes tightly, fingers pressing into your temples as a frustrated sigh tore through your chest.

why can’t you just have peace? the ache in your chest returned, sharp and familiar.

the betrayal of finding out soomin's pregnant. the weight of everything jeno had broken inside you, still shattering in new ways.

yet, despite it all…

you still wanted to hear him out.

you still wanted to give him that chance.

foolish.

foolish you.

foolish y/n.

“we can talk,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself like a shield. “but not here. outside.”

you sat on the steps together, silence stretched thick between you. the roads still empty, morning barely arrived, but the air already felt too heavy to breathe.

five minutes passed before either of you spoke.

“i’m sorry,” jeno said, finally breaking the silence. his fingers were fumbling over each other, nervously twisting the hem of his sleeve. he couldn't look at you.

“i wanted to tell you about the pregnancy,” he continued, voice barely audible. “but… things hadn’t been great between us. and i didn’t know how to bring it up. there was never a good time.”

you let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “never a good time? jeno, there were plenty of times. you just didn’t have the courage.”

he flinched at your words.

you hated how true they were. and you hated even more how much it hurt to say them.

jeno—who once knew every version of you. who memorised every sleeping pattern you had and knew what that meant, jeno, who traced constellations on your back, jeno, who kissed your dreams into your skin—felt like a stranger now.

a cowardly stranger with a child on the way.

and somehow, part of you still mourned him.

“be honest with me, jeno,” you said, your voice low and worn thin. “how far along is she?”

you didn’t want the answer. your heart was already bracing for the blow. but you needed to know—had to know—when it would happen.

when would he finally let go of the invisible string that still tied him to you? when would he stop pretending like he still belonged in the life you built with jun? when would he start truly becoming someone else’s?

jeno hesitated, his lips parting, then pressing together again. he lowered his gaze, and for a moment, you swore he almost didn’t say it.

but then—quietly, like a confession— “…three months.”

your world shifted.

three months.

the air left your lungs. your heart dropped straight to your stomach. the math came rushing in before you could stop it—three months ago, he was still at your place, laughing on the couch, cooking breakfast, falling asleep next to jun like it was the most natural thing in the world.

three months ago, you were still hoping.

still holding on.

still pretending your little family could somehow fix itself.

and all that time, he already knew. he already made his choice.

your stomach turned, a sour ache building in your throat.

god, it hurt.

please god, your heart cried. take it back. make it stop. let me un-know it.

but there was no going back now.

“three months,” you repeated, your voice trembling as you let out a bitter laugh. “so what then? if things never got better between us, were you just gonna wait until she gives birth to tell me?”

you looked at him with storm in your eyes.

he was shrinking in front of you.

and it only made you angrier.

“or maybe when your other kid graduates college? when you're walking them down the aisle? what, jeno? when were you going to tell me?”

jeno said nothing.

his silence screamed.

he couldn’t meet your eyes—because if he did, he’d have to see what he’d done.

he’d have to see the damage.

he’d have to witness the ruin of the woman who once trusted him with everything.

you stared at him, jaw clenched, fury and heartbreak mixing in your chest like poison.

and all he could do was sit there, quiet and small, in the storm he created.

jeno’s voice cracked as he whispered again, “i’m sorry.”

but his words felt hollow, empty against the storm raging inside you.

“don’t you dare tell me sorry,” you snapped, the venom cutting through the air. “tell jun you’re sorry. tell him you’re sorry for being such a shitty father.”

your voice trembled, but you didn’t stop. “you know what? why even bother having another kid if you can’t even finish this one? were you that eager to start another family so quickly? is that how much you hate me? so much that you’re willing to build a whole new family with someone else?”

the anger surged in you, a fiery mix of betrayal and grief. but beneath it all, the pain—raw, jagged, unbearable.

you hated this feeling. hated how it swallowed your chest whole.

“i can take anything you throw at me,” you admitted through clenched teeth, your voice breaking. “but jun? fuck, jeno...” a sob ripped from deep within your soul as you crumpled, tears spilling freely now, raw and unfiltered.

“jun... he shouldn’t have to wonder about his worth. shouldn’t have to question why his own dad can be there, fully, for another child but not for him.” your voice cracked, desperate and aching. “he doesn’t deserve that. god, jeno...” you cried, your heart bleeding open in front of him, vulnerable and shattered.

“and i told you before—we’re not ready,” you said, voice raw and trembling, desperation creeping in as you fought to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. “but for you, jeno...” your hands shook as they pressed against your face, trying to hold yourself together. “for you, i was willing to go through the pain of childbirth, even though i was so fucking scared.”

you swallowed hard, your breath hitching as you pressed on, voice thick with emotion. “for you, i gave up my dreams. i never said it out loud before, but i’m not angry about it—because jun was also the best thing that ever happened to me.” your chest heaved with a shaky breath. “but i want you to sit with that. i want you to realise how much i sacrificed. how much i gave up for you—because i fucking loved you. and you... you broke me.”

your body trembled uncontrollably, the weight of everything crashing down on you. “you fucking left me like none of it ever mattered.”

“you wrecked everything,” you said, voice sharp and trembling with hurt, your eyes burning as you locked onto his. “all our plans—everything we dreamed of, everything we hoped for. and i had to pick up the pieces and put it all back together by myself.” your chest tightened, words pouring out like a bitter flood. “i just wanted you to show up. just once. you just had to fucking show up. and you couldn’t even do that.”

jeno didn’t flinch. he didn’t look away or try to soften your words. instead, he stood still, swallowing the weight of your rage like a punishment he fully deserved. his shoulders slumped slightly, as if the burden of your disappointment physically pressed down on him. his eyes glistened, raw and heavy with guilt, but he made no excuse.

he whispered, voice barely audible, “you’re right.”

the silence that followed was thick with everything left unsaid—regret, anger, and the vast gulf that had opened between you.

jeno’s mind reeled, the painful truth settling deep inside him: he had broken something vital in you, something he feared could never heal. he hated himself for it. worse, he knew what he was about to ask next would be unbearable—to ask you to drop the case against soomin, to ask for peace where there was none.

his voice cracked as he finally spoke, each word fragile. “i don’t deserve your forgiveness. but... i had no choice and i'm worried if i don't ask, they're going to do something.”

“can you consider dropping the case against jewel corporation.”

and that was the final blow.

you stared at him, disbelief and pain swirling fiercely in your eyes. the weight of his words felt like a knife twisting deeper inside your chest. in the midst of your argument, pouring your heart out about the destruction he’d caused in your life, jeno decided to ask you to do the one thing he knew you'd never do.

and that snapped something in you.

“i’m done.” you shook your head, disbelief and hurt thick in your voice. “i don’t deserve this. i really do not deserve this.” you raised your hand in surrender, as if warding him off.

“i’m not going to drop the case against your girlfriend. not because i’m jealous of her but because there are real people out there who are suffering because of them.” your finger jabbed accusingly, the anger clear and sharp. “but i can’t believe you’re asking me this. you are fucking crazy jeno.” you screamed at him, voice cracking with fury and heartbreak.

“and i’m so angry.” you pointed to yourself, frustration clear as day. “no screw that, i’m not angry. i'm in pain. and you put me here.” you paused, hands balled into fists, trembling with emotion. “the person who’s supposed to love me more than anything.”

“i’m in pain that there’s someone in there who makes jun so fucking happy. i’m in pain that someone in there is willing to love me yet here i am, heart still bleeding for you who clearly doesn’t even treat me like a fucking human being anymore.” you pointed towards the house where jaemin and jun slept soundly under your roof.

it was too much to bear. your chest tightened, breath catching as the weight of your emotions overflowed.

and without another word, you got up and left.

because enough was enough.

// to be continued

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[bananapurincore]

(Phainon, who can't stop bringing you up every second of the day and making you everyone's problem one way or another)

“Mydeimos! That's not very nice to say, is it? Do I really have to pick between ‘getting my tongue ripped out’ or ‘getting my windpipe crushed,’ because neither seem ideal.”

Yes, the prince thinks, he’ll even give Phainon the courtesy of doing both if he hears your name another time. Maybe he’ll put in “snap his neck” to the growing list of punishments he has planned and once that's done, be forced to get creative and add more, but that's in the non-zero chance it does get worse.

Miraculously, it does. Mydei shouldn't have been surprised.

They both put their hands in the Verax Leo, Mydei is decidedly not amused by this from the start, but this was allegedly supposed to be a team effort on their part. The prince doesn't exactly remember the stupid riddle this statue in particular decided to spout out—he does remember every gripe and complain his partner makes in response.

Before, it was “If [Name] were here, how would they’ve tried to solve it…”

“Y'know they always get these puzzles right? Haha, they're just good at everything, I don't know how they do it.”

“[Name] said one time that this was their favorite one to talk to. Which, fine, I think this one's the most fair, but he's also the most annoying, don’t you think?

Now, it's, "Mydei, you still haven't gotten an answer yet? If [Name] were here, they'd already have this figured out!"

The blond feels his whole body twitch. Not just his eyes, or his hand resting in the lion’s maw, or his nose as he tries not to lose his patience entirely. One page of creative reparations won't be enough. He'll need three. Even four.

"Then why didn't you bring [Name] instead of me, Deliverer?!"

Anaxa does not do any form of assigned seating because he knows his students are all adults, even when they don't act like ones.

But for the first time in a long time, he does consider when Hyacine does move to sit down, usually next to Castorice. This isn’t his biggest problem, they’re rather well-behaved on their own; it arises when you sit next to Castorice, and he is sat next to you, that this cursed lineup allows for decreased efficiency on everyone’s part.

But still, he doesn’t believe himself to be that petty (for his standards), the sage has much more proficient ways at getting desired results from his students.

“You,” Anaxa had murmured, leaning in closer to his student’s seat to distribute the work,“Cannot pick the same partner you had last time for this assignment.”

The Heir tilted his head slightly, eyes narrow in thought.

“That's fine,” Phainon assured quickly, “Can I have—”

“No,” He drawled, cutting off his line of thinking, knowing exactly where he was planning to go with it. “In fact, starting today, I've decided you no longer have the option to pick at all.”

This got the boy's attention, prompting the same nervous smile Anaxa remembered he made on the first day. A little pathetic. If not a calculative move (One that likely works on the softhearted, not that he'd know).

“Professor! Let's not be rash. You said this would take weeks to complete, right?”

“I did. And you're not worming yourself out of this, if that's what you're planning. Find someone else that'll humor your nonsense.”

The heretic hears him groan before moving on to the next desk.

✧.*

“You did a fairly decent job. But I can't help but feel as though this isn't aligned with what you normally give me.” The sage sighs, handing the content back. The room was quiet, no other sounds except you and the other girls talking outside the door, waiting for your companion to be dismissed.

“Must've not been using your good eye when you graded this…” The fainter edges of Phainon's silver snow hair dances in the draft flowing through the room, contrasting the disappointed look on his face.

“What was that?”

“Huh? What was what? You're always hearing things, Professor. It scares everyone, including me.” Amusing. Déjà vu, Anaxa is sure he feels. Who else taught him to talk like that?

… No matter. “You don’t think I don’t notice how… disinterested you are when you don’t get what you want?”

“I… don't suppose you'll tell me what that means.” Phainon smiles, as gently as ever (His ears are a different story, the tips flushing with warmth).

“Don’t look so lost. I meant your topic paper, obviously. You're upset because they were random.”

“Right! I just hate not knowing ahead of time.”

Right.

It was one of the casual conversations with the Chrysos Heir that Dan Heng has had frequently with him since arriving. This time, he was treated with some eatery at near the Market that he was thoroughly enjoying, nothing like on any of the other planets he’s been to so far. He had been able to gleam details about everyone else within the Deliverer’s inner circle, and it had eventually fallen to you. At first, they were helpful tidbits, like how they were for the other heirs before you, until they became less and less relevant as the discussion about you went on. Now, for whatever reason, Dan Heng knows exactly what kinds of sweets you like.

“[Name] likes everything cold. Anytime I get them something fresh, they always expect me to chill it first—and I do, of course. Even if it’s right from the oven, they’ll wait for at least half an hour before taking a bite out of it. They prefer ice cream over everything else, so in that regard, they’re pretty easy to shop for.”

Sure, why not. Maybe there’ll be an instance where he’s talking to you and this information can be appropriately applied.

“I’ll make sure to tell Stelle this, it seems they’ve been getting along well, and she’d probably like knowing that,” He responds, “I’m not sure what it is, but she’s been rather intent on impressing them.”

Phainon was chugging his water down mid-sentence, until it reached the end, and he had abruptly stopped. Blue eyes wide as he took the implication in, then narrow with a furrow as his brows as he looked off to the side, tentatively putting the glass down.

“Is that so?”

Oh, if only he knew. Anytime Curtain Hour would fall and Stelle would retreat to the chambers, half of what the trailblazer would talk about would be included, but not limited to, how she found something while taking a “quick” once over at the trash, how she got too full off of dinner and thought she was going to pass out, how she almost fell into the fountain near Kephale’s mural because some child tried to push her in and tried fighting them; and the other half being you.

“Dan Heng, I had the greatest day today, you’ll never guess what happened.”

“… What?”

“You’re so boring, you never try guessing! But whatever, they laughed at something I said. Like, knee-slapping, head on my shoulder, full laugh. It’s super cute, you should hear it one day. Do you wanna guess what I said?”

“No.”

“Ugh!”

“Yes, and we’ve had the honor of meeting a lot of people. I don’t think there’s been another time I’ve seen her as… giggly as she is now.” Which is saying a lot. Stelle giggles at a lot of things.

Phainon laughs quietly, perhaps amused at the notion of this poor outlander falling as much as she has in such a short span of time, or perhaps because of something else the Nameless wasn’t sure he wanted to get into the deeper meaning of for his own sake (Albeit much too late, even alluding towards anything has him caught in something he’s not sure how he got into).

"Mhm, that’s makes sense. I don’t blame her at all for feeling that way towards them. I mean, they’re smart, they always did well in class. It’s a talent, really, that they managed to stay on our professor’s good side for as long as they did. And they have the nicest smile too, don’t you agree? Especially when—"

Dan Heng wishes he never opened this box. Now there’s two of them (And he’s not sure what he got Stelle into, either).

[competitivemen]

When Jeremy's cousin had announced what he wanted him to do in forfeit for losing the bet over whose team would win the match, Jeremy had refused to go through with it. He'd whined that it wasn't fair that he had to do the forfeit just because he'd lost a stupid bet over a stupid game. His cousin wasn't impressed with Jeremy's flimsy excuses and had insisted that he do the forfeit and had even tried to force Jeremy to go through with it.

At that point, Jeremy had run crying to his dad and uncle about what his cousin was trying to do to him. That'd backfired massively, as they immediately took his cousin's side without even hearing what the forfeit would be. Jeremy's dad gave him an intense dressing down right in front of his uncle and cousin about how he needed to honour his word as a man and that if he wasn't prepared to go through with a forfeit, no matter what it was, then he shouldn't have made the bet in the first place.

Jeremy tried to protest further, but his dad told him to shut it and that if he didn't go through with the forfeit, his dad would stop paying for Jeremy's university tuition as well as Jeremy's rent, as he was only prepared to help his son if his son was capable of acting like a real man should.

With that ultimatum, Jeremy saw no other option but to give in, so he sat down on the floor, slightly leaned backwards, and allowed his cousin to straddle his face and force his sweaty crotch against his nose and mouth.

Jeremy couldn't see his dad's and uncle's reactions to him being forced to sniff his cousin's balls through his football shorts, but he could hear that his dad had gone dead silent whilst his uncle roared with laughter as he gleefully told Jeremy's dad that it looked like the question of whether Jeremy could act like a real man had been settled firmly as a no.

Jeremy couldn't pay much attention to his uncle's taunting of his father, as he was too busy sniffing his cousin's cock and balls through his sweaty shorts. Jeremy only hoped that the growing bulge in his pants wasn't noticed by his dad or uncle, as he'd have hell to pay if they thought he was getting off to being humiliated.

Unfortunately for Jeremy, his cousin quickly spotted and pointed out Jeremy's bulging erection, yelling to his dad and uncle about what a sick, horny queer Jeremy was, all whilst he bounced his arse up and down against Jeremy's face, smothering any of Jeremy's denials before he could even speak them.

After that day, it was clear that neither Jeremy nor his dad was ever going to live down the humiliation for as long as their cousin and uncle had anything to say about it. The only comfort that Jeremy's dad had was that at least his son had learnt not to make bets if he wasn't prepared to go through with the forfeits.

Although that didn't stop Jeremy from making similar bets with similar stakes in the future. It turned out he'd gained some appreciation for the musky smell of a man's cock and balls, which was only further cemented the first time he'd lost a bet to his uncle and had to sniff his crotch.

Jeremy's cousin and uncle had a grand time after that, taking it in turns to shove Jeremy's face into their crotches. Much to Jeremy's dad's continued embarrassment. Not that he could do anything about it, of course; after all, he'd been the one who'd told Jeremy that he had to follow through on his bets.

[lailalalesisblog]

Stranger danger

Clark kent x reader

In which you get drunk and don't recognize your boyfriend

11:12 PM – Somewhere in Metropolis, outside a very loud rooftop bar

You were not a heavy drinker. Clark had learned that by date three.

So when Lois insisted you try the new bar she found for girls’ night, and you tried to keep up with everyone else—Clark knew.

He knew.

He got the call from Lois around midnight: “Hey, Kent? Your girl had, like, half a glass. She’s a mess. She keeps hugging a potted plant and telling it to grow strong and proud.”

He was there within minutes.

Clark stepped out of the elevator and was immediately hit with the scent of perfume, bad decisions, and four different kinds of fruity alcohol.

“Hey, Smallville!” Lois shouted, half-waving, half-holding you up. “She’s all yours.”

You were sitting slouched on a barstool with your chin in your hand, staring at the decorative lights like they were a philosophical mystery. Your lip gloss was smudged, your hair was in slight chaos, and you looked like you’d just remembered gravity exists.

Clark approached slowly, smiling. “Hey, baby. You ready to go?”

You blinked. Then squinted. Then recoiled so hard you nearly fell off the stool.

“STRANGER DANGER!”

Clark paused, hand halfway out.

“…Babe?”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, creepy tall man!” you slurred, pointing your finger dramatically at his chest. “You’re not my boyfriend. He’s hotter. You’re just a knock-off brand.”

Clark raised a brow. “Knock-off?”

“Yeah!” you said, wobbling as you stood up with all the grace of a baby deer. “My boyfriend? He’s a dream. He has big muscles and bigger dimples and the soul of a golden retriever—also? He could kick your ass, so back off.”

He gave Lois a look. She just shrugged and pulled out her phone to start filming. “For future blackmail.”

Clark turned back to you, biting back a smile. “Honey. It's me. Clark.”

“Lies. LIES!” you gasped, stumbling back. “Clark would never wear that ugly jacket. And his hair is fluffier. You used too much gel or something.”

“I didn’t even—"

“AND,” you added, raising a very unsteady finger, “my Clark smells like cinnamon rolls and comfort. You smell like laundry detergent and coffee.”

Clark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay. What do I have to do to prove I’m me?”

You squinted. “Tell me the name of our cat.”

He blinked. “Dimple.”

“…Lucky guess.”

“I know the exact number of times you’ve watched Pride and Prejudice in the last month.”

“That’s public information! Anyone who has my insta knows that” you declared.

“I also know,” he said, leaning in just enough to murmur near your ear, “what you whispered in my ear last night. Right before I—”

“OKAY YOU’RE CLARK,” you said very quickly, smacking his chest and immediately flinging your arms around him. “Why didn’t you say something sooner, you weirdo?”

“I literally did,” he mumbled into your hair, already scooping you into his arms bridal style.

You snuggled into his neck and sighed dramatically. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

From over his shoulder, Lois called out, “Good luck, Kent! She threatened to fight a streetlamp earlier!”

“I stand by that,” you muttered sleepily. “It looked like it was judging me.”

12:02 AM – Your shared apartment, Metropolis

Clark balanced you in his arms as he unlocked the door, gently pushing it open with his foot.

You stirred against his chest, blinking up at him with all the grace of a starfish learning how to walk. “Wait… this isn’t my house.”

He sighed. “It’s literally our apartment.”

“…Our apartment?” you asked, confused.

Clark raised an eyebrow as he carried you straight to the couch and set you down carefully.

You gasped. “You moved in with me?!”

Clark just looked at you. “…We’ve been living together for almost a year”

You blinked. “Oh my god, we’re married.”

Clark huffed a laugh. “Sure, if that helps.”

You suddenly looked down at your feet. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“My shoes are strangling me.”

“They’re heels,” he said patiently, crouching in front of you. “They do that.”

You stuck your leg out like royalty. “Fix it, peasant.”

“Wow,” Clark muttered with a smirk as he unbuckled one strap. “You get wine in and suddenly I work for you.”

“I’ll double your salary if you also get me snacks after,” you said, already slumping sideways like your spine had turned to jelly.

He got the other shoe off, then gently helped you to your feet. You immediately draped yourself over him like a scarf.

“Okay, let’s get you in pajamas,” he said, walking you toward the bedroom.

“I love pajamas,” you said dreamily.

He guided you to sit on the bed, rummaged through your drawer for your favorite soft shirt (his shirt), and returned to find you trying (and failing) to remove your dress by yanking it over your head while still sitting.

“Alright, I got it,” Clark said, laughing softly as he knelt in front of you again and gently pulled the dress up over your head.

You blinked blearily, still sitting there in your underwear. “You’ve seen me naked, right?”

“Yes,” he said patiently, sliding the shirt over your arms and tugging it into place. “Like, a lot.”

“Okay good,” you nodded, like this was vital information.

He helped you into your pajama shorts, then guided you to lie down, pulling the blanket over you. You hummed happily as he tucked you in, hair flopping over your eyes.

“Hey Clark?” you mumbled, already halfway asleep.

“Yeah?”

“I know I called you ugly earlier but you're really, really hot. Like stupid hot. Like I would absolutely make out with you right now but my mouth is not sure where my face is.”

Clark laughed quietly and kissed your temple. “I’ll take a raincheck on that.”

You smiled sleepily, fingers curling in his shirt as he sat down beside you. “I like you,” you whispered. “Don’t tell my boyfriend though.”

He grinned. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

10 minutes later

“W-Why are you so beautiful?” you wailed, sitting upright, clutching the fabric of his shirt like it grounded you. “It’s not fair! You look like—like a prince. But also, like, a kind school librarian. How??”

Clark blinked. “Um—”

“I love you,” you sobbed, wiping your face with the hem of the shirt you were wearing—which was, unfortunately, still his shirt. “You’re just—Clark, you’re so nice to me. And strong! And you carry the groceries in one trip! You always put my fries in the bag before I remember to ask!”

His heart melted on the spot. “Sweetheart, it’s okay—”

“No!” you sniffled dramatically, pointing at him like you were on a soap opera. “You don’t understand. You’re, like... the most beautiful man. And you love me? Me?? I’m a weirdo with shiny powers and sarcasm for blood and you’re—you’re you!”

He wrapped his arms around your trembling frame as you cried into his shoulder.

You hiccupped. “You’re perfect. I bet even your organs are symmetrical.”

Clark tried not to laugh as he tucked you closer. “Thank you, I work very hard on my internal balance.”

“And your nose,” you whimpered. “It’s so straight. And your hands are really big and safe, like oven mitts but sexy.”

That one made him lose it. He laughed so hard, his body shook.

“I love you too,” he whispered into your hair, kissing the side of your head. “Oven mitts and all.”

You sniffled and curled into him. “Promise me you’ll always be this pretty.”

“Can’t make any guarantees,” he said gently, “but I can promise I’ll always be yours.”

You nodded, your eyes already fluttering shut.

You’d been quiet for about a full minute now—curled up in his arms, cheek pressed against his chest, breathing slowly like maybe sleep had finally claimed you.

Clark adjusted the blanket over you gently.

And then—sniff.

"You're so good," you whimpered.

Clark looked down, concerned. "Still thinking about my oven mitt hands?"

"No!" you wailed. "I'm crying because you're... you're so good. Like annoyingly good. You make me want to be a better person, and I didn’t even ask for that!”

He smiled, rubbing slow circles against your back. “That’s not a bad thing, baby.”

“Yes it is!” you pulled back to look at him, lip wobbling. “You don’t get it—I used to hate bugs. Like, full-blown scream-and-launch-a-shoe-across-the-room hate.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“But now?” you placed a dramatic hand over your heart. “Now I gently escort them out! I trap them in a cup! I talk to them! I say things like, ‘I don’t like this either, little guy, but I’m being a good person today because of Clark Kent.’”

He bit back a laugh.

“I nearly cried yesterday when I saw a spider,” you added. “And not because I was scared. Because I was proud of myself for not committing murder.”

“That’s genuinely impressive,” Clark said, completely endeared. “But if there’s ever a bug you don’t feel emotionally ready to negotiate with, I will be your backup.”

You sniffled. “You’d do that for me?”

He nodded. “I’d fight a thousand spiders for you.”

You clung to him tighter. “You’re my hero not superman—my superhero. My emotionally balanced, sunshine-of-a-human, insect-sparing angel man.”

Clark chuckled as he kissed your forehead, heart full to the brim. “And you’re my dramatic, glowing, slightly drunk, bug-rescuing princess.”

“I’m gonna marry you,” you slurred sleepily against his chest.

“I’m holding you to that,” he whispered.

You were already half-asleep again.

Morning after

There was something both peaceful and ridiculous about watching you sleep with one arm flopped dramatically over your face like you’d just fainted from the weight of your own emotions.

Clark had been up for a while now. Not because he needed to be — he could have slept another four hours easy — but because he’d woken at dawn with your wine-soaked declarations still echoing in his head:

“You even make me save bugs, Clark. BUGS. That’s love!”

He smiled to himself from the doorway, arms crossed, leaning into the moment.

You were still wearing his oversized T-shirt, hair sticking up like a windswept crown, mascara smudged like warpaint. You looked both completely chaotic and completely divine.

God, he loved you.

The night before had been a whirlwind: the potted plant pep talk, the streetlamp argument, the declaration that he was "too beautiful to be trusted," and, of course, your tearful vow to marry him... probably soon.

And through it all, he’d just held you. Because your love — messy, honest, loud, and too big for your body — was the most grounded thing in his life.

Even now, passed out and softly snoring, you were his favorite view in the entire universe.

He crossed the room quietly and crouched beside the bed.

You stirred, face scrunching like the sun had personally offended you.

“...Clark?” you mumbled.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispered.

You groaned. “Why’s the sun so loud.”

He chuckled. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

You didn’t answer right away. Then came a muffled, defeated: “...Did I cry?”

“Oh, yes.”

“About your face?”

“And my hands.”

You rolled onto your back, one hand over your eyes. “Oh no.”

“And the bugs,” he added gently, grinning.

“God help me,” you whispered into the pillow.

He kissed your temple, brushing your hair back like it was instinct. “You were perfect.”

You peeked up at him, one eye squinting like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to believe him yet.

“You’re lying to make me feel better.”

“Always,” he said, smiling. “But also not really.”

You paused. Still groggy. Still blanket-wrapped and unbrushed and softly glowing in the morning light.

And then you whispered, “I meant it, you know.”

Clark blinked. “Meant what?”

“Last night,” you said, quieter now. “About wanting to marry you. About the bug thing. About… everything.”

His breath caught, just for a second.

He took your hand gently, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I know,” he said. “I meant it too. All of it.”

You smiled then — a small, sleepy, devastatingly sincere smile.

And he couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and kissed you again, slow and soft, like a promise.

As he pulled back, your eyes were already fluttering closed again.

“Clark?” you mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“You’re still really pretty. Just so you know.”

He laughed quietly, resting his forehead against yours. “And you’re still mine.”

“Damn right,” you whispered, already halfway asleep.

And this time, you stayed that way — curled against him, safe and glowing and annoyingly good — the literal best decision he’d ever made.

---

@animegamerfox

[kaivenom]

I found your recently and love your work. So can you write an imagine about op man (mostly the straw hats) dealing with a much much weaker significant other that's on their crew. No matter the trouble they get themselves in they never get hurt or die and it's every single time. Please If you can.

The monster trio dealing with a weak s/o

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji

Masterlist

Luffy

He couldn't possibly care less.

You are on his crew, what he wanted from the moment he saw you and you are with him, which is even better.

It doesn't matter if you can't take down an army if you just are ready to hug him at the end of the day.

Also, the thing he was really surprised is your luck.

He is happy that somehow you manage to survive everytime, he even jokes about it sometimes.

Everytime something like this happens, you have a heart attack, but he is there with an smile and a hug, ready to make you feel calm again.

Zoro

He is not going to lie if you ask him, sometimes he feels like it is a burden.

Mostly cause he believes in the use of power and training.

But because you are his partner, he is ready to help you improve and try to be stronger.

He is a not so good coach, but he still tries and you appreciate it.

He always has an eye on you during battle and more than once he jumped between you and the danger without thinking.

Something he may reproach you later but he would do it again everytime cause he is ready to sacrifice himself for you.

But he is also really grateful to destiny or the forces of nature for letting you get out of battle alive everytime.

Sanji

He is somehow happy, cause most of the time woman are stronger than him.

This makes possible for him to be your knight on shining armor.

Of course he would try and help you be stronger, but also wouldn't care if you don't do it and start relaying on him everytime.

Also, that doesn't stop him from having a heart attack everytime you both went to battle.

He doesn't know how you do it but he is more than grateful when everything passes by and you both reunite with a smile an a kiss.

He always cooks you some of your favourite foods when you both have a nearly death experience.

[kiraisrika]

Limited Time Darling // part 2

Chapter 2 : Chasing Ghost

House on Hold Skylar @/everyone Has anyone heard from our human in these past days?? the notification popped up, accompanying it is a muted Ting!

Chapter 1 : The Time Limit Chapter 2 : Chasing Ghost (you are here!)

Dorian just finished his job as a bouncer in the city’s club. He loves his job which is basically the same as his job in your house, to protect what's inside.

Keeping something safe is what brought him comfort, though it is also why he has built a thick wall around his heart, yet somehow, a certain human broke it down and took his heart. His journey with you was slow, but with each door you talked to, each layer of thick walls that he built up, you tore it with a gentleness he can't describe, as if he were fragile.

you love him in every form, every circumstance, without requisite or deadline. Because you have a lot of love to offer.

it wasn’t just him, he knew you have others you kept close to your heart and he didn’t mind it. when he departed, he had hoped for you to live a fulfilling and happy life, he had hoped for life to love you such as how you love them.

House on Hold Skylar @/everyone Has anyone heard from our human in these past days??

the notification popped up, accompanying it is a muted Ting!

but how is it, how is it that he had taken you for granted. He looks at the group chat, and the dotted dots from people trying to reply. to think he had somehow forgotten about you is something even he can’t believe but he did, he did.

he tries to type up a reply, jogging his memories of when the last time he saw you, he cursed his human mind that can’t store memories as good as his previous form. A memory finally came up, the new years party.

He had stayed behind to help you tidy up the mess that was caused by the others. He remembers your dangerously warm body when he held you closely, you brushed it off as a simple cold, before allowing him to go home.

House on Hold Dorian replied No

It felt like a gut punch.

House on Hold

Skylar @/everyone Has anyone heard from our human in these past days??

Dorian. No

Mateoo No :(

Dolly oh no i have gotten so busy i forgot to check up on them

Hank #1 me and the others also haven’t heard from them

Farya unfortunately i also haven’t heard from them

Mac last time i saw them is the new years party ..do you think something happened?

Hector ???

Dunk no way right??

Skylar replied to Mac Mac.

Mac I’m just saying, you’re not the only one who’s worried about them

99+ typing…

Celia now everyone, please calm down surely there was a less worrying reason for their lack of communication

Eddie so we all messed up we forgot about them

Celia exactly so how about we arrange a meet up so that we can check on them

Mateo I agree, its the least we can do

Skylar okay!! thats settles it, you ALL better show up.

—

that brings a little bit of needed comfort for Skylar, she sighed, turning off her phone and hold it closely to her chest, almost hugging it.

she looked to the ceiling of her apartment, and let out a silent prayer.

“Please let it be a simple misunderstanding, i beg you,” Skylar prayed, seemingly to no one. Mac’s comment bothered her, what if something really does happen to you? How will she face you? how will she face herself ?

let this little lie be the shield that protects her heart would you?

—

By the time Skylar got to the front yard of the house that was once held hers and other’s memories it had already been crowded. All the familiar faces she had known since forever are there, it felt like a reunion, if not for the looming anxiety that washed over everyone.

She greeted a few old friends, Her eyes then followed to the front porch, she can see Dorian fumbling with the keys to the house, she recalled the memories of you giving a spare key to Dorian at the new year party.

“Come on! you’re a door can’t you go faster??” Reggie protested, Dorian shot him a glare and rolled his eyes.

Skylar tilted her head, she turned to Dorian, “They aren’t home?”

Dorian shook his head, “No, I have to use the key they gave me,”

“We have tried to call them, it all goes straight to voicemail,” Celia joined in her face contorted to worry. “one of the Hanks decided to ask the neighbours, they say it has long been vacated by the owner,” she shakes her head.

“But, why would they leave the house?,” Skylar asked, her heart twisted to guilt.

“We’re about to find out,” Dorian said simply.

Dorian found the key and inserted it into the key hole, his hand reached for the door knob, and promptly opened it.

the door hit the inner walls with a gentle thud. It was silent, eerily so. Dorian was the first to enter, his eyes scanning the house.

all left untouched, dust collected from years of abandonment, the house stays the same, unchanged, it was as if time stood still inside it, no matter how much the world changed. there is a difference though, it was missing your touch of warmth, the photos or paintings that once decorated the house with the help of Memoria and Artt is missing, it seems like you took it with you when you left, even little trinkets that once carried the soul of the dateables are missing, such as Chance’s D20, mateo’s blanket that once draped over Koa, Barry’s make up, Timothy’s clocks, one of Parker’s games, and other appliances you need when you moved out.

Celia instructed a few dateables to search different parts of the house, preferably that they were most familiar with, the office, the living room, the bedroom, the kitchen, the laundry, the bathroom, the gym, even the attic, for anything anything that gives them clue of what happened to you.

A few other dateables are trying to reach you, calling your numbers, searching the internet for any trace of you. but it all ends the same, by the time their communication dissipates 4 months ago, any sign of your existence is close to nothing. It's as if the world opened up and swallowed you whole, as if you never existed.

Among the dateables, Maggie was the one who searched the hardest, it is her job as detective after all, every nook and cranny she scanned, she moved upstairs, unfortunately not finding anything in the first floor.

When Maggie reached the bedroom upstairs Betty and the others had started searching the room, while others searched the cupboards, under the bed, and the closet, Maggie immediately spotted the unusual red sweater that you always use on the bed, the others probably ignored it because it looked like regular clothes you left behind but almost all the clothes have long been taken.

Maggie followed her instinct, grabbing the sweater and opened its neat fold. A letter sits in the middle of it, she was right.

“Guys… i found something,” Maggie announces.

—

The living room is crowded, dateables sitting on the floor, few are standing behind Celia who’s holding the unopened letter. the thick tension of suspense dawned upon them like a layer of blanket.

Celia opened the letter slowly, her hand slightly shaking almost as if she’s…hesitating. She weighed her options. Whatever lies in the letter that you wrote may change everything. Maybe not reading it was the better option, but they need to know, they have the right to know what happened to you.

4 months of silence, 4 months of no returning reply, 4 months of disappearing from their world, leaving only a single letter to greet them home instead of a hug or a smile.

so she opened it, letting the dark brown thread that held it together fall to the ground. it felt heavy, heavier than anything she ever held, maybe it's not the weight of the letter itself, its the weight of the truth that lies beneath it.

The first thing she and the others saw is not the letter itself, it's a paper, not just any paper, it's the deed to this house, a deed is left to their name, just barely legal and passing the scrutiny of the nation. Celia puts it aside and she reaches the long awaited letter.

Dearest hearts,

it starts.

since yall have been so patient and the support is lowkey insane, here is a special sneak peak, just for you <3

[usefuljesbian]

I'm gonna make an attempt at translating this

literal translation

content warning sexual assault ok so timeline so be for real is sexual assault roleplay ok if I'm an xx enby?? my boyfriend or significant other or whatever is an enby white xy trans woman so i know it is up to me to do it if we do do my nonconsensual roleplay because he is xy so if we do an xy on xx roleplay it might be nonconsensual nonconsent, id est sexual assault. oh yeah to me he is my he because we do boyfriend on girlfriend roleplay. my two cents is it is ok because too long didn't read I'm neurodivergent

localization for people who can read

hey Twitter followers, is it problematic if i do noncon rp as long as I'm afab? my partner is a white nonbinary trans woman so he's amab which means i know I'm the only one allowed any sexual agency here because if he had the agency in the roleplay it would obviously be rape. oh yeah because of the roleplay we do i get to call him whatever pronouns i want. anyway i think i should be able to do whatever i want because I'm neurodivergent

politically de-euphemized translation

hello potential hatemob of terfs that comprise my following! i think it would be fun to rape my transfem significant other who i already misgender and i think i need plausible deniability if HE decides to complain about it, so I'm just going to sprinkle in the idea that the penis is the rape organ and I'm ontologically incapable of sexual violence due to my divine pussy vibrations. don't worry I've already gaslit HIM into letting me call HIM whatever i want by claiming it's part of a scene. thanks for helping to create the atmosphere that would inform HIM that HE'LL be lynched if HE protests. and anyway I'm going to call anyone who tries to criticize this arrangement anti kink and ableist so i should be fine. let me know what you think 😇

hmm. dont like this one

[imnotjustreadingg]

heyy! i'm so addictive to your story 😍

for the Tony X reader (yess for doing it) can you do a low maintenance reader with the very super rich Tony Stark and he's always so surprised she's with him for love and not for money ???

executive privileges

a/n: thank you so much, and sorry if i'm replying late. hope you like it!!!

The elevator doors open with a soft ding, and like a hurricane in a three-thousand-dollar suit, Tony Stark strides out onto the floor of the Stark Foundation’s headquarters. Latte in one hand, sunglasses still on indoors, and his attention locked squarely on the woman typing behind the front desk. “Miss Y/L/N,” he drawls, voice smooth like aged bourbon, “you look criminally underpaid for someone with that face.” You don’t look up. “Morning, Mr. Stark.” “Morning? It’s ten-fifteen. I’ve been up for hours, changed the future twice, and still had time to admire your... formidable work ethic.” He leans casually against your desk, latte lifted like a prop. You arch a brow and finally glance at him. “I’m sorry, was that before or after the press conference where you insulted three senators and declared yourself the sexiest man alive?” “Technically, I didn’t declare anything. Forbes did.” He smirks. “But thank you for reading the headlines. It’s sweet.” You return your gaze to your monitor. “It’s my job to track your public disasters.” “Ouch.” He feigns a wounded look, overdramatic as ever. “Cold. I like that. Keeps me on my toes.” You sigh, turning your chair fully to face him now. “Tony, I know you flirt with anything that breathes and has a security badge.” “Wrong. I flirt with you. The rest? Just background noise.”

You narrow your eyes, unsure whether to roll them or actually blush, which annoys you. Because you know who he is. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist with a superiority complex the size of Manhattan. But then again, you’ve seen him at 2 a.m., still in the lab, helping fund prosthetics for wounded veterans. Quietly. No headlines. Just... him. There’s something under all the bravado. A man trying. “You’re a walking HR violation,” you mutter.

The door to your apartment hadn’t even been fully closed when your heart snapped in two. It was the laughter you heard first. A woman’s, too familiar, too close. Then his voice. And then the sound you’ll never be able to scrub from your memory. The unmistakable rhythm of betrayal coming from the bedroom you paid half the rent for. You didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. You just... stood there. Took one slow, numb step back. Then another. And when the door shut behind you, it was like the universe slammed it shut for good. Behind the door, you now ex boyfriend trying to call your name.

You just needed a place to breathe. A place where everything didn’t feel like it was crumbling. You didn't expect him. Tony was at the workbench, arc reactor dim under the fabric of a black t-shirt, jacket tossed on a chair. His brow furrowed over some prototype... until he looked up. And saw you. “Y/N?” You froze halfway into the room. The hallway light caught the redness in your eyes, the tremble you couldn’t hide anymore. You were still wearing your work clothes, now wrinkled and hollow-feeling. You hadn’t even changed. You couldn’t. You left too fast. Tony stood up slowly, something unreadable crossing his face. “Hey. What happened?” You shook your head. Tried to laugh, but it broke halfway up your throat. “Guess I caught my boyfriend having a very neighborly moment with the girl next door.” Tony blinked. Then his jaw tightened. Visibly. Hands fisting for a second before relaxing, barely. He walked toward you slowly, not touching, but close enough that you could feel the concern coming off him in waves. “Tell me you punched him.”

You let out a sharp, bitter exhale. “Didn’t even say anything. Just left.” He tilted his head. “Classic. You always do that. Quiet exit, no scene. Very noble, very... emotionally repressed.” You cracked a small, painful smile. “I didn’t know where else to go,” you whispered. “I've seen you hold this whole place together for months, with a smile, while dealing with me, with press, with board members who have the emotional range of a teaspoon.” He paused. “You're allowed to fall apart too, y’know.” That was it. The dam broke. He didn’t say anything when you burst into tears. Just moved forward and wrapped his arms around you like he knew. Like he’d been waiting for this moment not to gloat, not to rescue but to be there. You cried into his chest, and he held you, one hand gently stroking your back, the other just holding tight.

You woke up sometime past dawn, cocooned in Stark Tower luxury cool sheets, the faint hum of arc technology embedded into the very walls, and the smell of... coffee? You blinked. Definitely coffee. Also, the room was empty. You sat up slowly, heart still heavy but mind clearer. And as your feet touched the soft rug, FRIDAY’s voice echoed politely through the quiet.

“Miss Y/L/N is awake, Boss.”

There was a pause, then the sound of footsteps approaching. A knock at the door soft, hesitant. Not like the Tony you were used to. “Hey,” he called, voice low, muffled through the wall. “I, uh... I didn’t want to assume I was allowed back into my own bedroom. Are you decent? Emotionally or otherwise?” A beat. “No pressure. Just checking.” You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “You can come in.” The door opened, and there he was. Tony Stark, in a worn MIT shirt and flannel pajama pants, hair sticking up like he’d only just gotten out of bed. Which, as it turned out, he had. Handsome He stood in the doorway, scratching the back of his neck. “I, uh... slept in one of the guest rooms. Didn’t want to crowd you.” You looked at him, surprised. “You gave up your bed and your coffee machine?” He grinned, stepping in and handing you a mug. “You underestimate how invested I am in your emotional stability. Plus, I wired the machine into the hallway. It’s mobile now.” You sipped, sighing softly. “Of course it is.”

Tony sat on the edge of the chair near the bed, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees. “How are you feeling? Still want me to have that neighbor arrested for crimes against taste and basic humanity?” You smiled faintly. “That’s... sweet. But unnecessary.” He nodded, quiet for a moment. Then, more serious: “I meant what I said. Last night. About you deserving better.” You met his eyes. “You really didn’t have to stay.” He shrugged, avoiding your gaze now. “I kind of did.” Silence stretched between you. Comfortable, but filled with something. Unspoken things. A shift. A possibility. You tilted your head, watching him. “Why?” you asked. Tony finally looked up. And for once, no joke followed. No mask, no deflection. “Because when someone matters, you don’t leave them alone to fall apart.” He stood up suddenly, like he’d said too much. “I’ll give you space. There’s clean clothes in the guest closet. Take whatever you need. Or stay as long as you want.” You didn’t stop him from walking to the door. But before he left, you said, softly, “Tony?” He turned back, one hand on the doorframe. You hesitated, then smiled. “Thank you.”

And for a moment, just a moment, you saw him falter. His expression softened, and he gave you that rare kind of smile. The one that wasn’t for the press. Or the world. Just for you. You only meant to stay a night. That turned into a weekend. Then a week. Tony never pushed. Never pried. He didn’t ask questions he knew you weren’t ready to answer. Instead, he just... made room for you. Quietly. And one night, curled under a Stark Industries throw blanket, you realized something unsettling, you didn’t care about his money Or his reputation. You cared about him. The man. Not the suit. Which made it harder to breathe.

You didn’t expect to see your ex boyfriend there. Not in the marble-and-glass entrance of Stark Tower, not with security clearly trying to get him to leave, and especially not with that pathetic, desperate expression on his face. “Y/N-please-just listen to me!” You stopped mid-step, arms crossed, spine straight. The ache in your chest had dulled since that night. Replaced by something stronger. Clearer. You didn’t miss him. You missed the version of yourself who trusted him. Big difference. “Security let him through?” you asked FRIDAY, under your breath. “He claimed to be family. That mistake has been corrected.” the AI replied. You stepped forward, calm and steady. “What do you want?” Your ex looked like he hadn’t slept. Hair a mess, shirt wrinkled like he’d been wearing it for days. “I made a mistake, okay? It didn’t mean anything with her. I was drunk, I was lonely, I was stupid-whatever you want to call it.” His eyes swept you up and down. “But you’ve made your point. You got your sympathy. You’re living it up now, huh? Must be nice running to Stark.” There it was. Your stomach tightened. You kept your tone cold. “I didn’t run to anyone. You threw me out of our life. I just decided not to sit in the wreckage.” He sneered. “Please. You think I don’t see what this is? You’re just like the rest. Trading up. Sleeping your way into a penthouse.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond. Because suddenly he was there.

Tony.

He stepped between you before you could even process it. No suit. No helmet. No weapons. Just Tony Stark. Cold-eyed. Unblinking. And furious. “That’s enough.” Your ex stumbled back slightly, clearly surprised. Tony tilted his head, voice calm. Lethal. “Let me guess. You showed up here thinking you’d win her back with a few fake tears and a guilt trip. And when that didn’t work, you tried insults. Real original.” Your ex narrowed his eyes. “So what, you her new boyfriend?” Tony didn’t flinch. “No. I’m the guy who watched her cry herself to sleep for three nights straight while you played house with the neighbor.” He took a step forward. “You don’t get to insult her here. Not in my building. Not in my life.” Your ex laughed bitterly. “Wow. You’re really playing the hero now, huh?” Tony’s eyes didn’t leave him. “No. I’m just a man who sees what’s worth protecting when it walks into his life.” Silence. Sharp. Thick. Your breath caught in your throat. Your ex opened his mouth then closed it. Tony’s voice dropped to a dangerous quiet. “Now. You’re going to walk out of this building. And you’re not going to come back. Because the next time you even think about hurting her, you’re going to be reminded who she has in her corner now.” Security reappeared, flanking the ex on both sides. He gave you one last bitter glare then let them escort him out. You just leaned into him, forehead against his chest, finally letting yourself exhale. And he wrapped his arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arms were around you. Solid. Steady. Safe. And your heart was racing.

Maybe it was the adrenaline still pumping from seeing your ex. Maybe it was hearing Tony, Tony Stark, say things no one ever had. Not like that. Not with that fire. That conviction. Maybe it was the way his chest rose and fell, pressed to yours, like he was holding back more than just words. But something shifted. It happened fast before logic could catch up. You pulled back just enough to look up at him. His hands rested on your arms, his thumbs brushing lightly against your sleeves. His expression had softened, but there was something burning just behind his eyes uncertainty, want, restraint. You didn’t think. You leaned in. And kissed him. Soft. Brief. Just enough to let the spark catch flame. Tony froze for half a second, like the idea had short-circuited every neuron in his genius-level brain. Then he kissed you back. Deeper. Slower. Like he’d been holding his breath for years. His hand slid up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek with surprising tenderness. The other arm stayed around your waist, holding you close but not too tight like he was afraid you’d change your mind. But you didn’t. You melted into him. When you finally pulled away, breath shaky, Tony didn’t move. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t joke. Just blinked, eyes flicking between yours. “That was... unexpected,” he said softly. You smiled, cheeks warm. “Are you complaining?” He shook his head. “Not even a little.” Silence stretched, comfortable this time. Familiar. Charged. Then he exhaled a laugh, low and real. “You kiss a guy one time, and suddenly I’m planning out breakfast and thinking about deleting all my dating apps.” Your eyes widened. “You’re on dating apps?” He gave you a sheepish grin. “Technically no. I made a fake profile to test the Stark Industries facial recognition AI. Accidentally matched with six journalists.” You laughed, and Tony stared at you like he wanted to memorize the sound. “I don’t know what this is,” you said quietly. “I just know... I feel different when I’m with you.” He stepped forward again, this time resting his forehead against yours. “Then let’s figure it out,” he whispered. “Together.” And you knew, whatever this was or whatever it became, it wasn’t about the adrenaline anymore. It was about him. And the fact that, somehow, despite everything, he saw you.

Tony was still close, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath brushing your skin. The moment between you had gone quiet, thick with emotion neither of you had dared name yet. And then, with a sly smile creeping onto your face, you leaned in just a little and said, “If you want to buy an island now... I’ll take it.” Tony blinked at you. “That’s what did it,” he grinned. “Not the bleeding heart speech. Not the ‘worth protecting’ line. Nope. You’re just here for the island.” You shrugged, trying to look innocent. “Well, I mean... beach, cocktails, offshore tax advantages. Who could say no?” He tilted his head, amused. “You’re unbelievable.”

Tony leaned back in, lips brushing your cheek with infuriating softness. “I already gave you the Tower. Let’s start there.” You laughed, and he caught the sound with another kiss. This one light, playful, like a promise that the teasing would never end, not if he could help it. And just like that, it wasn’t just adrenaline. It was comfort. Chemistry. The beginning of something that might just be real.

taglist -> @onlyjunisworld @moonlitmorgan @thewitchhofoz @peanutbutt3rcup @overwintering-soldier @thelastbluecookie @chronicallybubbly @staley83 @mistalli @morphoportis @iyskgd @imjusthere1161 @herejustforbuckybarnes @punkprincesskingdom @thursdaylen @asfkoie

[rosie-posie1313]

Lando Norris Fic Recs Pt. 5

08/04/2025

⭒ Lando Norris

Wingman Roscoe by @theundercoversquid

Wolff!Reader

Baby Girl by @boysthatgovroomvroom

she’s kinda hot tho by @l4nd0n0rr1s

in which lando norris has a crush on red bull's rookie

racer girl by @eternally-racing

Lando's more than apprehensive when his daughter wants to try karting for the first time, but luckily you're there to hold his hand through it all.

Challenge Accepted by @rhaenella

it’s been five years since the last chinese gp, so when you and lando are set up to race each other on the shanghai circuit on mclaren’s state of the art simulator, anything is possible…

Espresso by @taasgirl

y/n is a famous singer who also happens to be a massive f1 fan. when she mentions a liking for a certain driver, it's only fate that he tries everything in his power to get her attention.

Comfort Person by @nayziiz

They do be comfy tho!  By @cheriladycl01

You try hide your pregnancy through Lando's large array of hoodies.

Funny Gaming moments with Lando and Max  by cheriladycl01

Just funny moments where Reader is a member of Quadrant and is a big UK streamer that does everything on Twitch and YouTube.

Sims Streams by @sophsbookstore

maiden win by @cutielando

in which all his hard work finally pays off

when in vegas by cutielando

in which you shouldn’t be left alone when in Vegas

Smau

poor oscar by cutielando

in which you traumatize Oscar

lucky number 100 by cutielando

in which he makes his 100th race extra special

driving around  by cutielando

in which you’re too stubborn for your own good

Sleepy by cutielando

in which you always fall asleep everywhere

Stream by cutielando

in which his fans want you to stream with him

hole in one by @sof1shticated

lando norris and his girlfriend share a love, she's just a professional at it and he's... just okay.

smau

new years traditions and drunk kisses  by @/sof1shticated

HOT WINGS  by @propertyofwicked

lando and his girlfriend take on the quadrant hot wings challenge

YOUR NECKLACE by propertyofwicked

smau

WORK EXPENSE by propertyofwicked

no one can quite work out if they’re together - neither can lando. yn? she’s just there for the vibes.

Smau

SECRETS part 2  by propertyofwicked

Fewtrell!reader

ROOKIE by propertyofwicked

INTERMEDIATE by propertyofwicked

the five times max tried to set his best friends up, and the one time it actually worked

slow down, be here by @katsu28

after a long, frustrating day of training, a night in with you is just what lando needs to leave it all in his rearview mirror

Can’t Sleep by @vinvantae

baby finn series, preparations by @eccentricwritingbaby

lando and y/n begin their quest to prepare for their baby on the way, while their first baby is just happy to be included.

baby finn series, the necessary reactions by @/eccentricwritingbaby

y/n is pregnant again, time to tell the world - well, their whole world.

new home by @formula1au

you and lando bought a new house, and you’re trying to decorate it, but it goes completely wrong

Overwhelmed With Love by @fastandcarlos

having family at the race is always fun, but bringing your baby girl to the paddock too excites lando like never before

(what’s the story) morning glory by @lovelytsunoda

noel gallagher’s daughter has a reputation for two things: being the funniest woman on the internet, and really having a thing for american guys. to the delight of all, she shows up at one of her dads concerts with a boy from bristol on her arm.

lando norris being down bad for his girlfriend: a compilation by @harrysfolklore

lando norris can’t help but talk about his girlfriend whenever he cans, fans make compilation videos about it

LESSGO LEGO by @miusvault

every scan, every kick by @its-avalon-08

Sleep by @giannaln4

You always had a hard time falling asleep, but it seems like all you need is Lando to give you a little help.

they don’t know about us  by @rosyblooom

 lando norris x private fem computer science major!reader

Smau

blooming season by @/rosyblooom

four years after she fled monaco, y/n is back on the anniversary of her father's death. however, an unexpected encounter with an f1 driver disrupts her plans.

You’re drunk  by @forensicheart

Lando gets a call to pick up his not so sober girlfriend

told her you were just a friend - by @alittlebitofsainz

being away from home for this long should’ve felt more difficult, but somehow, with lando by your side, anywhere feels like home. still, you can’t tell your mum just yet.

breakfast for three by @pierregazly

Drinks and Jackets by @of-many-fandomss

lando comes home drunk and doesn’t recognize you, and you can’t help but swoon at the devotion your boyfriend has for you

Shh, baby by @op814kitty

The team gets nervous when you disappear after the summer break in 2023, but when you turn up in Vegas after lando's crash, they realise why

tell me you love me by @ynsbarbbb

on days like these, where everything just seems to go wrong, the uttered words from your boyfriend is the only cure

fem!driver!reader

Wagnifesting by @yeahxsurexokay13

y/n is lando's best friend but everyone keeps manifesting for her to be something more.

Happier by @keerysfreckles

kiss me by @arieslost

Haven by @loveluvrs

reader being clingy with lando in the mornings

Angel by @dilemmaontwolegs

Kingsday gets a little wild, in honour of Lando’s nose.

Childhood by @lillysbigwilly

in which… they have loved each other since they were little - very very short smau

young, dumb & bwoke by @delulujuls

there is nothing that lando loves more than a good party and his beloved dutch friends so imagine him with drink in his cup surrounded by whole orange nation. it could be nuts and it was

Seeing Someone by @forzalando

Lando is finally ready to tell you how he feels when he overhears you say that you’ve started seeing someone - but overheard conversations aren’t always what they seem.

Squish by @uglyducklingofthe2000s

Lando calls his girlfriend Squish because she always wants hugs and he is always happy to give her them.

𝐈𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 by @imnameimswrld

lando's protective streak outweighs his ability for patience by a ton, and so when paparazzi get far too close and end up pushing his girl in the midst of trying to snap a few close-ups of the mclaren boy, he snaps

smau

i miss you, i’m sorry by @inthedoghousern

you and lando break up and a few months later he wants to talk. inspired by “i miss you, i’m sorry” by gracie abrams.

Stream interruption’s by @bucket-hat-lando

baby steps  by @eternally-racing

Lando needs a little bit of encouragement to head off to his first race after the birth of your daughter, so what better thing to do than surprise him on race day?

LANDO AS YOUR BOYFRIEND by @mirohlayo

birthday girl by @maplesyrupsainz

in which the tl is full of posts for your special day and the love is overwhelming

smau

If she’s around. By @boiohboii

When lando decides to make a video along with two of his friends for their YouTube channel his girl of course had to make an appearance

leclerc!reader

Extra Special (Lando’s Poppy AU) by @chrisevansonly

lando’s just won another grand prix and his baby girl couldn’t be more excited

First Moves by @final-script

The first movements of the Little Norris

sky full of stars by @arieslost

dj!lando always plays your song when you’re at the club.

Maybe Leave The Cooking To Me by @itsprashimusic

You love to cook, and Lando loves to help, but this time it goes sideways.

My Girl by @anangelwhodidntfall

You have a rough day at work and Lando is here to remind you that your his girl

are you okay?: by @dreamydrifts

Dutch Courage by @vroomvro0mferrari

When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Verstappen!Reader

Our wedding by @goldsbitch

Y/N and Lando probably went a little too overboard when planning their wedding. She finally looses it when his friend suggests a product placement bucket hat.

a digital love letter by @sharlsworld

a glimpse of all the post’s from when they were “just friends”, to there engagement announcement, to the announcement of there first child.

my favourite interviewer. By @ham1lton

the one where you interview your sister and your boyfriend. also part of the nepo!sister universe.

Bragger by @yeahxsurexokay13

fans constantly tease yn for always bringing lando up and being a bit of a simp for her boyfriend - which only gets worse after his first f1 win - so she writes a song about how if they were her they'd do the same.

Forbidden Fruits: Part Two by @ameliablakesblog

Fewtrell!FemReader

annoying (affectionately) by @zjpg

in which lando is your boyfriend

Visiting his family by @charlesslut16

you and lando visit his family on christmas but in the end you discover something unexpected…

Meme by @maplesyrupsainz

in which you love causing mischief and mayhem and both of your fans eat it up

smau

baby we’re on camera by @wintfleur

lando loves teasing his girl on stream

A happy family of four by @theemporium

a f1 gossip page gets insider knowledge of what might be the paddock’s best kept secret. in fact, it is so well kept that even the paddock don’t know who it is about (aka a wee crack fic i couldn’t get out of my head ft the papaya bunch).

Car Shopping  by @jaeeyaaasworld

Y/n decided to finally buy her dream car since she was a child, Lando is accompanying her but the car guy is misunderstanding.

coffee shop by @emotionaldamages

lando decides to take time away from f1 talks and goes to a coffee shop where he meets someone

Slip by @eternally-racing

on a tough race weekend in qatar, you want to be there for Lando

new year’s day  by @chillielo

you spent new year’s eve in tears but a certain pretty boy is about to make new year’s day different for you.

you’re such a dream to me by @prettylittlels

formula one fan singer y/n y/ln is invited to a grand prix where she’ll meet her idol.

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐄 ! ❞

　you are his hiding one and only place or sweet headcanon’s about your relationship before dating and during dating !

featuring. itoshi rin !

content. 0.7k wc , latibule (n.) a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort , fluff fluff fluff , slight crack , rin may be ooc , pre & while dating headcanons , safe for minors , spoiler free , crappy writing , this was a request.

author’s note. a quick and easy request >< next time, please read through the bio, anon! I clearly stated that i’m currently only writing for sakamoto days and gachiakuta but since this was quick one, I still decided to write your request. please enjoy to the fullest <3

PRE DATING.

how to start even? oh boy you're in for a lot as soon as he is aware of his feelings. and to be honest it will take a quite while for him to realise his own feelings because rin is a little dense when you're talking about feelings.

what I can imagine is — how he drops subtle hints to show his feelings so you can come to the idea by yourself.

it would be something simple like sharing his things (like pens, notes, books etc.) with you and that without hesitation. also something like buying a drink from the vending machine and then also buying your favourite drink because he "put in too much coins."

god, he's actually so sweet with his actions that everyone is already aware of his little crush about you. never has he ever shown so much interest in something or someone besides from soccer which is actually kind of crazy.

but unfortunately everyone notices but you. you just think of his actions to be kind and sweet, something a best friend would do. and yes you two somehow are close enough to be best friends — not going to lie, I cannot imagine rin falling in love with someone who isn't close to best friends.

that also leads to much trust. rin puts a lot of faith into you, another sign of his crush. how can you not notice it already? are his actions too subtle? should he be more open?

he's the type to overthink a little bit.

but he also isn't very patient, already annoyed by your dense brain (it's not your fault, he's just not obvious with his hints). that's why he decides to confess on a random day of school while sitting next to you in english class.

"I like you. Are you dense?" something like that or also,

"Ilikeyou."

"Sorry, I didn't follow. What did you say?"

"Oh god." sighs out in annoyance, "Ilikeyou."

WHILE DATING.

while dating? oh boy, it's so awkward between the two of you — unless you're the social type of girlfriend. someone who doesn't shy away from opening up a one-sided conversation.

but on the other hand, you may have been friends before or even best friends yet it will be awkward (for him) since he doesn't know how to act. you're most likely his first girlfriend and he does not know what he should do to be a good boyfriend.

not even the videos he watched helped him but that's fine, you're here with him. you either go in together without having prior experience and learn together. or you are already experienced and guide him through the relationship.

it doesn't take long until you've grown a lot closer which leads to a lot of dates like you watching his matches, going out after club, various activities during picnics like soccer or sports in general and also playing horror games together.

rin is the type to not show much affection or interest yet he tries and you can always see his effort.

something like — sweet messages as soon as you wake up, running up to you whenever he sees you walking at the front, bringing you drinks during the short drinks, walk you home despite living in different directions.

lots and lots of study dates because he needs help in most of the subjects. after all, he has to pass all the exams or he can't play soccer in the club anymore.

sometimes he dozes off and sleeps soundly, showing his rather vulnerable side — if you're in public he would lean against you, either placing his head over your head or your shoulder, depending your height.

oh god the day you meet his parents? you're hella nervous but he reassures you quietly by holding your hand the whole time and confirms you're the one for him. his parents are quite pleased with you being his girlfriend!

the day he meets your parents? also nervous but not as nervous as you of course. he plays it off coolly, well he tries to play it off but it's not easy when your parents are kind of different than his. yet he tells them straight something like, "I want to marry her."

all in all? pretty cute, 7/10 because he doesn't have a lot of time (playing soccer 24/7). still, he tries to make up for that!

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

[joshujin]

first move joshua inevitably has to stop ignoring his manager and get back to his responsibilities and the real world and start preparing for his stupid ass tour that he is now regretting ever scheduling.

he just had one last year then a festival run right after, and he convinced himself he wanted to get right back into it after a brief vacation in the maldives. but now, after several days pretending like the outside world didn’t exist with you—in his pool, on his deck, in bed, in the tub, everywhere another employee wouldn’t be able to see you and rat you out—he realizes that he only ever wanted to schedule his tour as a solution to his increasing loneliness. the dozens of stops around the world, always being followed around or nagged by someone on his team, the hundreds of thousands of fans that came to keep him company throughout the tour. it was impossible to feel lonely then.

he didn’t realize he was doing that until he forgot what being lonely felt like, here in the maldives—here with you. even before he was finally able to have you every which way he wanted, you were a reason to be excited for the day. you were filling his life with laughter, companionship, and… fun! and fuck, he hadn’t had fun outside of a concert in so long.

leaving the maldives even when you were still being overly polite and professional with him had felt heart wrenching, but leaving now, when you felt like some semblance of his… it felt impossible.

the morning of his checkout (something he kept having to actively try not to cancel for the nth time), he lets you sleep in in his bed, getting up early to pack his things away and get cleaned up. when he comes back out of the bathroom, you’re awake and already dressed in the uniform he ripped off you last night, seated on the edge of his bed looking like you just realized he’s actually leaving today.

he quietly kneels down in front of you, lifting your chin with a single finger to look at him. he doesn’t know what to say because he’s feeling as sad as you look, so he just settles for a kiss. it at least brings a smile to your face, so you stand and start helping him getting the last of his things packed into his luggage. maybe he lets you pick out his outfit. lets you pick which cologne you want him to wear (you pick the one he’s been mostly wearing this whole trip). lets you derail his progress a little when you get lost in his lips for a few minutes. tries to let you have your way with him one last time by luring you into bed with those crazy bedroom eyes. but you don’t bite, and he knows he doesn’t want you to—last night was already perfect, and if you two have a repeat of it, he’ll never be able to leave.

then, it’s time to check out. it’s time to exit this suite that’s been his home for nearly a month now, go to the airport, board his private jet… and leave you. you two don’t talk about what will happen from here. you don’t make promises you can’t keep. you just embrace for as long as you can hold onto whatever this is, and then you look at each other like you’re memorizing each other’s faces, and then he leaves.

you don’t accompany him out. you don’t trust yourself to refrain from crying in front of your employees as he checks out, and you both know from the several close calls where he was so sure he could act normal in public with you, he won’t be able to keep from sweeping you up in his arms and kissing you senseless right before he drives away. before he leaves for what could be forever.

so you stay in his empty suite, and you radio the staff to bring a boat out to escort joshua hong to the front desk.

joshua checks out without a hitch, and before he knows it, he’s seated in his luxury jet across from an infuriated manager, who spends the entirety of takeoff yelling at him about how he’d quit if they hadn’t been best friends their whole lives and how he owes him the fattest end-of-year bonus. the scolding eventually deescalates into jokes and questions about how the trip was (“better have been the best fucking vacation after you shaved decades off my life.”).

to his credit, joshua tries to laugh and smile in all the right places. he really tries, but he can’t because life is already feeling helplessly lonely again, and his manager—his best friend—notices and asks what’s wrong.

and it’s exactly that feeling when you’re barely holding it together and someone asks if you’re okay and you just kind of lose it. it’s that lol. immediately, a knot forms in his throat and he can’t even speak, so he just shakes his head as his eyes fill with tears, and his manager realizes for the first time that the superstar wasn’t just fucking around and shirking his responsibilities just for shits and giggles.

they can’t cancel the tour, though they do cancel a few shows with the biggest apologies and promises he’ll come back. and joshua loves his fans dearly so he’s honest—he tells them he needs even more time to rest and focus on his mental health, and that when he feels better, he’ll be back at the cancelled shows first before he does anything else. and bc this is a fake story and his fans aren’t entitled little assholes and are perfect, compassionate, understanding human beings, they are not-at-all mad and are very happy for him to take the time to get healthy.

joshua does get help as he continues the rest of his shortened tour, but he never tells anyone what happened in the maldives. all anyone around him knows is he changed there.

and whatever—whoever—changed him took all the excitement he had for performing and kept it there on the island when he left. the island is keeping the love and spark he used to have for his job and his life, and none of them (manager/best friend included) know how to give it back to him.

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the first move

Your VIP guest needs help, and as his personal concierge, it’s your job to give him whatever he wants.

wc: 12.5k 🤢 tags: pwp (i say even tho it has a monster wc and i already have an entire story marinating in my head for these two) cw: maldives joshua, fem!reader, imbalanced power dynamic (reader is serving joshua as his personal concierge during his stay at the hotel she works at) but everything is consensual, joshua is a solo pop star (not an idol), whipped as usual (pls never expect anything else from me tbh i’m wholly incapable of writing a man who’s not completely and helplessly wrapped around a woman’s finger) smut warnings: dom!joshua, ish?, unprotected piv, semi-public sex? it’s a suite on a private beach but technically any boats could just zoom by i guess?, pool sex, kink negotiation, sir kink, color system (and use of the color red), hair pulling, light degradation, fingering, oral f. receiving, breath play, edging, spanking, dacryphilia if you squint, spitting and before you point out i’m beginning to make a pattern out of svt spitting into mouths idc leave me alone, hickies, doggy style, creampie, cockwarming, scratching hard enough to break skin, brief mention of blood, i think that’s it lmk if not a/n: i remember seeing an article about a couple who had to be hospitalized after having sex in the ocean bc the suction created some kinda vacuum and they got stuck together. so. idk maybe don’t have sex underwater but it’s your life! anyway. here it is. thanks to the anon that motivated me to work on this even if every second was complete torture :) tbh this is probably riddled with typos and mistakes. sorry not sorry bc i feel insane and i just want to be rid of maldives!joshua and i don’t want to have to read this over LMAO. have fun. i guess.

This VIP guest of yours has been quite the enigma for you. You’re used to receiving calls in the middle of the night, insisting you find pizza because your guest is tired of the “weird” (see: properly seasoned) food on the island. Or being forced to be a pack mule, lugging all of their unbelievably expensive belongings around as you follow them and watch them do random activities that don’t require any of the shit you’re carrying. Or being treated like an executive assistant, looking over your VIP’s schedules, fielding calls they keep forwarding to your desk, or even making calls on their behalf—both personal and professional. And you do it all with a smile since it means a tip almost twice your whole month’s pay because these people are so rich, they don’t even know what constitutes as an appropriate tip (and you’re not going to correct them).

But Joshua Hong is unlike any other VIP guest you’ve served before. He definitely demands almost all of your time the same way everyone else has in the past, but the difference is he manages to ask hardly anything of you at all. Which is bizarre because you’re the resort’s VIP concierge, and it’s literally in your job description to do whatever he asks—within reason, of course.

He doesn’t seem to care, though; the man is determined to simply monopolize your time and presence. It’s always the same: he calls for you with some vague variation of “I need help”, and you’ll make your way to his multi-bedroom water suite, where he’ll claim to have forgotten what he wanted but insist you stay in case he remembers (he does not). Or he’ll ask you for your opinion on something like his shirt and insist that’s all he needed but maybe you should hang around in case he needs an opinion on something else. Or he’ll ask you for a recommendation for dinner, something he could have asked you on the phone—or literally any staff member since the grounds are crawling with them. Then, he’ll ask if you can actually escort him there and when you arrive, he’ll insist on treating you to a meal (something you’ll never turn down, though if Joshua Hong continues to provide for you like this, you’ll have to stop doing groceries to refrain from throwing out uneaten food). 

On multiple occasions, your help was requested to extend his stay, which should’ve been over after three days and is now approaching its third week. 

And if your entire livelihood and career didn’t depend on your utmost professionalism, you wouldn’t mind being needed to this extent because to be frank, your VIP guest is the hottest you’ve ever had. You’re used to hosting men pushing 80 on vacation with their 20-something girlfriends. Or greasy incel entrepreneurs who don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. Or asshole celebrities with personalities so ugly, you can’t for the life of you find anything attractive about them. You aren’t used to hosting quiet, kind, gentle, and heartbreakingly beautiful singers who ooze and drip sex appeal, leaving a trail of it everywhere they go. So you do mind being needed to this extent. Because every time Joshua calls you, it’s the fight of your life to stay professional. It’s a test of willpower to keep your eyes from wandering below his neck, and even then, his face is so goddamn breathtaking, your mind is constantly going blank. Every time he walks a little too closely and you get a whiff of whatever delicious cologne he uses, your mouth immediately salivates. One time, he brushed your cheek because he said there was a tiny bug on it. You almost fell to your knees right then and there.

You would do something about it in the real world, but it isn’t the real world; it’s your job, and it’s a job that pays stupid well considering the kind of people you tend to. So you have to stay on top of your game, and it would be so much easier to do that if you didn’t have to have direct eyesight of your sexy VIP—if he would just stop claiming to need you at his side virtually at all times.

Of course, that would be too easy, and that simply won’t suffice. Joshua Hong requires your presence, and now, as you stand frozen at the doors leading to his private outdoor deck, watching him watching you, you’ve never resented that fact about him more. 

The singer is seated in his infinity pool, gloriously backlit by the brilliant pink and orange hues of another looming Maldivian sunset that feels impossible to appreciate with him right there. He has both elbows propped up on the wall he's resting against and both eyes glued to you. 

You were used to letting yourself into his suite; he always told you whether or not you should whenever he called you. You were not used to finding him half naked in the pool with his hair wet and slicked back and a tattoo you weren’t aware he even had visible on his bulging bicep. He doesn’t greet you, soft and kind like he usually does; he doesn’t greet you at all. He simply continues to watch you, his fingers skimming and flicking the surface of the water casually like he hasn’t just put you into fight or flight mode.

As nonchalant as he looks, his face belongs to someone else right now—least of all to the pop star you’ve been assisting for the last two weeks. His now heavy-lidded eyes are devoid of any of the joy and warmth they’ve shown you, now several shades darker—not in color but in want. His usually angelic smile is curled into a barely there smirk that makes you feel like he’s taunting you, and something about his posture tells you that he’s entirely, completely done. With what, you’re not sure, but the sudden, dull ache between your legs makes it very clear it wants to find out.

He doesn’t speak, obviously perfectly content with staring you down like you’re prey. The only sounds come from the gentle breeze coming through his suite’s private beach, the tide of the ocean behind him, and the light splish splash of his fingers against the water. When it’s getting to criminally awkward levels of silence, you clear your throat and stiffly force yourself to step away from his room and onto the deck fully. Even then, you stand right by the door like it’s an emergency exit.

“Mr. Hong,” you greet him, bowing your head a little. His smirk only deepens. “You called for me. How can I assist you, sir?”

He hums in thought, the sound deep and rumbling coming from his naked chest. You want to press your hand up against it and see how the vibrations of his contemplation feel. You frown a little at your inner thoughts before schooling your face and forcing your brain to focus. Joshua Hong has made you a mini fortune staying at the resort as long as he has, and if you can manage to finish his trip strong, you’ll have more than enough to cover rent until the end of the year.

“I did call you,” he confirms, nodding slowly. “I’ve called on you quite a bit during my stay, haven’t I?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, Mr. Hong,” you lie. He’s called you more than any other VIP ever has, and you’ve hosted billionaires that made it their mission to ensure you didn’t get a wink of sleep on their watch. “I’m always happy to help you, sir.”

He snorts, smirk turning a little mean. It makes you feel entirely too warm despite the hotel’s lightweight uniform. 

“Why don’t you take a seat?” he asks and gestures to the chair nearest to the edge of the pool opposite him with a nod.

“A seat?” you practically squeak, feeling a bit too out of control of your hormones to be any nearer to him than you already are. Your willpower already wavers dangerously on a good day. But today? When he looks like this? And is practically burning a hole into you with his eyes? You don’t trust yourself to keep your job if you’re not planted right here, by the exit. “I’m fine, sir. I—”

“Sit down.”

The command in his voice is something you’re not-at-all used to—not with him, and not with any of your other VIP guests. Most of your clients use their overly nice—if not totally inappropriate—schmoozing voice with you. Men who want to butter up their young, female host. Billionaires cosplaying as normal human beings so you feel more comfortable around them. For the entirety of his stay, Joshua Hong has exhibited nothing but an elegant and delicate demeanor, voice never louder than it needs to be. Always as soothing as the very breeze on this deck. Never sharp around the corners, never thick with dominance like it is now.

Your legs are moving, you’re pulling the chair out away from the outdoor table, turning it to face him, and your ass is meeting it before you realize what’s happening. As soon as you’re seated, you can see how pleased he looks and it surprises you to realize it makes you just as pleased to evoke that reaction out of him.

“What can I help you with, Mr. Hong?” you ask again, slowly this time so he hopefully doesn’t hear how labored your breathing suddenly is.

He narrows his eyes at you infinitesimally like he’s studying you, letting silence blanket over the both of you again. Finally, he answers: “I don’t need your help.”

You frown. “But… you called me, sir.”

“And every time I’ve called you for the past two weeks, I never needed your help,” he says frankly. He huffs a laugh out. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need you around to rattle off restaurants to me that I can Google.” He pauses before he apologizes for his snappiness. “Sorry. I seem to be at my wit’s end tonight.”

You believe it. He’s never been so direct and so serious with you before. You almost feel like you’re at the principal’s office getting scolded. You purse your lips a bit to keep it from turning into a confused scowl. 

“I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Hong,” you say through barely concealed annoyance. What you really want to ask is: Then what the fuck was I coming all the way down to your suite and torturing myself for?!

“Well, what other reason would a man like me want a woman like you nearby?” he asks like he’s spelling it out for a child. 

You fidget a little, as your panties get more and more soiled by the second. You can’t say you didn’t wonder if he called on you because he just wanted you near him, but like anybody else would, you convinced yourself your ego was too big for your own good and that while mind-numbingly sexy, maybe Joshua Hong was also just incredibly useless. Or lonely. Or both.

You clear your throat. “I… um…”

His laugh comes out as a scoff. “Let’s be honest with each other. I’ll go first. I’ve extended this hiatus of mine countless times just to be able to spend more days around you,” he informs you. Your eyes widen at him and he nods like he agrees with something you didn’t even say. “Yeah, I’m still here because of you. Insane, right? I have a world tour to prepare for and instead, I’m still here. In the Maldives. With my entire team’s numbers blocked so they can stop calling me, and I can be left alone to think about all the things I’d do to the hotel’s VIP concierge if given the chance and the time. But I can’t keep putting my life off. I have to get back, and I don’t have the time to wait for you to figure it out anymore.”

The words leave you with absolutely no air, and you briefly contemplate scrambling out of the chair and running back through the door, never to see the singer’s face ever again. 

You are going to lose your job if you stay here, you horny bitch! your conscience screams at you. Against better judgment, you stay seated and settle for squeezing your thighs tightly together.

“I call on you day and night with zero requests for you, I make any excuse to be physically near you, I shower you with compliments and praise, I try to make conversation with you—try to get you to stay around me for as long as possible before you go running back to your office… so it’s either you don’t return my attraction or you’re choosing to ignore me.”

“It’s not that I don’t return your attraction,” you assure him so quickly, you can’t even stop the words before they’re out of your mouth. “I… um, you’re very, uh, kind, Mr. Hong. I thought that’s all that was,” you say honestly. He keeps staring at you so you fill the silence with a more straightforward answer to the question he didn’t ask. “It wasn’t clear to me that you… were staying here because of me.”

He tilts his head at you, drops of water sliding down his skin in that direction, and your intrusive thoughts assault you in a way they never have before. You want to lick the droplets right off his tan skin. You want to lick, suck, bite, and bruise that skin. You want to work hard enough that your sweat mingles with the water on him now. More than anything, you want to shrivel up and die.

You find it unnerving how well he can maintain eye contact. Your gaze keeps flitting from his face, to the ocean, to the floor, to the sky, and back, and each time, he’s still staring at you like you’re all he wants to waste time looking at. 

“I’m at a bit of a disadvantage,” he says, voice so low, you almost miss what he says against the sound of the tide. He doesn’t wait for you to ask what he means. “I can only make my desires so clear before this becomes a client inappropriately harassing an employee who’s being forced to be in his proximity. I’m not going to do something that you’re being paid to grin and bear politely. I only want someone who genuinely wants me back.”

Your mouth opens to respond but you stop yourself. This is your job! the annoyingly responsible voice in your head shrieks. Do not get yourself fired! Your embarrassingly wet cunt is screaming very different things at you, though.

He wants you just as badly as you’ve wanted him this whole time. He wants to touch. He wants to taste. Let him!

“We’re in the grey area. If there’s a first move to make at all… I was never going to be the one to make it,” he states, eyes so deliciously carnal, you want to jump into the pool and eat him right up. “It’s your turn to be honest. So…” he trails off as his gaze rakes your entire frame painstakingly slowly. He only continues when his eyes meet yours again. “With the assurance that you won’t be punished or your pay withheld for turning me down… I want to know. Is there a first move to make?”

“I…” you start, having no idea where that train of thought is going. “I’m…” Joshua doesn’t rush your answer, but his intense attention doesn’t waver either. He patiently waits, eyes fixed on you the whole time as you muster up the strength to say the last thing you want to. “I can’t.” The ache between your legs is agonizing. “This is my livelihood. I’ll… I’ll get fired for doing this… I can’t.”

You think it’s something that should disappoint the singer, but instead, his smirk makes a return, curving up at one corner of his pretty, pink mouth. You realize it’s because even as much as it sounds like one, it isn’t a rejection; it’s a confirmation that you need this just as badly as he seems to. You’re just holding yourself back a tiny bit better than he is.

“You’ll only get fired if someone finds out,” he says, voice raspy with want. “Do you see anyone around that would find out?”

You inadvertently look around. He’s spending five figures a night to stay at one of the most expensive suites at the hotel. It comes with its own building, its own deck, its own dock, and its own private beach. The only boat driving by would be staff coming to his suite. There isn’t anyone here, and there won’t be—not as long as you are. The front desk knows you’re here, and you’d be called over your radio before anyone would dare to show up at your VIP’s suite unannounced. 

“No,” he answers for you, sounding triumphant. Like he just won an argument. “You don’t. So let me ask again.” That dominance from before seeps back into his voice now. “Is there a first move to make?”

You know that realistically, you never had a chance. Resistance was dependent on Joshua Hong never wanting you the way you wanted him. Your willpower could only go so far and if a sexy singer wanted to fuck your brains out before he had to jet back to his unimaginably lavish life, who were you to stop him?

You swallow the dryness in your throat and you give him a small nod.

“I’ll only accept words as consent,” he tells you. The authority in his voice tightens the already wound up coil in your lower abdomen.

“Yes,” your mouth answers even as your brain struggles to fully register what he just said. “There’s a first move to make.”

“Good,” he says like there was always a right and wrong answer and you just chose correctly. “Then come here and make it.”

You’re up and out of your seat as soon as he commands it. Your hands tremble as you set your phone and the tablet you bring everywhere down on the table behind you. You take your earpiece out, unclipping the radio it’s connected to from the back of your skirt and putting it beside your tablet. You unplug the earpiece and turn the volume up on your radio so you can hear anybody who calls for you on your channel, and when that’s done, you pause to realize that this is truly the last chance you have to leave. After this, you’ll be stuck with any of the consequences you might face for sleeping with your VIP. 

“You can change your mind at any time,” he assures you, obviously sensing your hesitation. “Even if you get in here, even if you let me have my way with you. At any point, if you don’t want this anymore, you can change your mind.”

You glance over your shoulder to look at him. His expression is just as desirous but you can tell he’s being sincere. It’s in the eyes—those eyes that you only realize now tell on him and every thought and feeling he has. You just haven’t wanted to really look at them until this very moment.

“I’m not changing my mind,” you finally decide as you turn away from the table. You walk slowly to the edge of the pool directly in front of him.

His eyes drop to your feet as you carefully toe off your heels, and you thank whoever’s listening that you decided to get a fresh pedicure over the weekend. You slowly undo the side zipper on your skirt and you let it slip to the ground, biting your lip when the ocean breeze meets the heat of your cunt through the thin layer of mesh covering it. Joshua’s stare never wavers and his blank expression never changes, but you know his tell now. You can see how badly you’re wanted through those big, brown eyes.

You unbutton your blouse, and when it’s completely undone, you shrug it off, letting it slip off your arms to join your skirt on the ground. You fight the urge to cover yourself now that you stand in front of him in nothing but your bra and panties (a mismatched pair because your luck ended with the pedicure). 

Joshua hums like he’s mulling over a thought but whatever it is, he doesn’t vocalize it. “Well?”

You lift a foot out of the skirt and place it on the first step into the pool, the water the perfect temperature. Still, you shudder against your will, and you know it’s because you’re now a measly two steps away from a VIP who’s made it clear exactly what he wants to do to you tonight. Your fear of losing your job is quickly turning into an ugly, desperate, and uncontrollable need to be filled. Filled up by Joshua Hong.

You make it down the steps too soon, the water coming up to your waist as you stand in front of Joshua, who’s still as tall as you despite sitting on the seat that lines the infinity wall. 

He leans back against that wall now, water lapping up against his arms and chest as he looks at you, one eyebrow quirked like he’s asking if you’re brave enough to take what you want.

Your answer is to reach forward and rest your hands on his shoulders—so tan and warm and hard—and pull yourself up onto the seat to straddle him, hungrily pressing your drenched, aching cunt to his pelvis. Your hands immediately venture down to his naked chest— so wide and built and solid—and despite the confidence he speaks with, you feel the way his heart beats wildly under your touch. He inhales deeply and slowly, but he makes no move to put his hands on you yet, knuckles turning white as they turn into fists.

“That’s the first and last move you get to make,” he informs you. “Tonight, you’re mine to do whatever I want with. If you agree to this…” his voice gives away how little control he’s holding onto, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” He swallows before he asks, “You still want this?”

You don’t hesitate to nod. “I want this.”

He doesn’t smirk this time; his mouth is more interested in other things—mainly yours. He reaches up and cups a hand around the back of your neck, gently pulling your face to his. He wraps the other arm around your waist and maintains eye contact with you up until the moment your own eyes flutter shut. Then, his lips are parting yours, his tongue greeting yours, his moans mixing with yours. With how gentle the singer has been the past two weeks, you don’t expect his mouth to move the way that it does. Filthy and greedy. Possessive.

It ignites something in you—feeling like you belong to Joshua, like he’s staking a claim on you. You start to roll your hips into his, your clit aching for any kind of friction he’s willing to give you. You feel him hardening under you, and you try not to quicken your movements even more in excitement.

Suddenly, the hand on the back of your neck dives into your hair and his fist closes around it, not roughly but enough to tilt your head back and have you breaking away from the kiss to look at him.

“Is this okay?” he asks as he leans forward and plants open mouthed kisses up your neck, just barely tightening his fist to let you know he’s talking about the hair pulling.

“Yes,” you breathe. He has a tight enough grip on you that you don’t even try to nod. “God, yes.”

His dick twitches under you and you groan, rubbing your cunt against him. 

“What about spanking?” he asks slowly, his breath hot on your neck. When you say yes, you feel him smile into your skin just before licking the spot. “Degradation?”

“Like what?”

He comes back up from your neck to kiss your lips gently, and when he smiles—genuinely smiles—you see remnants of the man you’ve gotten to know in the last two weeks shine through. “Like… can I call you… a slut?” You instinctively squeeze your thighs. He smirks when he feels you against his own thighs, and you nod.

“What did I say about consent?” he reminds you.

“Yes,” you say aloud this time. “You can call me a slut.”

He kisses you again and it feels like a reward for following directions. You crave even more.

 “Whore?” 

“I… don’t think so.” 

“Okay,” he says easily. “Dirty?”

“Yes.”

“Any words off limits?” he asks, massaging your waist where his hand rests. 

“Uh, can I… can I let you know?” you ask, blinking hard as he goes back to licking up and down your neck, nipping here and there. You can hardly process anything other than that right now.

“Of course, baby,” he murmurs, the vibration of his voice reverberating from his chest to yours. The sensation goes right to your nipples. “And how about… breath play?”

“Choking?” you ask to make sure. You’ve never done most of these; your one-night stands tended to be quick, straight-to-the-point encounters that usually didn’t even involve oral. He nods against you. “Um…”

“You can say no to anything,” he reminds you, relaxing his fingers just a bit to scratch your scalp. You sigh into the soothing sensation, and the hand not currently entangled in your hair drops from your waist in response.

It runs down your side, finding your ass, kneading the flesh there, and pulling your hips even closer to his. You gasp at the friction, and when you instinctively press your chest to his, he fully buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling like he’s been waiting for this. 

“I want to try,” you finally answer, “but I don’t know if I’ll like it.”

“Okay,” he says. “Is there anything you like that you want to do?”

All you’ve wanted since Joshua walked onto the resort grounds was for him to be inside you. You never thought beyond that. You shrug. 

“I don’t think so.” 

He nods his understanding, hips bucking up into you as he rolls you onto him with his hand. “We’ll use colors.” All you can do is moan. “Red for stop, green for keep going. Be vocal, okay? I don’t know what you don’t like if you don’t tell me.”

“Yes, sir,” you exhale in a moan. Your eyes widen at the slip and you look at Joshua. “Ah, sorry, force of ha—”

“Don’t be,” he dismisses your apology quickly. “I like it.” He presses his fully hard cock against your clothed hole. “Do you feel how much I like it?”

You wince at how empty you feel. He’s right there. You just need to pull his shorts down, push your panties to the side, and sink down onto him. You nod frantically, pushing as far as the fabric of your panties will allow you to. “I feel it,” you bite your lip before you accidentally call him Mr. Hong. “Yes.”

His fist closes around your hair once more and a lot more roughly this time. You gasp as it causes you to flinch away. He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.

“Yes, sir,” you immediately correct yourself. He smirks.

“You catch on so quickly, don’t you?” he asks, keeping you pulled off of him. “Such an obedient, little slut.”

His first use of the word sends a thrill down your spine that has you arching into him. But when you do, he tightens his hold on your hair, keeping you in place. He takes advantage of the little space it affords him, and he brings his free hand to your wet heat, two fingers pressing down on your clit hard. 

You inhale sharply and when you try to move your hips further into his hold, he gives your hair a soft tug that reminds you of your place. 

“Uh uh,” he mutters, eyes glued to where his fingers meet your pussy. “I was just calling you a good girl. You don’t want me to have to take my words back, do you, baby?”

You shake your head as much as his hold will allow. “No, sir.”

“Then stop moving and let me do the work.”

He rubs harsh circles into your clit and your eyes shut on their own accord, mouth falling open as your release builds swiftly and mercilessly in the bottom of your stomach. You hold onto his shoulders like that will help you from falling into the abyss of pleasure he’s pushing you into. Your nails start to dig into his skin but he doesn’t stop you; in fact, it seems to invigorate him because he finally shoves your panties to the side, sliding his pointer and middle fingers into you easily, his thumb continuing to work your clit as he pumps in and out.

You can’t help but cry out at the feeling of being full, even if it isn’t what you want to be filled with. Upon hearing the sound, his fingers reflexively tighten at the nape of your neck but immediately relax back to their previous grip, relieving your scalp of the sudden burn it brought on. 

“And edging?” he asks suddenly, voice husky and mean. You open your eyes and look down at him to find him smirking up at you now, his fingers unrelenting as he speaks. “Green or red?”

“Oh god, please,” you whine, already knowing what’s coming next. You try to tamp down the need to grind harder—hide how close you are from him because if he knows, he’ll just stop.

“Green,” he repeats, voice dangerously calm, “or red.”

“Guh—” the word devolves into nonsense as he starts to rub the sensitive, ridged spot inside you. 

“Words,” he grunts, hips inadvertently bucking up into your ass again.

“Gree-gr—” The word isn’t even fully formed in your mouth, or your brain for that matter, before Joshua is taking his thumb off your clit and letting his fingers go still inside you. You groan, this time in frustration, your hips relaxing against him as you fail to reach your orgasm. 

Joshua releases his hold on your hair and you let your head loll forward, forehead resting on his bare shoulder as you breathe heavily. 

“Mean,” you pant. He chuckles, running his free hand up and down your back soothingly like he didn’t just violently rip an orgasm out of your grasp. 

He gently removes his fingers from your cunt, and before you can fidget and get your panties back into place, he’s pushing your hips away from him until you’re standing waist-deep in the water again.

“Are we… done…?” you ask dumbly. 

Joshua laughs the same way he’s laughed at your polite jokes or the way he’s laughed at himself stumbling over his own feet while playing tennis. His eyes crinkle in the corners and his mouth opens in a big smile—far too lighthearted and cute for the current situation at hand. 

“No,” he says when he finishes laughing at you. He stands along with you and cups your face before kissing you hard. When you break apart, he assures you, “We haven’t even started.”

His hands find your waist once more, but instead of holding you there, they immediately move on to your panties, shoving them down your hips and over your ass. When he can’t push them any further without dunking his head underwater, he settles for unhooking your bra, and even though you know there isn’t anyone around, you instinctively press yourself against him to keep yourself covered. He laughs again, wrapping an arm around you tightly, and you feel the vibration of his laughter against your breasts. You press your bare pelvis to his (still annoyingly clothed) at the sound.

“Mmm,” he hums as he reaches down and squeezes your ass again, welcoming the press of your heat against his. “Shy? I told you, no one’s here, baby.”

“I know,” you breathe, though you make no move to give him space.

“Though…” he trails off as he leans back enough to have a better view of your chest. His finger comes up to graze your nipple, smiling when he sees your reaction to it. “I bet a slut like you wouldn’t mind an audience, would you, baby?”

You blush fiercely imagining anyone seeing you get absolutely railed by Joshua Hong. You don’t respond at all because admitting that the idea of it excites you would be so dumb of you as someone who was just terrified of getting caught not even a full ten minutes ago.

“Bet you’d get off on the thought of someone seeing you getting fucked as hard as I’m about to fuck you,” he whispers, catching your nipple between two fingers now and tugging roughly. You hiss at the sensation. “Acting all shy, but I know you’d love for everyone to see how well you take me. How hard I’ll make you come.”

“Joshua…” you breathe.

His hold on you tightens and his eyes snap up to you, his teasing with your nipple completely forgotten. “Say that again.”

It dawns on you then that it’s the first time you called him anything beside Mr. Hong or sir.

Even though you get the feeling you should ask for permission to do anything at all, you can’t help but lean forward and catch his lips with yours, and thankfully, he doesn’t step away or tell you you’re not being good. He eagerly returns the kiss, tongue diving into your mouth like its second nature. When you part, you make sure to be as filthy as possible when you moan: Joshua.

For the first time, you see his control slip, his eyes suddenly wild and frenzied as he shoves his own swim shorts down and kicks them away from the two of you. You try to catch a glimpse, but he gets to work immediately, blocking your line of vision to his dick.

He starts kissing his way down. Down your neck. Across your clavicles. Down to your chest. Tongue swirling around your nipple as he cups his hand around you and  pushes your breast up and into his mouth. Down between the valley of your tits, down your sternum. You think he’s done because any lower involves going underwater, but you’re proven wrong again. He takes a deep breath against your skin before he sinks under the surface of the water, and you jerk when you feel him kiss past your belly button, and down to just above your cunt. Without meaning to, your hands go into his hair, not to restrain him or pull the way he did, but to keep you from floating outside of your body, which you’re convinced will happen at any moment.

He doesn’t breach the surface even when your hands turn into fists, and you feel his fingers hook into your panties and pull them the rest of the way off, sinking deeper and away from your hold so he can kiss down your legs as he removes your underwear from each. And instead of coming back up like you again incorrectly predict he will, he wastes no time burying his face between your legs, his thick arms parting them and lifting up so that you fully come out of the water, squealing a little at the sudden movement and the bite of the breeze as it caresses your skin where the water was keeping you warm. 

You sway to keep your balance, but Joshua doesn’t let you go anywhere. You’re seated right on his biceps, legs wrapped around his head as he presses his hands into the small of your back to keep you on his mouth. You gasp and arch your back before rolling it forward when you feel his tongue slide between your folds until it finds your clit. The movement sends your cunt further into his mouth, but he doesn’t stop or complain. He walks a few steps to the edge of the pool opposite the infinity wall.

He gently lowers you so that you’re seated on the concrete, your feet submerging back into the water. He pushes your legs open wider, until they fall off his shoulders and you’re leaning back on your palms to spread for him. Then, he’s devouring you like he hasn’t eaten in years. 

Joshua’s mouth is delectably hot when it fully envelopes your clit properly this time, tongue spiraling around it feverishly. He makes out with your pussy just as well as he does with your mouth—maybe even better—and it quickly knocks you off your hands, forcing your back to meet the ground as it arches in sheer pleasure.

He pauses briefly to look up at you through heavy lidded eyes and with that voice that makes your legs quiver, he orders: “Say it again.”

You open your mouth to say his name but he continues putting his tongue to work and all that comes out is a depraved moan. He slips a finger in you and hooks it, rubbing the spot inside you once more. 

“Say it,” he practically barks this time, refusing to return his mouth to your clit until you say it. 

His finger rubs the spot aggressively, and you feel tears begin to run down the side of your face and into the concrete beneath you. It feels like he never edged you to begin with—like your orgasm had been building up that entire time and is now coming back tenfold.

“Joshua,” you whimper, thinking that’s not how he wants to hear it, all pathetic and needy like this, but he groans in response, pleased and bending back down to reward you. When the heat of his tongue is back on you, your hips buck into his face and you warn him, “Joshua… going to… I’m going to come.”

“Go ‘head, baby,” he mumbles without lifting his mouth off of you. He adds another finger and your hands close tightly around nothing. “I’ve got you. Come for me.”

You’re not sure what it is about being reassured that Joshua is holding you through it, but the safety you feel pushes you the final few strides, and your orgasm crashes into you like a violent wave. 

“Joshua!” You’re not sure if it’s a shout or a moan, but either way, the man responds to his name and works you through the height of it, his tongue and fingers simultaneously slowing when your pussy starts to unclench, calming down to small spasms around Joshua. 

When he’s sure it’s passed, he removes his fingers and pokes his tongue into your hole, causing your legs to tighten around his head. He doesn’t remove you, though, too lost in tasting your climax. You moan through it, tears still steadily streaming down your face as you start to venture into overstimulating territory. He seems to sense that, though, removing his tongue from you—but not before licking up and down your slit like your cum is a delicacy he doesn’t want to go to waste.

“Joshua,” you pant, chest heaving as you stare up at the sky above you. You can’t find the energy to sit up and look at him so you settle for closing your eyes and saying his name once more.

It isn’t until you feel the warmth of the water embracing your body again that you realize the singer has carefully brought you back into the pool with him, taking it upon himself to wrap your legs around his waist and keep you close to his chest. He kisses the tears in your eyes gently before going straight to your lips. He tastes like you and chlorine. It’s slow and sensual and not-at-all hurried or desperate the way the others have been, and somehow, that gets you even wetter. It feels like Joshua no longer fears not having enough time with you. It feels like he has the luxury of having too much time with you—like he can kiss you forever and not have to go anywhere or do anything or be anyone. 

“You taste unreal, by the way,” Joshua mutters against your lips between kisses. “So much better than I thought you would.”

“You thought about this?” you ask, resting your forehead against his. 

He looks at you with zero shame when he says, “Morning, noon, and night. If I wasn’t with you, I was thinking about you, dreaming about you, touching about you.”

“Me too,” you admit. “Wanted you so bad, I dreaded having to see you every day.”

“Oh? And why is that?” he asks even though if his smugness is anything to go by, he knows exactly why. You indulge him anyway.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to control myself,” you say quietly. 

“I’m glad you couldn’t,” he tells you before kissing you again.

Your hips move on their own, grinding against him except this time, you’re exhilarated to feel his dick sitting ready and hard just under you. You sigh and brazenly start to rock your hips back and forth, dragging your clit across the length of his cock, the remnants of your orgasm still sending shocks up your nerves. You continue anyway.

He hums, mouth turning up in a smile. “So needy, hm?”

“Yes, sir,” you openly admit. Now that you have one orgasm out of the way, you’re feeling less ashamed about expressing exactly what you want: more of him. “Needy for you. Want you inside me already.”

He grips your ass so tightly, you think it’ll bruise tomorrow. He releases briefly to deliver a hard spank to the cheek, quickly gripping the spot again to soothe the sting. You jerk into him, gasping as you do.

“Color?”

“Green,” you answer quickly as you continue to use his dick as a toy.

“You’re being a little demanding, don’t you think,” he states more than he asks. “I thought I was the VIP guest.”

“You are,” you agree, applying more pressure to your clit as you roll your hips up his cock. You suppress another sigh. “My VIP guest.”

You’re not sure if Joshua likes you staking your ownership on him because you get no visible reaction from him. All he does is ease his hold on your ass, rubbing slow circles into the flesh he just struck. “I’m going to fuck every last thought inside that pretty head out of you,” he says quietly. “Until all that’s left is my name.”

You clench around nothing. 

He brings you back to the infinity wall, setting you on the seat where you first found him. He cages you in, one hand on the wall on either side of you. 

“I’m going to ruin it for every man that comes after me,” he tells you, nose just barely grazing yours as he stares at your lips. “You’re never going to be loved the way I’m going to love you tonight.” 

You know that “love” means something very different right now. You know that. And still, you see brief flashes of the Joshua you’ve gotten to know over the past couple of weeks and the word stirs something violently inside your chest.

“So then do it already,” you breathe, the anticipation killing you. 

His hand is around your throat in a split second. He doesn’t squeeze, simply tapping his pointer finger against your jugular. “Don’t get mouthy with me now, baby. I’m ready to give it all to you.” He takes your hand and wraps it around his cock, and you moan at the size of him in your grip. “Are you going to be good?”

The hand around your throat squeezes lightly now, his fingertips applying pressure to the sides of your neck. Your breath hitches.

“Color?”

“Green,” you rasp.

He squeezes a little harder. “Are you going to be good?”

You nod, swallowing nothing. He smirks when he feels it under his palm. 

“Words.”

“Yes.” It comes out more mouthed than spoken but he accepts it all the same.

Without sacrificing the pressure around your throat, he takes his free hand and hikes your leg around his waist, the other following naturally. You resist the urge to bring him closer to you, knowing it might push another button and make him decide you aren’t ready for him. So you lock your ankles together over the small of his back, but you don’t move a muscle.

“Tap my forearm twice if you want me to let up, okay?” he tells you, eyes going down to your neck. He lightens his hold just enough for you to whisper you understand before he squeezes again. You close your eyes, trying to breathe through your nose evenly. “We can always stop, baby.” He leans down to kiss your jawline before moving to the corner of your lips. “We can take it to the bed. We can fuck missionary. We can not fuck at all. Just say the word, and we do whatever you want to. Alright?” 

The pressure lifts completely. “Okay. I trust you.”

He kisses you more fully. When he leans back, he brushes strands of wet hair away from your face. “I’m glad. Because I’m going to take such good fucking care of you, baby.”

Then, with both hands, he’s gently lifting your hips up and angling them to meet his. His eyes don’t leave your cunt as he watches the water-blurred shape of his cock start to push into your entrance. You grip his forearm as you stretch around him, and even though he’s not choking you right now, you find it hard to breathe as he inches into you. 

He pauses when your hand squeezes harder. He leans forward to kiss your forehead, his right thumb massaging the crease of your hip. “Doing so well,” he mumbles, eyes shut as he, himself, adjusts to the tightness. 

When he feels you relax a little, he opens his eyes and continues pushing, fully sheathed just moments later. You both exhale forcefully like you’ve been holding your breaths the entire time. He laughs a little at that, and you find yourself smiling too, even though you do feel like you’ve been impaled by his dick.

“You can move,” you whisper when you’re sure you’re not going to die in his arms. He doesn’t waste any time after that.

His cock slowly and carefully drags out of you, not quite all the way, before he thrusts back into you sharply. You gasp at the sensation, most of it a stinging burn rather than pleasure, but you know it’ll be a very different story once you acclimate to Joshua’s size. He keeps his movements shallow like this, only allowing for a slightly deeper thrust every time he feels you relax a little more. You feel like the wind is getting knocked out of you every time his hips slap flush with yours, his balls hitting your ass so forcefully, you think you might be able to come from that alone. By the time Joshua is pulling all the way out before slamming all the way back in, the pain has already evolved into a pleasure so foreign to you, you can’t even wrap your mind around what’s so different this time that you never received in the past.

All you know is that Joshua was right; sex is going to be absolutely ruined with every man that comes after him.

“Joshua!” you gasp as he fucks you relentlessly and recklessly now. His eyes flick up from your pussy to your chest, where your tits bounce in tandem with his every thrust. As if he’s listening to a voice inside his head, he releases his hold on one hip and grabs your breast, massaging it before leaning down to suck a bruise into it. “Oh god.”

Your moans turn downright pornographic as his fingers twist and tug on your nipple, his mouth immediately moving to another spot to bruise. His hips never lose their pace or rhythm as he paints your chest with blooms of purple. 

“Joshua,” you repeat his name, though you don’t know why. He says your name right back at you and you feel it all the way down where your bodies are joined.

“Feel so fucking good,” he groans, releasing your tits and leaning up to bury his face in your neck. He kisses the skin there, merciful enough to refrain from leaving hickies that can get you in trouble at work. “I’ve waited for you for so long. Fuck. Fuck!”

“Joshua, please,” you whine, your nails dragging down his back desperately. 

You aren’t even sure what you’re begging for; he’s as close to you as he can get, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. You want him buried inside you forever. You want to be so filled up with him, you can’t remember what it’s like to go without. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything or anyone else more, and you already have him right now. You don’t know what else he can do, but you know you need it.

“What is it, baby?” he asks, voice hoarse like it’s taking everything in him to have to speak right now. 

“More,” you breathe, hips rising to meet his with even more force. You know your ass will be sore tomorrow. “Please, more.”

He doesn’t ask what you need or what “more” is. He just smirks as he gets impossibly rougher, thrusting into you almost violently, your shoulders getting pounded into the wall behind you. But you don’t care. You need more.

Just as your second orgasm starts to rear its head and you’re about to start chanting “yes” to the rhythm of his thrusts, he slows down considerably until he’s almost at a standstill. You shake your head.

“No…” you whine, trying to use your feet behind him to quicken his pace again. Of course, it doesn’t work.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he whispers as he rolls his hips torturously slowly, the water calming down to gentle ripples with his movement. “You weren’t about to come without asking, were you?”

“No,” you lie.

“No…?”

“No, sir.”

“Good,” he breathes, slipping his hand in between you to massage your clit gently. Your hips twitch and he smiles. “Because then we’d have to punish you, right?” You squirm under him, trying to keep from digging your heels into the small of his back to get him to thrust forward. “You want more?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, please. Yes.”

“Do you think you deserve more?” he asks, his fingers stilling against you as he sheathes himself all the way inside you. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Really?” he asks, his free hand trailing down the side of your face as he continues slowly rubbing your center. “You made me wait almost three weeks… tortured me with that tight fucking skirt.” You groan as you tilt your pelvis. He leaves your clit to hold your hips still. “Uh uh.” 

“Joshua…”

“Shouldn’t I make you wait too?” he asks, ignoring his name. The thought makes you want to sob. “Shouldn’t I show you how it felt? To want someone so bad—someone within reach—and be unable to do anything about it?” 

“I wanted you too!” you remind him, voice embarrassingly dejected and helpless.

“Did you?” he tilts his head at you, staring you down like you’re food. Your nods are frenzied. “If you want more, you have to give me more, love.”

You clench around him at the pet name and he smirks. 

“Tell me more, love,” he says tauntingly, his smile turning triumphant when you clamp down even harder the second time. 

“Since I met you,” you say raggedly. He finally starts to move again—so slow and controlled, you’d be in awe of his restraint if you weren’t so desperate for release. “When I came to welcome you…” 

“I remember,” he says with a roll of his hips.

You had been waiting for him at the boat with one of the drivers, ready to take him to another side of the island, where his private suite awaited. He was dressed in a linen button down and shorts, and as he came up to you, the wind blew his hair and his top back, exposing a little of his stomach. His smile was dazzling and for the first time in your career at this hotel, you were speechless. You stammered. You tripped getting into the boat. You stumbled through your tour of his suite. You forgot to list all the resources available to him. You were screwed from the start. 

“Wanted you to take me right then and there,” you tell him. His pace quickens the tiniest bit at that, and you know exactly what you have to do to get your more. “You walked up to me looking so fucking beautiful—so sexy.” You moan at a particularly hard thrust. “I wanted you to bend me over in half right there. Take me in front of everyone. Fuck me like this and show them all who I belonged to.”

That seems to do it because he finally gives you more, his pace more vigorous, more unforgiving, and more brutal than it originally was. You’re glad he doesn’t ask you to keep going because you’re incapable of speaking when he’s ramming into you like this.

“I would’ve,” he grunts. “All you had to do was ask and I would have fucked you wherever you wanted it.” You gasp as his cock hits an especially sweet spot, and he angles himself to continuously hit it with each thrust. “All you have to do is ask, baby.” He plants a kiss on your lips. “And I’ll give you the fucking world.”

“Joshua,” you near sob. 

“Yes?”

“Please,” you request. If all you had to do was ask, then you were going to. “Please let me come? Please.”

He kisses you again like he’s happy with your corrected behavior. You lean up to chase his lips when he parts with you, but he restrains you, grasping your jaw roughly with a single hand.

“Open,” he commands, his thumb reaching up to part your lips. You suck on it briefly and he exhales hard. He squeezes your cheeks to open your mouth even wider before he leans down, lining his mouth with yours, and you clench hard around his cock as you realize what he wants to do. “Color?”

“Green!” you practically shout at him. His smirk deepens and he leans back once more. His hand moves from your cheeks to your throat.

His lips purse and cheeks hollow for a moment as he swishes a few times. Then, he nods once at you, and you tilt your head up for him, opening your mouth wide, tongue out to make sure you don’t let anything go to waste.

Joshua’s eyes are glued to your mouth before he even does anything. He watches you with darkened eyes, his thumb pressing into the middle of your tongue as he fucks into your cunt harshly. Finally, he lifts his thumb and stretches forward, his hold on your throat tightening and restricting your airflow. His mouth twists into that irresistible smirk as he spits into your mouth. You catch all of it, and when you feel it hit the back of your throat, you both feel how happy it makes you in your pussy. He curses as your walls start to spasm. He presses more weight into his hand until you can hardly breathe, and between his hold on you and the spit, it’s all so filthy and degrading and possessive, it makes you come without warning. 

You cry out as your hips jerk up abruptly. His eyes widen as he feels your orgasm replace his own hold on you. His hand releases you as he looks down where the two of you are joined. 

“Oh fuck, did you just—”

His question is cut off by your broken moans and whimpers, tears once again springing from your eyes as your orgasm rips through your body, absolutely obliterating every nerve on its way up from your pussy.

“Fuck, fuck, baby, stop. Oh fuck,” he gasps, pausing his thrusts abruptly and breathing heavily as he collapses over your chest. He closes his eyes and frowns like he’s concentrating. “Stop squeezing, I’ll come. Stop, holy shit, please stop.”

It’s a far cry from how dominant he’s been this entire time, and it’s a shame the rare moment of power you feel you can’t properly acknowledge or enjoy because of the intensity of your orgasm. 

“I’m trying,” you whimper, breaths coming out in short pants. “Joshua…” you either sigh or sob. You’re not sure. “Shua… feel so good. You feel so good.”

“Oh my god,” he groans miserably against your skin, fully resting his forehead on you now. You would laugh if you didn’t feel like your soul had just been ejected from your body. 

You beg your heart to slow down, for your muscles to relax. As broken as your body feels, you’re not ready for this to be over with him. Even though this is already more than you could’ve ever hoped for, you don’t want it to end here. You want him to do whatever he wants with you late into the night. You want him to deprive you of sleep, food, water. All you need is him. You never want it to stop.

He slips out of you slowly and your tears slide down your face, half from your orgasm, half from the disappointment of being empty once again. Being empty too soon.

“Wait, no,” you whine as he tilts your hips back down so you’re sitting against the wall again. He shushes you with a kiss to your lips.

“Shhh,” he peppers your face with kisses. “We’re not done, it’s okay.” You realize you’re still crying when he presses his finger to the corners of your eyes, catching the stray tears there. “You’re so fucking pretty when you cry under me like this.”

He cups your face to look up at him as he stands over you. When you do, you’re astounded by how beautiful he really is. What you’re more astounded by is that he was inside you just moments ago. Joshua Hong, superstar singer due to start his sold-out world tour in a matter of weeks, was inside you trying not to fill you up with his cum seconds ago.

“I’d have you crying like this every night if you wanted,” he murmurs, thumb caressing your cheek as he holds you. He lets one slip into your mouth again, smirking as he probably thinks about how easy it was to make you come from just a little bit of his saliva.

“I’m sorry,” you grumble when he removes his thumb. He frowns.

“For what, baby? You’re doing so good.”

“For not relaxing,” you say, more tears slipping out of your eyes. “For not letting you continue.”

He snorts, hands going down to your waist. He lifts so that your legs are wrapped around him in the water, his hands rubbing your ass comfortingly. He kisses you slowly before leaning back and smiling.

“You don’t have to be sorry for that,” he assures you. “I just didn’t want to come too early.” He presses his erection into your ass to punctuate his words. You squirm a little. “We still have the whole night.” Your heart races. “The sun is barely setting.”

He glances behind you and you crane your neck around to see. The sun is finally beginning to sink into the horizon. He lets you down and turns you around to face the ocean, pulling you to lean back into him as his arms snake around your waist. You rest your head on his shoulder as you watch the sunset—not the first you’ve watched together, but it will definitely be the most memorable.

The time allotted for sunset viewing on his itinerary is apparently only a few seconds long because almost immediately, he leans down to leave open-mouthed kisses up and down your neck, and his hand comes up to cup your breast and massage gently. 

He brings his free hand to your chin to turn you toward him. His lips are on yours as soon as they’re within his reach, his hand sliding from your face down to your cunt, where he slowly and way-too-gently strokes your clit. Your first moan seems to stir something in him, though, because his touch on your tit and clit both bear down harder. 

You wrap your hand around his wrist, bringing his hand from your chest to your throat, wordlessly asking him for exactly what you want. He chuckles, breathy and disbelieving. 

Without saying another word, he leaves your clit, fingers hooking into your hip to force you into a slight hinge. Then, his cock is pushing back into you in one smooth motion, giving you no chance to gasp when the hand on your throat squeezes simultaneously. He keeps his hand on your hip for leverage, wasting no time pounding into you.

Your thoughts disappear as fast as your breath, leaving you with nothing but the sensation of Joshua’s tip kissing your cervix, keeping you stuffed full of him. 

“You wouldn’t believe my view right now,” he pants, rhythm quickly reaching a fever pitch. “So fucking pretty.”

You try to moan his name but realize you can’t, your airways completely blocked off, his grip on you unyielding. 

“You like being spit on and fucked like this?” he asks, causing your walls to cave in on him. He doesn’t tell you to stop this time, though, his pace just quickening. “Such a dirty fucking slut for me, hm?”

You nod, mouth dumbly opening and closing as you gasp for air. You want to see it through. It feels so good and you want to see it through. You want the both of you to climax like this: literally breathless with his hand around your throat like he owns you as he empties his load into you. But it’s been too long now, and you’re afraid Joshua is getting carried away, too lost in the feeling of his cock dragging in and out of you to notice that your vision is starting to darken around the edges.

Hoping he remembers what he told you, you quickly tap his forearm twice, three times—actually, several times in a row with no intention of stopping—but it’s unnecessary because he releases you immediately. Without his hand to hold you in place against him, you fall forward, keeling over the infinity wall and coughing as air assaults your lungs once more. 

“Red,” you rasp, brain barely catching up with the fact that you’ve already been released. 

“Hey, hey, deep breaths, you’re okay.” His voice sounds far away but his hands are on your back, rubbing it gently.

You don’t know how long you two stay like that, him seated next to your body as it lays limp on the wall, attempting to catch your breath. By the time you finally do, the sun has fully set and the deck, though still doused in a shade of pinkish-purple, is considerably darker. You turn your head to look at Joshua, who’s angled toward you, one arm on the wall propping his head up, the other hooked around you, holding you close. He’s watching you, face carefully blank, but his eyes immediately give away how concerned he is.

“I’m okay,” you say quietly, throat feeling a bit sore.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and your heart squeezes at how guilty he sounds. You nod. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He scoots closer to you and wraps his other arm around you, burying his face in your neck. “I got carried away, but that’s not an excuse. It never should’ve gotten to that point. I know better, and it—”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, shaking your head. “I should’ve said something earlier. I was trying to wait it out.”

“Please don’t ever wait something like that out,” he begs, moving away to look you in the eye and show you how serious he is. “Next time, tell me immediately. You should still be able to breathe! You shouldn’t have to wait anything out!” He seems to realize he’s raising his voice because he pauses for a moment to collect himself.

“Joshua, I—” 

“No, listen to me,” he interrupts, voice calmer now. “This can be really dangerous. I promise I won’t ever lose control like that ever again, but we’re not doing this next time unless you also promise you won’t wait it out. These things only work when we communicate.”

“Joshua, I’m fine—” he throws you a severe look and you hurriedly continue, “but yes, I promise. I won’t wait… next time.” You emphasize the last two words as you say them back to him. He catches on to what you’re doing but doesn’t address it, simply shaking his head and smiling. “Anyway. I’m so s—”

“If you apologize to me right now, you’ll never see me again.” You didn’t even know seeing him again was an option in the first place but you clamp your mouth shut anyway. He smirks. “Good girl. Now come on. Let’s dry off.”

“What?” You hate how whiny you’ve sounded this entire time, but you can’t stop either. “I don’t want to dry off!”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re taking a break and it’s not up for debate. Come on. I have some snacks. We can eat them and watch that movie you were telling me about yesterday.”

You look at him incredulously as he unwraps himself from you and stands. “Are you insane?! I’m not going to watch K-Pop Demon Hunters with you when you should be coming inside me!”

He pauses and looks at you with wide eyes as if he’s the scandalized one. You’re seeing more and more of the original Joshua you’ve been hanging out with the last two weeks now that your poor lung capacity has ruined the mood. 

“Whoa, dirty, dirty,” he murmurs, shaking his head at you.

“Joshua.”

He raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head slightly. You recognize it as a challenge. “Yes?” 

You open your mouth but falter under his gaze. He grins before stepping toward you to kiss you all too briefly. When he pulls away, his smile is gone and he’s staring down at your lips with dark eyes. 

“Stop mouthing off and get your cute ass out of the pool,” he says, voice low. He looks up into your eyes before he continues. “Or I’m going to edge the fuck out of you until the sun rises.”

You’re out of the pool and wrapped in one of his towels in seconds.

“Look at you,” Joshua mutters as he brings both of his large hands to each of your buttcheeks, spreading them apart just to let go, watching the way your ass jiggles. “Unbelievable.”

You’re on your knees, face pressed down into his pillows, already crying from being edged twice. It turns out there were still consequences from being “a whiny fucking brat” even though you did get out of the pool. Joshua runs his dick along your folds, making lewd sounds as he collects your pleasure on his tip. Your broken moans fill the room.

There’s something even better about sex with him after your brief movie break. Because in those two hours, it was clear he wasn’t just using you as a hole—though frankly, you’re more than happy to be Joshua Hong’s hole. 

But no. He was a perfect gentleman. He dried you off and insisted on showering off the chlorine, gently massaging shampoo into your hair and cleaning you and peppering you with kisses without trying to pull a single move on you. Then, he got you into his clothes, blowdried your hair, and tucked you into his bed while he gathered snacks and drinks, surrounding you with everything that you’ve mentioned liking since meeting him (he was an incredible listener). And as you watched the movie, he held you and laughed at all the right parts, happily replayed your favorite songs, and he even promised he’d learn the songs to sing to you himself.

And something about those two measly hours was doing something to your cunt that you didn’t experience in the pool. It’s as if receiving confirmation that Joshua Hong would be the perfect boyfriend is making sex with him a thousand times more electrifying than it already was.

“What was that you said earlier, love?” he asks, feigning forgetfulness. “Something about wanting me to come somewhere?”

You try to scoff but it comes out as a pained sob. “Please.”

“Was it… on your stomach?” he asks, pressing his tip into your hole briefly before running it back down your folds. You groan. “Your face?” He must see you clench around nothing because he chuckles. “Huh, so you wouldn’t mind the face.”

“Joshua, please,” you pant. 

“What?” he asks meanly. “What does my needy little slut want now?”

“You,” you answer simply. “I just want you.”

The silence that follows is so thick, you wonder if you said something wrong—if your desperation finally turned him off. 

“Joshua?” you whimper, tears sliding down your face.

His cock pulls away from you and you fight the urge to immediately start complaining lest you get edged five more times. His hands are on you, gently turning you over onto your back. You’re naked from the waist down, but you’re still in his shirt since he insisted you keep it on—something about you looking like you belong to him while he fucked you. He fixes it when it twists around your body, then he lays on top of you, slotting himself between your legs.

He looks at you so tenderly, you feel a calmness settle over you—one that stops the flow of your tears. He brushes your hair away from your face and kisses the wetness on your cheeks. 

“Are you ready?” he asks quietly, voice a lot more like the one that belonged to the man who just cuddled you for two hours. You nod. “Words, my love.”

“Yes, Shua,” you whisper. “I’m ready.”

He pushes into you fairly easily now that you’ve already taken him several times tonight. Still, you bite your lip at the sensation, closing your eyes like that will help you come to terms with how otherworldly having Joshua inside you feels. He wastes no time moving in and out of you, the sound of both of your moans, skin slapping skin, and the headboard hitting the wall filling the room.

His rhythm falters a bit when he pushes himself off you just so he can shove the shirt you’re wearing up and over your chest. He groans loudly when he sees your tits bouncing with his every thrust. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he sighs, fitting his hand between you to play with your clit. 

His fingers are less collected this time, messily pressing into you with little finesse, and his thrusts are becoming unfathomably fast and rough. You realize he’s already close, and it pushes you even closer than you were after all the edging.

“Joshua,” you gasp as you feel your walls start to tighten and spasm around him again. He feels it too because he releases a series of moans that have you near screaming. “Joshua, baby!”

He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose and onto you. You catch a few drops with your tongue. He curses as he immediately reaches up and squeezes your cheeks together, forcing your mouth open and spitting into it again before you can understand what he’s doing. 

“Swallow it,” he grunts and you obey. 

“Please,” you beg. “More.” You moan desperately. “I’m going to come… Joshua, I’m—please, one more.”

“Come for me, baby.”

He takes a longer time collecting his saliva and when he obliges, letting you have a piece of him once more, you come as soon as it hits your tongue, nails digging into his biceps so hard, you start to draw blood. He doesn’t care, though, his hips slamming into you mercilessly as he feels your orgasm’s death grip on him. You think you’re shouting but you’re not sure because all you can process are Joshua’s moans and curses and nonsense, and then you feel it.

A warm release inside you, warmer than anything you’ve experienced, and it’s coating every inch of your insides, claiming you and rewarding you and ruining you for every man after, just like Joshua promised he would.

“Fuck!” he chants repeatedly as he rolls his hips the last few times, making sure to pump every last drop of his cum into you. You lock your ankles together behind him, keeping him there so nothing spills out. He seems to be on the same page, though, collapsing onto you with zero plan of removing himself. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Fuck.”

He lays there for a long time, his cock already soft inside you, but you don’t dare move or say anything. It’s just a matter of time before you’ll have to leave—before he’ll have to leave—and you’re more than content with just laying here for as long as he’ll let you.

When he finally does show signs of life, he still doesn’t pull out, instead choosing to kiss you slowly and delicately, his tongue lazily tangling with yours until he smiles into your lips.

“What?” you ask, smiling back. 

He leans back and looks at you. “I’m just glad you came over tonight.”

“Me too.”

“Maybe I should cancel my world tour,” he jokes.

You laugh and the sound of it makes him join in too. “Pussy so good, it makes you cancel a world tour.”

“Pussy so good, it makes me cancel a world tour, buy a home in the Maldives, and become your house husband.”

You laugh even harder. You try not to think too hard about his words because in just three days (assuming he doesn’t extend his stay again), he’ll have to leave and continue being everyone’s favorite pop star, and really, you are just happy and grateful to have had these last two, almost three, weeks with him. So you entertain the joke, and you two paint a picture of what life would look like if he weren’t a singer or you weren’t a VIP concierge set on running her own boutique hotel one day, and you try not to get attached to any of it.

When you fall asleep, right there in his bed, you dream of the man laying next to you. You dream of Joshua and are too deep in it—too lost in him—to stir awake when he untangles himself from you, unblocks his manager’s phone number, and texts him to tell him he’s staying on this island indefinitely, just to block him again.

He sleeps better than he has in his entire life that night.

[heldbybarnes]

🫧 here, what if bucky and reader tried to keep their relationship a secret—but failed miserably. every time they sneak off, someone’s watching. “you think we didn’t know?? you literally call her ‘doll’ in the middle of meetings.”

this is sooooo juicy...the idea of bucky and reader thinking they're being slick when the whole compound knows their game. LOVE IT

----------

They really thought they were being subtle.

A glance across the conference table. A pinky brush during mission debriefs. Disappearing down the same hallway “by coincidence.” Sitting just barely too close on the couch during movie nights.

You’d think being two of the most highly trained operatives in the compound would make them better at lying.

But no.

Bucky calls her doll during every single briefing.

“You ready to suit up, doll?”

“Need help with that strap, doll?”

“Careful in the field, doll.”

Every. Damn. Time.

So when they disappear for exactly fourteen minutes after lunch (again), no one is surprised. At all. Not even a little.

Clint times it.

Sam bets Steve ten bucks they’ll emerge from the same broom closet as yesterday.

And when they do, slightly flushed and definitely trying to act normal, Natasha deadpans: “Glad you two found the cleaning supplies. The base was running dangerously low on bleach.”

Bucky blinks. You blink. Then you both say, in unison:

“We’re not—”

“—what it looks like—”

Which is funny, because what it looks like is Bucky Barnes adjusting the collar of your sweater while you hastily tuck your shirt back in and avoid eye contact with anyone who’s ever seen a couple before.

“You think we didn’t know?” Sam asks, utterly exasperated, throwing his hands in the air. “You literally call her doll in the middle of meetings. Like, mid-sentence. Steve was talking about a bomb threat and you leaned over like, ‘you want another tea, doll?’”

Bucky shrugs, not even pretending to be sorry. “She likes tea.”

“Oh my god.”

You cover your face with both hands.

Tony starts playing dramatic violin music on his phone.

Natasha, cool as ever, adds, “He also has your contact saved as ‘My Girl 💋’ on the shared comms tablet.”

You whip around. “Bucky—”

“I didn’t know it was synced!”

Sam points a finger between the two of you. “So this thing—this secret relationship—how long has it not been a secret?”

Bucky hesitates. “...Define secret.”

Steve sighs. “Just tell us.”

There’s a long, loaded pause.

Then Bucky murmurs, “Eight months.”

Sam chokes. “EIGHT?!”

“Why are you yelling—”

“EIGHT MONTHS?!” Clint echoes. “You mean to tell me you’ve been sneaking off for nearly a YEAR and acting like we don’t have ears and eyes and common sense?”

Tony pulls out his phone again. “Hold on, I’ve got security cam footage of the time they both ‘accidentally’ ended up in the gym showers. Roll the tape—”

“Nope!” you shout. “Nope, that’s not necessary.”

Bucky looks like he’s either about to tackle Tony or throw himself into the wall.

Steve folds his arms. “You’re terrible spies.”

“You’re literally supposed to be assassins,” Nat adds helpfully.

“To be fair,” Bucky mumbles, “we never lied.”

“No,” Sam agrees, “you just disappeared every day like clockwork, made goo-goo eyes at each other over oatmeal, and thought we were the idiots.”

Clint raises a brow. “So are you dating or just extremely codependent?”

Bucky opens his mouth, then closes it again.

You sigh and finally admit, “Yeah. We’re dating.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Steve, very softly, goes: “About time.”

You blink. “Wait. You’re not mad?”

Steve smiles. “You make him happy. That’s all I care about.”

Tony adds, “You’re an adult. You can date whoever you want. Except Barnes, but I guess it’s too late for that.”

Clint grins. “He better not break your heart. I have poison nails.”

Nat hands you a cupcake from seemingly nowhere. “We saved you one. Celebratory. It’s chocolate.”

And just like that, the teasing fades into warmth. Because they’re the Avengers. They roast you alive and then hug you afterward.

Bucky slips his fingers through yours beneath the table.

He leans over, whispering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Told you we should’ve told them.”

You glance at him. “You were the one dragging me into closets.”

“And you never said no.”

Sam groans. “Please stop flirting in front of my salad.”

Later that night, when you walk into the lounge holding hands like it’s totally normal, no one says a word.

Except for Clint, who raises his phone and announces, “Smile! I’m soft-launching your relationship on my story. Caption is ‘two idiots in love 💕.’”

You roll your eyes.

Bucky just kisses your temple.

And for the first time in eight months, you don’t have to hide it.

You don’t need to pretend you’re just friends.

You don’t need to sneak off or act casual or lie.

You can just... be.

And honestly?

That’s better than any secret.

[kyuteflesh]

Hey hey I saw your post and i guess that gives me permission to share my thoughts. Can you write reader turning on the squid game boys (seperately or not, your choice) and they can't do anything about it since they're in public then it turns out reader was doing it on purpose?

VARIOUS SQUID GAME BOYS / GN!READER

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𐙚⋆˚✿˖°

hiii anon!! i had a better message written but i accidentally cut it last second.. too late to go back now. i hope this is up to your expectations! if you guys want any others characters lmk! rqs are always open, just be sure to be specific. anywho, enjoy :D

ps sorry for working so slow! i’ve been out of it lately, super exhausted. i tried to make this as gender neutral as possible so everybody can read! i hope the tiredness didn’t shine through too much towards the end.. PLEASEE LIKE & REBLOG SO OTHERS CAN SEE MY WORK THANK U（╹◡╹）

⚠️: suggestive content, mdni, 1 mention of “daddy” w/ thanos ..

KANG DAEHO :

this one is less explicit than the rest!! sorry! i will make it up in another post w/ him :3

- you and daeho were spending time at the mall shopping

- he didn’t mind at all !! it was his favorite activity honestly

- he gets to watch you try on cute outfits & see the smile on your face whenever he pays for u :D it’s a treat for either side

- this time things got interesting to say the least ..

- you were in the middle of trying on different pairs of bottoms and wanted his judgement on which to get.

- you opened the dressing room door just enough to reveal your face. “daeho, could you please come in here? i need you.”

- “of course, my love!” he was always eager to help you no matter what it was. he’s the sweetest <3

- “which one should i get? i can’t decide..” you skimmed through the hangers, picking out a pair of shorts you knew weren’t going to go up all the way

- you turned your back to daeho and faced the mirror. putting your legs through, you pulled them up as far as they could go until your thighs got in the way

- “ugh, seriously? i swore these would’ve fit,” you scoffed, angling your backside in a way that would show off your ass.

- you could see daeho getting redder by the second. he couldn’t tell if he should avert his eyes or continue to approve of what he saw? either way, he wasn’t gonna protest

- you noticed the arousal growing in him. “what’s wrong? you don’t like them?” you gave a fake pout, turning back to face him

- “o-of course not, y/n! you will always be the most beautiful girl in the world to me. i wouldn’t trade you for anything,” daeho reassured you before pulling you in for a hug

- “where’s my kiss?:((” *mwah*

••••• @ home

- “cooking me dinner? you feeling fancy or what?” you joked, poking his side

- “what’s wrong with cooking for my sexy partner? i would like to keep what we have, ya know,” he responded while rolling his eyes

- “..and besides, i can’t help it, you looked so good earlier. i don’t mean to be disrespectful but god, your ass is amazing,” daeho whispered into your ear as you melted into the palm of his hand

- “you’re a perv,” you teased.

- “HEY YOU STARTED IT!”

-“so my plan worked! >:)”

- “why don’t we take this somewhere we’ll have more room?” he suggested, carrying you away to start what wouldn’t be finished for awhile. hehe

PARK MINSU :

- minsu wanted you to keep him company while he studied. you thought the library would be great for you guys to get out and enjoy the afternoon

- minsu had an upcoming test for uni that he wanted to pass. he was a smart cookie, you knew that. you were sure he wouldn’t have too much trouble figuring it out by himself.. but you wanted to give him a challenge of your own ;)

- “y/n, i need help.. do you have any ideas for this?” minsu asked, circling the area of concern with the tip of his eraser

- you giggled, “i can sure try.” you skimmed over the passage and tried to take in as much information as you could. doing so as you traced circles on his hand with your thumb

- minsu is a known FIEND for your physical touch. he loves you more than himself .. only naturally

- you tried your best to sound like you knew what you were talking about but in all honesty, you were too caught up trying to get him turned on as discreetly as possible

- a fun little game if you must

- you did just that, softly rubbing your foot on his crotch. enough for him to feel it but not enough to be noticed. to make it better, nobody was really around to care

- “y/n, p-please.. you can’t do this here.” his voice was lower and shakier. signaling your antics were working

- “do what exactly? i thought you wanted my help?” you liked the desperation in his voice when you teased him

- “i do.. but you’re gonna give me another problem to deal with. right here too?” minsu said as he gulped.

- “what do you mean?”

- he glanced down. “come on, stop this– you know what i’m talking about.”

- you released him from your touch and focused your attention back to the book in your hands.

- “suit yourself.” (no pun intended) (only highly intelligent people will understand)

•••• @ home

- minsu completed his test earlier on his personal laptop. he was anxiously awaiting his score at the edge of your bed

- “68%? how did i do this bad?” he scoffed, laying back in frustration.

- “what’s wrong babe?” you questioned, beginning to run your fingers through his hair

- “i failed,” he groaned. he buried his head in your lap. your comfort is all he wanted in this moment

- “im sorry, baby. i wish i could be more help,” you took his hand into yours.

- he looked away, “it’s not your fault at all! i mean.. in a sense? but, i should’ve paid more attention.”

- “in a sense?”

- “no no not like that don’t take what i said the wrong way please. i just meant.. you got me so riled up earlier- you could start helping by me there! i- i don’t know-“ minsu laughed nervously.

- “it wasn’t my intention to get you to fail,” you said. “i can’t control myself around you minsu. im sorry, and i want to help satisfy you.“

- “what do you mean,” minsu asked.

- “well i may or may not have wanted to get your attention,” you grinned sheepishly. you began to unbuckle his pants, pulling his dick out and giving the tip small kitten licks. you watched as minsu threw his head back in ecstasy. it was so easy to please him

- “fuck, maybe this is worth the F.”

NAMGYU :

- being a bartender was an interesting field of choice. namgyu got to see shit faced people making a fool of themselves, bar fights, gossip, drugs. a favorite of his. but nothing would compare to his all time favorite find; you.

- his whole entire world

- tonight you came into his work and ordered your usual. “what’s a fine piece of ass like you doing in a place like this?” you whistled to him jokingly.

- “his exprrssion would say he was embarrassed and he definitely did not know you— but you knew he liked your silly comments

- “$13.72. but for you, i’ll just need that number, baby doll.” namgyu winked. (i like to think he jokingly flirts like a middle aged man) (do you guys hate me)

- “yoi slide him a $20. “keep the change.”

- “no but seriously, what’s up, babe? i’ve missed you tonight,” namgyu questioned you as he wiped down the counter.

- “that’s exactly why i’m here. i’ve missed you too.” you went on, “you know.. i got this new pair of underwear.. it’s lace,” you whispered to him, “but i don’t think i like it that much.”

- namgyus expression turned blank. “i’m sorry?”

- you crossed your legs “i don’t know. feel like it makes my butt look too big.”

- “and that’s bad how exactly?”

- “i don’t know. i don’t like the way it rides up my ass.”

- namgyu could only picture it now

- why did you have to stir such thoughts while he was working?

••• in the car

- you had gone to pick him up later that night. namgyu couldn’t get the picture out of his head the rest of his shift.

- “i couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed. he was feeling you up, beginning to work his way to your crotch

- he’s impulsive .. and curious.. he turned on his flash to take a quick peek of what you had on underneath

- to his surprise, you had on the underwear you previously mentioned

- “this is what you were talking about? all i see is perfection.”

- “really?:3”

- “y/n, i feel like this was planned.”

- …

- “so it was?”

- “you’re definitely getting it.”

- let’s just say he did not hold back once you got back home.

CHOI SUBONG (THANOS) :

- your boyfriend was a notorious party animal. you guys were currently attending a bash for his latest drop

- you were wearing an outfit that hugged your curves just right. his favorite

- you were sitting down on one of many chairs. just trying to get your mind off of everything going on in life

- “your majesty, sitting down still?” thanos took a seat next to you, snaking his arm around your waist

- “we’ve already been to 6 parties in the past week. i’ve had my fair share,” you snorted

- “you wanna dance? i can’t have my baby feeling left out. relax” subong insisted. he grabbed you by the arm and tugged you along to where a group of people were

- you guys joined the bunch. losing yourself to what was playing on the speakers

- you made it a statement to continue brushing against his cock, but keept an innocent act

- “listen to me, if you keep that up you’re gonna have to be ready for the night of your life.”

- “what? you know i’m bad at dancing.” you shrugged, continuing on.

- he pulled you in closer, feeling his hard on.“either way you certainly have my attention. especially with what you’re wearing.. you’re lucky i don’t just take you now.”

•••• @ home

“don’t think i haven’t forgotten about earlier.”

“oh trust me, i’m ready.” you got on the bed, sprawled out on all fours

- “you’re such a brat. it’s time for you to be punished,” subong growled, giving you a light smack to the face.

- “mmm, i promise can take it, daddy,” you moaned as you stuffed your face into the mattress.

- “that’s right, baby. don’t be shy to make a mess on it.”

LEE MYUNGGI :

- myunggi wanted to take you out. he bought you your favorite food. you guys had gone to a park to eat.

- you were sitting on his lap, peacefully enjoying your meal.

- your mind began to wander. you were desperate for him. you started to slowly grind down.

- “thanks, this food is super good, ya know!”you said, munching away .

- myunggi began to sweat. “of course, y/n, but..”

- “maybe we should try walking by the pond later? i noticed there was koi,” you continued on, still moving your hips.

- “you know what you’re doing.” he grabbed you to steady your pace.

- “i’m not gonna argue, but just know im not gonna let up later on.”

- you smirked. “can’t hear you. and i definitely don’t know what you’re talking about”

••• @ home

- you were at home, still sitting on his lap while he played whatever on his pc.

- “what’s wrong, babe? you’ve hardly spoken to me,” you complained, frowning.

- “you know exactly what i’ve been thinking about,” myunggi tsked.

- “what might that be?” you asked, grinding down as you had before

- “that!!” he yelped in pleasure.

- he started to rub on you. he slipped his hand down into your warmth, working his hard cock into your clothed ass.

- “you’re gonna make me feel good? huh?” he panted, using your shoulder for support.

- you nodded as your grip on his desk tightened. myunggi wasn’t gonna let you forget who you belonged to.