#don't let your personal feelings get in the way and really look at the issue im talking about
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CW: pedo mention, suicide
I have a request. And this may get me blocked or hated even more by the AF community:
Can we stop the aminosity towards A/H shippers? Anti culture is celebrated in our fandom now, and like, cool if you don't ship anyone, but many of you on this platform find a way to literally bully or harass fans who are openly A/H. I also used to get endless inboxes of anon hate and harassment, even so far as telling me to 'KYS', or calling me a pedophile.
Let's make something very fucking clear: Redirect your issues to Colfer instead, because he wrote the 6th book. HE wrote the kiss. HE wrote them having feelings for eachother. Yes, as kids, a lot of us attached to this. Maybe it's from shared trauma, maybe it's a comfort place. Whatever someone's reason is for shipping, they DON'T need to explain themselves, or be made guilty for their preferences! Instead of harassing A/H shippers as if we spun the oldest celebrated ship from midair, how about you complain about damn Colfer?! He's not a poor innocent Irishman that had nothing to do with it. Give me a break.
Now, your hate and despise of the ship DOES affect other people when you go into the Hartemis tag and write on shippers' posts, literally heckling and harassing them. You know who you all are. I haven't checked it recently, but around 7 months ago, it was filled with HATE. HATE. AND HATE. I saw one very celebrated user telling Hartemis shippers to kill themselves. Honestly. If you look folks, it's there. Fuck that. If being an anti means you support hate and harassment, get the fuck off my tumblr lol.
I have had so many, SO many people come to me in messages to discuss A/H. I have had younger fans, literal kids, message me with art and explain they didn't feel safe posting it to tumblr because of the antis and hatred of A/H. ARE. YOU. KIDDING. ME. Do you know how angry this makes me? This is disgusting behavior, that children can't post their work without an anti yelling at them they're supporting pedophilia.
Which do you think is more harmful?! Supporting A/H? Or isolating young teens or kids and making their work and art feel worthless and unwanted?
Btw: none of the A/H shippers call our ship Hartemis. That's a you guys thing, lol. We like A/H. They don't need a ship name so it's easier to mock.
In short, leave people alone. Stop intermingling your personal issues into other's lives. Don't like Hartemis? Leave the fandom then! You tell us to gtfo, so you can as well! 😬 I really dont have anything inspirational or nice to say here. I'm disappointed that such a tiny fandom has been literally split apart in half, and half of them are not allowed to interact with the other.
We're so tiny, guys. We literally don't have to isolate each other. I was so depressed when I first joined tumblr and got so much hate, and to know there are kids who are messaging me, revealing they're getting hate? That they're scared to post? To rant and rave and ramble like the rest of us? It's disappointing. It really is.
CW: pedo mention, suicide
#don't let your personal feelings get in the way and really look at the issue im talking about#my DMs shouldnt be a safe space#OUR FOWLDOM should be a safe space#thats all.#fowldom#hartemis#hate that name but whatever we need the tag#artemis fowl
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ㄴ CHERRY🍒 ㄱ : Lee Heeseung
pairing : pervert!heeseung x virgin!reader
cheeries to pop this semester : Y/N (Heeseung's pick)
Warnings : toxic heeseung, manipulation, coercion, morally gray characters, dub con, infidelity, angst, filthy smut, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, body image issues, body shaming, family issues (it gets heavy), unprotected sex, cum eating, violence, dacryphilia.
Wc : 23k+
a/n : IT'S FINALLY HERE OMG, this is my first full length fic on here and I really put my all into it, please reblog and leave feedbacks, it's really really important for me, I cherish all of your words so much<3
!!!!!!! READ PREVIEW FIRST !!!!!!!!
You're quite literally the most stuck up thing Heeseung has ever laid his eyes on. It’s the way you stick out like a sore thumb; Your ponytail is meticulously braided, the grandma skirt that you chose to wear cascades down, stopping just beneath your knees in a habitual fashion and your pressed pink silk blouse is impeccably buttoned up to the collar, not one inch of extra skin in sight.
The book clutched tightly against your chest ties your entire look of “austere sophistication” together.
"Microprocessors", the title reads. Pfft. Typical of you. Only you can clutch onto such a demonic book like it is some quality literature. Heeseung nearly fights the urge to scoff.
You're peak virgin demonstration if Heeseung’s ever seen one. Your embodiment of purity is unparalleled, and it feels like a personal attack on his masculinity that he hasn't been able to get you under him yet. Keyword : yet.
As he backs you up against the wall, your eyes downcast and your free hand nervously fiddling with the button of your blouse, he thinks you look pathetic. You exude an air of pitiful vulnerability, and it ignites a primal desire within him to consume you entirely.
You're nervous and it’s palpable. He can see it in the way you don't even meet his eyes, refusing to face him at all. The blush adorning the apple of your cheeks is adorable; fuck, you're cute. And Heeseung doesn't like cute things. But something about you makes you the exception to his usual preferences. Your innocence only provokes him more, acting as a catalyst, intensifying his desire to unleash all his darkest fantasies on your inexperienced body. He wants to explore you, peel off your layers and dive in deep like no one has ever done before. This need, this innate urge to taint you; it drives him absolutely feral.
"Did you watch the video I sent you last night?" he asks, unable to stop himself from leaning into your space, taking a deep whiff of your vanilla perfume. You even smell like a virgin. Fresh and untainted. And, oh so tempting.
Your head shakes meekly, but the discreet way you bite your lower lip tells him that you did watch it. Fuck yeah. He was high and horny when he recorded that nut video. Pressing send wasn’t on his agenda but his head was filled with the sinful thoughts of you and your pretty pink lips, and what better way to testify his desire to you than making you see how he looks in throes of pleasure, chanting your name like a literal dog in heat.
You yelp when his hand grabs your waist to pull you closer to himself. God, you feel good against him.
He nuzzles his nose into your warm cheek while your tiny fist makes contact with his chest "let-let go" you squeak out and it only makes him chuckle in amusement. You're so fucking cute.
"you liked it baby? Bet you liked how I stroked my dick nice and slow, just for you" He watches in glee as the red in your cheeks spreads all the way down to your neck. He loves how responsive you are, loves how even the littlest of words make you falter in front of him, like a frail flower caught in a sudden gust of wind. Then you look up, and Heeseung feels his breath leaving his chest, as if the air has been vacuumed from his lungs .Your big, captivating eyes meet his dark ones and he can't help but let his perverse curiosity take over his sick mind. He wonders how your pretty orbs look when you cry.
Scratch that. He wants to see you cry.
What makes this thought more unsettling is that fact that Heeseung isn't apposed to seeing you cry in pain. As long he gets to see your eyes brimming with tears , he cannot give less of a fuck about their source. He'll fuck you missionary, Heeseung decides, staring deep into your eyes while he slides deep inside your tight little pussy. His cock chubs up at the thought alone.
"you c-can''t send me stuff like that, it's inappropriate" you mumble shyly. He snickers and squeezes the fat of your waist, making another pathetic squeak to leave your mouth.
"What can I do darling, there's not one appropriate thought in my head when it comes to you. wanna do so many inappropriate things to you, you’ll let me won’t you?" He whisper asks, and watches how your eyes struggle to maintain eye contact before you succumb to your shyness, choosing to look down instead.
"Heeseung, man, it’s time to go " Jake's panicked voice interrupts the filthy words he was about to mutter in your ears again. He turns his head slightly towards the entrance of the hall and sees Jake's brown mop of hair, rustling right outside. Heeseung sighs and turns back to face you.
"Looks like we'll have to cut our fun short, you'll wait for my call tonight won't you baby? wanna hear your voice when I cum" He tells you, reveling in the way you only curl into yourself at his words, chewing your bottom lip raw. Fuck he wants to kiss the fuck out of you. But he can't. Not yet. Heeseung is aware of the boundaries he’s been crossing by touching you and sending you intimate stuff without your consent, and he doesn't want to push it, not so fast.He lets go of your body reluctantly and winks at you before making his way out of the hall. Jake's frantic eyes meet his once he's outside, and he rolls his eyes, already sensing an incoming lecture about morals and respect.
"I'm never gonna be your guard dog again, it's risky fucking business" Jake spits,brows furrowed in distress. Heeseung merely shakes his head at him "you won't get it" he mumbles as he walks ahead, leaving Jake to run to catch up to him
"Yeah, I don't see the fun in being suspended, but hey, maybe that's just me" Jake replies sarcastically ,making Heeseung give him “the” look. "Dramatic much?" He asks, rounding the corner to the cafeteria and making his way inside.
"I'm being dramatic? You're the one risking your reputation for some pussy, we can both be in jail for sexual harassment". Heeseung tunes out his friend's baseless rant and plops onto his designated seat. Jake slumps down right next to him.
"Man I'm just saying, that if she ever decides to go to the dean about this, your messages will be proof enough to land you in big trouble" Jake explains. “and me too because you drag me into every unethical thing like the good friend that you are” he adds, sarcasm dripping from his tone, and Heeseung wonders when Jake fell victim to the sassy men apocalypse.
But you won't, you love the chase as much as he does, he can see it in your eyes, Heeseung wants to say, but he doesn’t, choosing to stare at you instead. His eyes trace the movement of your figure when you enter the cafeteria sometime later. You're still hugging the book to your chest, making your way to the seat that's the farthest away from everyone else, as always. Your skirt makes his hands itch, he wants to know what lies underneath so fucking badly. He wonders if you know the effect that your modesty has on him, wonders if you know that your body being covered from head to toe gives more space for fantasy and yearning than any naked girl ever could.
"Stare any longer and your eyeballs might fall out of their sockets" Sunghoon’s berating voice brings his attention back to the table. He was so lost in you that he didn't notice sunghoon flopping down in the seat right across from him, shrugging his jacket off and throwing it unceremoniously on the table.
"She's gonna be the death of me" Heeseung bemoans, running an exasperated hand over his face. Sunghoon laughs and kicks his leg under the table.
"She already saw her name in that list that day, she knows what you want, and I don't think she'll let you anywhere near her anytime soon". Jake snorts, masking it with a cough when Heeseung shoots a glare in his direction.
He looks over at you again, finding the way you fiddle with your pen oddly erotic. He thinks he might be losing his goddamn mind, because the way he jerked off right after you angrily threw the “cherries to pop this semester” list on his face and stormed off , was shameful to say the least. That was the first time he had seen pure heat and raw emotion in your eyes, and damn you looked sexy as hell when you were angry.
"She won't be a virgin by the end of this semester, write it down" Heeseung challenges, meeting Sunghoon's eyes. His friend only shrugs in response and turns around to look at you over his shoulder.
"Sure, but by the looks of it, you won't be the one doing the honors" Jake snorts again , but Heeseung doesn't spare him a glance this time, his entire attention pivoted to the raven haired boy making his way over to your table. Heeseung doesn't like the way your eyes light up and you instantly sit up straighter in your seat, fixing your hair as if looking to impress. He scoffs. Loudly. Fucking park jongseong.
"Does she really find that dweeb attractive?" He can't help but ask, jaw clenching when he sees you blushing, genuinely blushing and smiling at someone who's not him.
"I dunno man, girls love that whole nerdy gentleman thing jay's got going on, some bullshit about being a green flag and all" Sunghoon supplies.
"They're friends too, lover boy's got game" Jake adds, smiling cheekily when Heeseung shoots him a dark look, yet again.
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You're in a trance like state when you walk back home. With the whole hall incident with Heeseung, and jay approaching you at lunch, today doesn’t seem real, as if belonging to a different reality altogether.
What you feel for Heeseung isn't something that you can describe in words. He.. He harasses you. He touches you and grabs you and gropes you, but within limits. His actions lie in a murky territory, perplexing the norms of acceptability, and yet, you only yearn more. does that make sense? Maybe it doesn't to normal people, but in your touch starved brain, it perfectly makes sense. Some days you hate him and some days you crave him, always oscillating between the extremes of loathing and longing. You suppose that's because he's been the only source of thrill amidst the barren landscape of your existence for a very long time. He excites you, he flusters you, but ignites flames beneath your breastbone with mere words. His gaze unnerves you and yet, you can't bring yourself to push him away. Some would call you crazy, and you won't have any convincing arguments to defend yourself.
You have been a little desperate all your life, desperate for someone to want you, desperate for someone to see you, a ceaseless yearning for recognition, for acknowledgement of your existence and you're not ashamed to admit it. After all, how far can you lie about the very thing etched into your bones and skin? And to what end?
More, more, more, the intense craving, an insatiable hunger for it defined your very being. You were an unattractive child and grew up into an even more unappealing adult , at least that's what your mother used to tell you before she eventually passed away. Her echoes of criticism resonated through your subconscious, shaping you as a mirror of her own insecurities.
That would explain why you can't meet your own eyes in the mirror, and crave attention like a drug, seeking solace in the fleeting attention Heeseung bestows upon you. He's akin to a drug that leaves you high and delusional for a while, intoxicating you with fleeting moments of desirability.
You aren't stupid though, you harbor no illusions regarding his intentions . You know what he wants from you, you are aware that you as a person don't mean a thing to him, he just wants to take your virginity and flaunt it around like a badge of peak male prowess or something, you're just another challenge to him, reduced to a mere conquest for his vanity. But you haven't felt like a person in so long, you don't think you are in any position to make demands.
When you've been parched long enough, when the thirst reaches fever pitch, threatening to push you over the verge of insanity; the yearning for satisfaction eclipses the rationality of self preservation. The moment of brief satiation held such a twisted appeal, that you were willing to embrace pain and self destruction if it came along with a fleeting sense of fulfillment. The need for validation clouds your judgement, and you become nothing but a mindless puppet of your desires.
That might also explain why your crush on park jongseong is still alive after being brutally rejected in the first semester. Jay and you had developed a friendship really quickly at the very beginning of college, but both of you had never really talked outside of the university hackathons and coding competitions. His knowledge was what drew you to him, and the way he was able to come up with solutions to the most complex problems while you were fighting for your life, it just left you with no choice but to watch him with heart eyes. He was always polite to you too, and what were you if not a sucker for gentle and soft spoken men.
He stopped talking to you after you confessed though, not completely because you still had to work on projects together, but conversations became more one sided and short, and so eventually, you just grew apart.
But ever since you got grouped together for the Cp techathon, he has started acting different; there’s so many lingering touches and subtle flirty glances that sometimes you’re sure you’re imagining everything in your head. Maybe you should get checked out for maladaptive daydreaming. Just a suggestion.
You're pulled out of your thoughts when you reach the curb of your house and don't see your dad's car parked inside. You breathe out a sigh of relief at the sight and proceed to make your way to your neighbor’s house. Suzy, your 60 year old neighbor, might be the only good thing going on for you. As you ring her door bell, you can't help but feel excited at the prospect of seeing your brother after an entirety of 2 whole weeks. Pitter patter of slippers approaches the door , and Suzy's wrinkled face greets you with a warm smile, as if she was already expecting you.
"Hi" you smile, and she motions behind her, at the loud chatter of your brother.
"Jihoon has not stopped asking for you for a second" She says , and you can't help but laugh as you make your way inside.
The four year old stops talking to his toys as soon as he sees you, his blue orbs staring at you for a whole minute in amazement, and then , as if snapping out of a trance, he sprints towards you at the speed of lightening. "Y/n! " he squeals.
You giggle when he tackles you with a hug, sighing in contentment at finally feeling him so close. You're hit with a sudden urge to cry, feeling his tiny arms wrap around your neck, being away from him never gets easy no matter how many times you have done it. You coo as he tells you how much he missed you, burying his tiny frame further into your chest. You press several kisses to his face and tell him you missed him just as much.
"Will you be taking him home today?" Suzy asks, coming over to sit down on the couch in front of you. You caress the back of jihoon's head, rocking him back and forth in your embrace, and meet her eyes, nodding a little. "Dad won't be home for a few weeks, hopefully, his car isn't there" you tell her. She nods in understanding and pats your arm, letting you know with her eyes, that she'll be here if you need her.
You're grateful for her, she's the only person you can entrust your little brother with when things start to get bad at home. On the days your dad decides to get shit faced and break everything in the house, succumbing to bouts of inebriation, you're grateful that you can keep jihoon away from the violence. You honestly don't know what you would do without Suzy, the only steadfast refuge from the chaos that is your life. In some way, you are aware that having jihoon over alleviates her loneliness too, fulfilling her own needs of companionship that she deeply craves in her old age.
Occasionally, you're hit with a wave of inevitable jealousy at jihoon’s sheltered innocence, wishing that someone had kept you away too; from the violence and the pain. But you guess you were meant to be the protector instead of the protected, healing your inner child every time you see jihoon smiling brighter than the sun. If you had to live through all the suffering again , just to preserve and shelter his infectious smile, you would do it in a heartbeat.
Suzy hands you a box of home made food when you make your way outside. "I promise to be back for you in a few hours sweetie, you will behave right?" you coo at jihoon's snotty, red nose as he clings onto your leg, begging you to take him with you. You sigh and watch in helplessness as Suzy picks him up in her arms, shushing him down so you can leave. It never gets easier.
Returning home, you dodge the broken pieces of glass and frames, quickly get out of your college attire, throwing on a pair of worn out jeans and a discolored top. There's still an hour for you to be at your part time job , and so you start cleaning the house instead. You don't know why you bother, to be honest, but there's an innate need that craves normalcy. When the house is clean, that means everything is going to be okay. Cleaning serves as a ritual of order amidst chaos, offering a sense of control amidst uncertainty.
Your shift at the cafe ends in a daze, countless customers come in and go out, some rude, some decent but you have learnt to take everything in a stride now. First month you had started working this job, you were a crying mess after the end of almost every shift, your sensitive little heart unable to comprehend why people were so rude. However, just like everything else in your life, you adapted to the demands of the job pretty quickly. As you stare at the now almost deserted cafe, save for a handful of students engrossed in their laptops, you pray that no one else comes in. Fatigue weighs heavily upon you, you’re exhausted out of your mind and just want to get out of here as soon as you can. Yet, as the familiar chime of the entrance bell resounds, signaling the arrival of yet another customer, you resign yourself to another interaction.
Your head snaps towards the door and your jaw quite literally falls to the floor. For as long as you have worked here, you've never run into any of your classmates. However, today out of all days, when you look like the wall mart version of the walking dead, park fucking jongseong is here. Because of course he is, your life has to be a social experiment.
You pull yourself together when you realize that he's smiling at you, and you aren't smiling back. "Hi" you squeak out, fairly sure that you sounded pathetic. He grins at your flustered state, and leans closer to you on the counter.
"Hi" He whispers back, your heart beating faster at the look he's giving you. You stare at his perfectly parted raven hairs and mentally pass out when he fiddles with his lip ring.
"Um-so- what can i get you?" You stutter out, finally coming to your senses and realizing that you have a job. His eyes travel down to your chest , and he leans further into your personal space, his expensive cologne filling up your senses.
"I'll take you" He replies smoothly.
"I-, what-you huh" you splutter, not quite trusting your own ears. There's no way Jay is flirting with you right now. The crush that you've harbored for the boy blooms in full glory as he continues to smile at you, a suggestive glint in his eyes. His smile is so damn pretty.
"I'm kidding pretty girl, I just saw you from across the street and thought I'd say hi, and ask if you need a ride back home" He explains. Your lips tug into a shy smile at the nickname, and you peek outside to see his gray Volkswagen parked across the street. Oh wow, Jay thinks you're pretty AND he wants to give you a ride back home. Why does that sound so familiar? You’re pretty sure you saw this same scenario playing out in one of your lovesick dreams last week.
"Oh-um- i don't wanna cause you any trouble" you mumble , hoping that he doesn't see the way your back is ramrod straight all of a sudden. You never really prepared yourself for the possibility of him , or anyone for that matter, wanting to drop you at your house. You're not ashamed of your neighborhood or the life that you live, but you despise the looks of judgement and pity more. You have managed to maintain this facade of a properly put together person for so long in college, and it has saved you so much mental torture that you know would ensue once everyone gets to know about your humble abode, and how your scholarship is the only reason you’re able to afford your college.
"come on sweetheart, would I really walk all the way across the street if I really didn't wanna see you?" He asks, fiddling with his lip ring again. If you didn't know any better, you would say he looks sort of nervous. But why would anyone be nervous of you. Of all people.
You nod meekly and mumble a quick "my shift gets over in 5 minutes", trying to wrap your head around the fact that Jay wanted to see you. HE wanted to see YOU. Jay winks at you and makes his way outside. You follow him with your eyes as he crosses the street and goes back inside his car, waiting for you.
HE'S WAITING FOR YOU. What on god’s green earth.
Seeing that there's only one customer left, you hurriedly make your way to the ladies toilet and wash your face, trying to get rid of the tiredness and grime off of it. What if he kisses you? Your own delusion makes you laugh. You do have some nerve at coming up with such insane scenarios in your head. He's just being nice, and here you are, hearing wedding bells.
You reapply your lip balm and take off the apron you were adorning over your tee. You look okay. Well. There's not much you can do in the current situation anyway. You do hope that he overlooks how unkempt you look compared to your college appearance. Should you untie your hairs? But, wouldn't that be too much? He just saw you with a ponytail... fuck it, it's like a once in a lifetime opportunity anyway. You untie your hairs and let them fall in cascades over your shoulders. This is better.
You clean up behind you and inform the remaining customer that it's closing time. Handing the keys to Ralph, the security guard, you quickly run across the street, not wanting to make him wait any longer. Jay opens the car door for you from the inside even before you can reach it.
"Hop in" He says, a grin in his voice and he doesn't have to ask you twice.
This might be the most expensive car you've ever had the opportunity to sit in. The leather is soft against your skin, and it smells of fresh citrus. Even his car smells good.
"So, Where to darling?" He asks, running his eyes all over you. You feel a little self conscious under his gaze but manage to utter your address nonetheless.
The entire ride is mostly silent with little conversation that he makes, asking you for directions. It isn't awkward, and you're so grateful for that.
"Is this it?" He asks, stopping his car in front of the building whose name you blurted instead of your real address.
You nod and thank him, ready to get out of the car when he grabs your wrist, pulling you into him. The middle console digs into your stomach but you honestly couldn't care less with the way his hot breath falls on your face.
Your cheeks are warm and you are sure that you represent a tomato with the way the heat only increases when he tucks your hairs behind your ear with his other hand.
And oh god, he's leaning in, his eyes fixed onto your lips as he inches closer and closer and-
As if on autopilot, You push him away. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment at how taken aback he looks by your sudden reaction.
"I-im sorry i- i don't-
"I thought you liked me" He says in a hostile tone, and you can hear the annoyance in his voice, can see the indignation in his eyes.
You can't believe you just pissed off your longtime crush because of your inability to be normal. How could you have fucked up so badly?
"I-i do, I do like you" You mumble quickly, trying to hold your tears at bay when he scoffs at your words. The shame weighs heavy on your chest as he stares at you a bit longer before looking forward towards the road.
"Goodnight y/n" He replies sharply, in the most coldest voice you have ever seen him use towards you.
Your lips quiver as you wrack your brain for something to say but you don't think you can say anything to fix this now. You've made a fool of yourself and embarrassed Jay all because you can't be fucking normal about anything.
He presses the horn aggressively, and you jump, mumbling apologies and scurrying out of his car hurriedly. Your ears burn in humiliation when he drives off without sparing a single glance towards you.
Well done y/n. Your habit of being self sabotaging never really will go away. You cry all the way back to your house, not understanding the abrupt downturn of promising events. It was going so well. He was going to kiss you. You were so close to having your first kiss.
You wipe your tears dry when you get close to your house. Jihoon is fast asleep in Suzy's arms when she hands him over to you. You thank her for her kindness and make your way to your house, cradling jihoon's sleeping form. When he cuddles into your neck, his innocent embrace evokes a flood of pent up tears; all that you've been pushing back today, comes flooding out. You can't help but wonder if you'll ever be able to sleep this carefree in someone's arms. If there's love meant for you,then you have never felt it once in your life, and you wonder if it's too late now.
You're crying when you tuck him tenderly into bed, crying when you leave a wet kiss on his forehead, caressing his soft cheeks. You're crying when you try to eat the food Suzy gave you in the afternoon, and you're crying when you rub off all the evidence of today from your body inside the shower. At one point, you aren’t even sure what you’re crying about.
Thankfully, when you come out of the shower, the tears have ceased. You embrace the numbness which spreads all over your body after a soul crushing sob session. It’s funny really, how quickly you seem to turn your emotions on and off like a flip switch, like they aren’t even real at all.
Once your emotions are out of the way, and jihoon is asleep, you can't help but relish in the feeling of your skin under your fingertips. You aren't particularly horny, you just want to feel better and sleep with an empty mind. Masturbation always seems to work.
You throw off your towel and crawl onto the bed, spreading your legs and rubbing small circles on your clit, trying to get yourself wet. You rub and rub, and whine when it starts to feel somewhat good. Still, it isn't good enough to get you soaked thoroughly, so that you can cum again and again to your heart's content.
You groan frustratedly and reach for your phone, feeling extremely ashamed when your finger hovers over heeseung's chats. Your pussy tingles in excitement when you read his lewd words, attached to the video he sent you yesterday.
"Gonna fuck you so good if you give me a chance baby, look how hard you make this dick"
You bite your lower lip and press play, rubbing your thighs together at the wet sounds coming from the video. His dick is so thick and girthy, curving upwards in excitement. His fingers look so long wrapped around his cock, you can’t help but squeeze your thighs at the thought of feeling them inside of you.
The way he moves his palm, up and down, up and down, moaning and groaning your name in pleasure, it has you writhing in no time. You will never admit it to heeseung, but he's the only person you ever think of while touching yourself. He turns you on beyond belief. He turns you on in a way that feels wrong. Almost Taboo.
You continue to rub your clit to the sight of him jerking off, hoping that you could see his face in the video too. You wonder what he looks like when he's feeling good. The thought alone is enough to have you dripping in no time. You throw your phone onto the bed, but before you can start fingering your leaking pussy, your phone rings, making you groan in annoyance.
You reach beside your head to pick it up and almost drop it on your face when you see heeseung's name flashing on your screen.
Fuck. What the fuck.
When he told you in college that he was gonna call, you really didn't think he actually will. But the phone is ringing and your body lights up in excitement. Is he really going to jerk off on call? Is he really that perverse?
Curiosity gets the better of you, and you swipe right, chewing on your lower lip as you press the phone against your ear.
"Hey baby, I didn't think you would pick up, missed me didn't ya? " His cocky voice blares through the speaker and you blush. How was he making you blush over the phone, get a fucking grip y/n.
He chuckles when you don't say anything, finding your silence cute.
"At least say a hi for me baby, so I can know that I'm not about to jerk off for your dad" His words make you wince, why was he so vulgar?
"Heeseung!" You whisper shout, trying to convey through your voice how scandalized you are.
"There she is, fuck pretty, you're gonna stay with me on call while I beat my meat for you yeah?" He grunts and you gasp, feeling violated by his language alone.
You rub your thighs and fiddle with your pebbled nipples "c-can you not use such words? " you ask quietly, hoping that he doesn't pick up on the silent whine that leaves your mouth right after.
You hear a little shuffling on the line and your face feels hot. So he really is getting ready to jerk off? What will he say if you tell him how wet you are for him right now?
Heeseung can't believe you haven't hung up on him yet. His dick getting harder and harder the more that he hears your cute fucking voice.
"Nah baby, I'm a nasty motherfucker, you should know that. If you ever let me fuck your cunt, I'll show you what real nasty sex feels like" He says, groaning when he hears you whimper at his words. Fuck. Why the fuck are you so fucking cute.
He hisses when he wraps his rough palm around his leaking prick, he hasn't even started jerking off yet and he's already leaking so much precum.
Heeseung doesn't like cute things, but fuck does he want to fuck into one, wants to pound your cute little pussy while you make those cute little sounds for him.
His ears perk up when he hears the wet squelching sounds coming through the speaker. Fuck. Fuck are you--?
"baby, are you touching yourself? I can hear your wet little cunt through the phone" He grunts, as if in pain.
The moan that you let out tells him all that he needs to know. And damn he's never been so fucking hard before.
"fuck yeah baby, fuck yourself with your tiny little fingers, make yourself feel real good for me" He groans, stroking his cock at a rapid pace, unable to stop himself from going feral. This is the first time that you have given him the taste of what it really could be like if he was buried in your wet snatch. It's driving him batshit crazy.
"H-heeseung" you mewl, making him fuck into his fist faster. God, you sound so sexy. The heat spreads all over his body, making him feel so damn good that he starts bucking up his hips into his hands.
"Y-yeah? Feels so good yeah , baby? Fuck, I wish It was my cock buried in you right now, I would pound you all fucking night -ugh fuckk" he grunts, panting as he feels the knot in his stomach tighten. He wants to cum so bad.
Your whines reach a fever pitch and the intensity of the wet squelch increases. God, the filthy sounds of your wetness as you play with your pussy, make his tongue loll out of his mouth. He needs to bury his face in your juices before he dies.
"g-gonna c-um im-ah" you moan, whining and panting as your orgasm gets closer.
Heeseung curses under his breath and jerks off furiously, squeezing his engorged dick head and hissing in pure pleasure.
"Oh yeah, cum all over my fucking cock baby, make a fucking mess, I'm gonna give you my cum too" He moans, thrusting up into his fist, again and again and again, chasing his high desperately. His palm is a wet, sticky mess of precum while he strokes his shaft to your whiny voice. You make him so fucking horny, the brutal way he's fisting his dick is a testament to that.
A loud moan on your end makes him cuss, his own eyes rolling back as he hears you cumming. So fucking cute, god you sound heavenly. His hips buck up into his fist a few more times before he's spurting thick strings of his cum all over his chest and palm. He plants his feet onto the bed, and thrusts up into his fist over and over to drain himself of all that he has to give.
Fucking hell, that was probably the best jerk off session of his life. Before he can tell you that, however, you hang up on him.
Heeseung chuckles in exhaustion and doesn't even bother cleaning his body, laying on the bed in pure sexual satiation.
You're so cute.
The events of yesterday hit you hard in the morning. Your eyes are swollen and red because of the crying session you had after masturbation. When the high of the orgasm wore off, everything else came back and it hurt like a bitch.
You can't believe you let heeseung talk you through your orgasm, you can't believe that he made you cum without touching you, and what you can't believe the most is how much you liked it.
Your mind drifts off to Jay, and a sudden shame fills you up again. No matter how hard you try, you're unable to forget the look of disappointment on his face, looking at you with so much annoyance etched onto the creases of his face, it almost reminded you of your mother.
Your gaze goes to the clock and you can't help but heave yourself out of the bed. As much as you'd like to stay and rot in extreme self pity, you don't have the option. Jihoon will be up soon, and you have a limited one hour stretch to make his lunch and get ready for college. You're not ready for the walk of shame to college, but being an academic weapon is your only achievement in life. You wonder what you would be if they take that away from you. Have you ever done anything else? Gone out, made friends? Got drunk at parties, had sleepovers? You haven't, you realize with a throbbing pain at the back of your head. It never was an option for you.
You take a shower and fix a quick breakfast for your brother and yourself, getting ready in your prim and proper attire, reverting back to your put together front.
Waking up jihoon is a work of lost art that you've mastered over the years, and so it's easy work. What isn't easy, however, is to convince him to let you go.
"Why can't you stayy" He whines, tears already filling up his big, brown eyes as he clings to your leg like always.
You kneel down to come face to face with him and quickly wipe his tears away "I'm going to bring back chocolates, you like them right?" you ask, cooing when he nods, his brows still furrowed in defiance.
"Then someone will have to go and bring them right? so be a good boy and let y/n go"
His little brows furrow further and he shakes his head again "suzy can go" He declares, and you can't help but be endeared. All the time that you stay away from him, you'd started to believe that he'll develop more of an attachment with suzy and eventually forget you. But these little things, these are the things that keep you going.
You plant a big kiss on his puffy cheeks and he's back to grinning in no time, giggling as you tackle him in your arms.
"Just a few more hours baby, I'll be back and we'll play together, I promise" you assure the little boy and his eyes shine at your words, "swings! at the park!" He exclaims, as if remembering the most important treasure of his life. You nuzzle his nose with your own and intertwine your pinky with his tiny one in a promise. It's so easy to make him happy, your perfect little baby.
You pepper jihoon with a few more kisses before dropping him off at Suzy's.
Your heart tugs when he starts to cry for you again, but this is your life, you suppose.
You keep your head down the entire way to class, lest you run into Jay and embarrass yourself again. Luckily for you, Jay isn't in his designated seat in the automata class, and you can’t help but breath a sigh of relief.
The relief is tremendously short lived tho, because Lee Heeseung is sprawled on the seat right next to yours in his full glory.
Your cheeks turn red when your eyes meet his cocky ones. He smirks and raises a suggestive brow when you don't make a move to come any closer.
"Do you plan to stand for the entirety of this two hour lecture baby?" He asks, suckling on the pop sickle that he always seems to have somehow. You quickly scan the seats around you, deciding fuck it, and plop onto jay's seat instead. There's no way you will be able to spend two whole hours under Heeseung's lecherous gaze. After last night, you have no idea how to face him. Even on normal days he leaves you extremely flustered and a clumsy mess.
You can feel his gaze burning holes at the back of your head for the entire duration of the lecture. Sometime in the middle of the lesson, a crumpled paper hits the back of your head. You turn around, shooting heeseung an annoyed look. At least you try to look annoyed. The blush is still prominent on your cheekbones so you can only imagine what you look like to him.
He motions his head towards the ball of paper lying near your feet. As much as you want to ignore his shenanigans and focus on the lecture, curiosity always gets the best of you.
You unfold it quickly, tucking it inside your book so that nobody else can catch the words scribbled on it.
"Wait for me in the janitor's closet"
You shoot a defying look towards heeseung and crumple the paper back to land it near his jordans. It's equivalent to you saying "I won't"
Heeseung only grins at you, shooting a wink in your direction, as if to reply
"I know you will"
He has some audacity, you think, as you make your way to the janitor's closet after class. A slave to your desires, you suppose.
A part of you is nervous and ashamed when his 6 feet tall figure enters the limited space of the closet, caging you against the wall. However, the other part of you, the desperate part of you , preens in the attention, almost feeling a sick pride in the fact that you made him cum too. And maybe even harder, if the way he was moaning last night was anything to go by.
His large hands circle your waist , and your breath hitches in your throat when he pulls you closer to himself, his nose touching yours while his hot breaths warm your mouth.
"have sex with me" He says, leaving you speechless, yet again. It's not that he hasn't said those exact same words and even worse things to you before. It's the bluntness that never fails to take you by surprise.
You shake your head, trying to push yourself out of his grasp. He's stubborn tho, and so damn strong, his hold like an iron grip around your body.
"Cmon- he groans in frustration- you can have sex with me on the phone but not in person, how is that fucking fair? "
You whimper when he squeezes the fat of your waist harshly, as if branding your body in his hold. You aren't used to being touched so wantonly, and it makes a sick shiver run down the length of your spine.
"W-we did not have s-sex" you splutter, staring right back into his orbs. His heavy lidded eyes travel down to your lips and he leans in, making you gasp loudly when his pink tongue comes out to taste your lower lip, licking it tentatively. Almost experimental in how he runs it all over your lower plump lip. He pulls away before he can steal your first kiss, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel somewhat disappointed.
"Yes we did have sex. Your tight little pussy came for my fucking cock while you were moaning my name" He supplies cockily, his words sending a wave of heat rushing down between your legs.
He buries his nose in the crook of your neck and presses his body flush into yours, grinding the proof of his desire against your leg.
"Look what you do to me, fuck baby, if you won't let me fuck your cunt, at least take responsibility for your own actions" He grunts into your skin and you can't help the pathetic moan that leaves your mouth.
"H-how" you ask, feeling yourself getting wetter the more that he humps your leg.
Heeseung doesn't reply to you, instead, takes your hand that's clutching his shoulder and presses it against his hard on instead.
"fuck yeahhh" He hisses, apparently craving your touch like a drug.
you're sure your face can't get any redder than this. If it wasn't for his tight hold on your body, your knees would have buckled and given up a while ago. The feeling of a dick underneath your palm is foreign but so arousing, the fact that you did this to him. He’s hard for You.
"Come on baby, squeeze it like you mean it, make me feel fucking good" He hisses, groaning into your neck when you squeeze him softly. The hardness in his jeans seems to get thicker and thicker, it fascinates you.
He ruts his hips into your palm, desperately,trying to chase the delicious friction while he pants into your soft flesh.
"Fuck, it's not enough" He curses, pulling back from you to unbuckle himself.
You bite into your lower lip in arousal and squeeze your thighs to alleviate some of the pressure you feel between your legs.
He looks up into your eyes, licking on his lips as he plays with the band of his boxer briefs. He watches in amusement, the way that your eyes can't seem to focus on one single thing, jumping from here to there, so nervous,so pretty and . God, you're cute.
He takes your hand in his own again and slips it inside his boxers, covering your palm with his own while he uses your soft hand to jerk himself off.
The hot and heavy feel of his leaking length has you whining. That only makes him chuckle and groan. "Mhmmn baby that feels so good"
The wet and messy way in which he uses your palm to stroke his length up and down, it's addicting, your palm feels soft and his whole body shivers when he sees how desperately you're squirming, your eyes wide and glossy. He wants to fucking ruin you.
He presses his body further into yours, taking your earlobe into his mouth, small whimpers falling from his mouth while his movements get faster. Your palm is slick with his precum, it should gross you out but everything is so hot and heavy in the small space.
"Are you wet? Just from feeling my dick? Desperate little thing aren't you? " He muses. You shake your head meekly, averting your gaze from his sweaty face and looking down to observe the rapid movements of your combined hands inside his boxers.
"M'not wet" you mewl, eliciting a mocking laugh from the boy. He trails his kisses down the tempting length of your neck, the touch so sensual, it leaves you gasping.
"I can feel your pretty little body squirming against me you know, makes me wanna force my dick inside you, where will you run if I do? " he asks, biting your collarbone when the slide of his dick gets wetter and squelchier.
His words, instead of scaring you, make an inexplicable heat to ignite your insides. You want him to, you can't believe how bad you want him to act on his desires because you know you don't have the courage to act on your own.
"f-fuck, pretty, moan for me baby, wanna hear you when I cum" He sighs into your neck, nipping at your skin and planting kisses in between his moans.
Hearing his words make you keen and he curses under his breath. The hold of his palm is brutal, your hand hurts but God does it feel good to hear him so desperate and needy, whining so hotly in your ear.
"fuck I'm so close so -ugh god-" His voice fades into a delicious moan and you can feel yourself dripping, your juices running down the length your thighs.
You don't hold back on your sounds, letting small whimpers leave your mouth when he digs his teeth into your skin again.
"Why won't you let me fuck you baby, wanna be the first to get inside your virgin little pussy so bad" He pants, supporting himself with a hand planted beside your head on the wall while he continues to masturbate using your flesh.
It's exhilarating, it's hot, and it's so scandalous.
"H-heeseung! " You moan when he lathers the skin of your neck with his saliva, tasting your skin like his life depends on it.
"Sh-shit" He stutters, the lewd way you cry out his name make his eyes roll back to the back of his head. You gasp when you feel his hot length twitching repeatedly, warm, thick liquid covering your entire palm along with his own.
His hips stutter a few more times inside your hold before stilling, a large sigh of satisfaction leaving his lips.
"Fucking hell baby, you always make me cum so hard" He whispers, chuckling to himself.
He pulls your hand out of his boxers and wipes his hand off on his jeans, while you watch in silence with face turning crimson. He dresses himself and winks at you before walking out of the closet, leaving you standing there with your palm covered in his sticky, gooey cum.
You feel used, but at least you’re useful for something.
To say that you are sick of yourself would be an understatement. You feel violated, but some sick part of you enjoys being desired so wantonly. It turns you on. Heeseung doesn't love you, scratch that, he doesn't even like you but here you are, letting him use your body like some mindless sex toy anytime he damn well pleases. You wonder what that says about you. Sure, he's a jerk, but what are you?
You're lost in thoughts, walking home when a loud honk makes you jump on the sidewalk. You turn towards the car honking at you and come to a halt, facing the very familiar Volkswagen.
There’s no way.
"Come on sweetheart, get inside" Jay grins at you from the inside of his car. You blink at a him a couple of time to really make sure that he's here. After the complete fiasco last night, you really weren't expecting to hear from him so fast. Or at all for that matter.
Nonetheless, he is here, and he's asking you to get inside his car. With your eyes downcast, you crawl towards it and slip inside the passenger seat, playing with your fingers while you avoid looking at him at all costs. He doesn't start the car, but you can feel the weight of his gaze on the side of your face.
"I'm sorry about last night" He begins, and you can't help but look up at him astonished. Why was he sorry? You were the one who royally fucked up.
He smiles at you apologetically and reaches out a hand to caresses your cheek by the back of it. If you weren't mentally screaming, you're sure you would have said something, and assured him that he has nothing to be sorry about.
"I just, I shouldn't have tried to kiss you so fast, at least not without taking you on a date first. it's just that we've been friends for so long, and we both like each other, so it just seemed like the right thing to do" He explains, remorse dripping from his tone. You start to node your head in support of his sentiments when his words click inside your brain.
Wait.��
"Y-you like me?" You blurt, cheeks flaming when his gaze falls to your mouth and he traces your bottom lip with his thumb.
"So much that i forgot how to behave" He mutters in a trance, all his attention focused on fiddling with your plump and fleshy lower lip.
You blush at his words and avert your gaze back down to your lap, and he pulls his hand back. You want to whine at the loss of contact, enjoying too much being caressed so softly. When was the last time you were touched so gently?
"Before I try to kiss you again, because I will, you're too pretty to resist- he chuckles, and you try to bite back the smile that's threatening to break free on your face- would you like to go on an aquarium date with me? A little birdy told me that is your dream date" He grins at you, wiggling his eyebrows when you look into his kind eyes, and you let your giggles take over your body. The fact that he remembers your random rant from months ago shoots a giddy feeling through your heart. It feels good being remembered.
"How about tomorrow? Skip college and let me take you out? " He suggests and you nod rapidly, almost detaching your neck from its socket. Jay only laughs at you endearingly, and it makes you blush even more.
He drops you off at the same building as last night again, and both of you are grinning from ear to ear when he drives off. You're sure you catch a few stray looks from the passerbys when they see you beaming and giggling like an idiot as you walk back home with an obvious skip in your step. It’s ridiculous, really, but it feels good to have something to look forward to in a very long time.
You sigh loudly when you remember the promise you made to jihoon this morning. You're mentally calculating the time you have prior to when you need to be at the cafe, when Suzy's door opens before you can even knock on it, and out comes your little brother, bounding, and giggling in a high pitched scream.
You squat down to catch him in your arms before he can collide with your legs.
"Looks like someone missed me" You giggle, hugging the little life close to your body, sighing upon inhaling the familiar scent of his baby powder.
"Missed yew" He mumbles into your throat, his little hands wrapped around your neck, and you can’t help but coo at him in adoration. "Missed you too my baby, y/n loves you so much"
"He has been so excited the entire day, he wouldn't even eat until I told him you'll be mad if he didn't" Suzy tells you, coming out of her house with jihoon's water bottle in her hand. You laugh at her words, and pick your brother up in your arms while he continues to nuzzle into you.
"I'll take him to the park for a bit, I have about an hour before my shift starts" You inform her and she nods at you, running her experienced warm eyes over your face.
"You look happy darling" She notes and you can't help the blush that dusts your cheeks at her words. She apparently notices , cooing at how shy you are all of a sudden.
"is it a boy y/n, yes or no?" She asks, a teasing lilt in her voice and you bite your lower lip, nodding in a giddy manner.
"It is, I have a date tomorrow" you admit, unable to conceal the excitement in your voice. She gasps and pats your head "what a fortunate man he'll be to have someone as amazing as you darling" She whispers, pure emotion shining in her eyes.
You swallow the lump forming in your throat at her words, averting your gaze and mumbling a small thank you. No, you refuse to cry today, you had your fill of indulging in your emotions yesterday.
So, you push her words to the recess of your mind, where you securely encase them in a metaphorical box, stacking it up on a bunch of age old boxes. Emotions that you adamantly refused to confront and deal with, a stance that you still maintain.
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As you sit staring at your wardrobe, a sense of urgency washes over you and you come to two stark realizations.
Firstly, you need to buy more clothes. The sparse collection of garments hanging before you testified to this necessity.
Secondly, and perhaps more pressing, was the acute awareness that none of what you have is remotely suitable for a date.
Jay is supposed to pick you up in a mere hour and you don't have anything to wear. Well, there's a blue halter neck dress that you wore for freshmen party in your first year, which you're sure doesn't fit you now. There's 3 silk pressed shirts which you alternate at your college, a handful of skirts and a scattering of sweaters.
And that's it.
You're about to cry when you feel a wave of panic rising within you. You’re o utterly unprepared for this moment.
As the crushing clarity threatens to overwhelm you, a pang of longing sweeps through you. You wish you had a girlfriend. It's not like you don't have friends, you talk to several people in school, be it for work or just casual chatting , but that's about it. Your relations with other people end as soon as you step out of your university building. Of course, you know that it's your own fault that you don't have anyone in your life, you never really put in the effort to keep up with someone, a casualty of your own reluctance to invest in deeper connections.
Whenever someone tries to delve deeper into your life, you just push back, and you push back hard. You are too consumed with your own life, you suppose. It's not that you have never had any friends either, you have had quite a lot, in fact, you even had a best friend in middle school. Time really changed you as a person though, its not to say that she didn't change either, time changes everyone, but your change had been tangible. You just let everyone go, choosing to stay in your own miserable bubble, blocking all attempts of reaching out or any support that you so desperately needed. Each flicker of friendship extinguished, each bond severed, bore the weight of your own self imposed isolation. You did this to yourself, you weren't a victim of circumstances no matter how much self pity you reserve for yourself. You were the architect of your own solitude, barricading yourself within the confines of your melancholic safety. You tell yourself that it’s better this way, that you don’t need anyone, but how long can you fool yourself?
The halter dress is the only option left for you it seems.
The dress is not tight, but anyone looking at it can tell that it's not made to fit your body either. It's not revealing, but you can't call it modest either, at least by your standards, you don't think you've ever shown so much skin before. The blue one piece ends smack in the middle of your thighs, your chest is covered for the most part, and the long sleeves cover up your arms. If it's not for the unfamiliar sight of your bare legs, everything looks quite normal, you don't look hideous so that's a relief.
You opt for leaving your hairs open, because last time you did that, Jay tried to kiss you.
You wait for Jay at the entrance of your false residence. If he finds it odd that you're already outside, he doesn't comment on it, and you're grateful for that.
"Wow" Jay says as soon as you enter his car “ you look so hot”, making your ears turn bright red.
"T-thank you" you mumble, trying not to be bothered by how blatantly he is ogling at your exposed thighs, or how his eyes linger due to your dress riding upwards when you sit down.
You both make casual conversation during the drive, and it's comfortable, the casual back and forth just like old friends. You can get used to this, you tell yourself.
The aquarium that he takes you to is bigger than your entire university building, so pretty and so enchanting, you almost lose track of time. Ever since you were little, you have dreamed of visiting one, you remember writing the same in one of your introductory papers in second semester, a paper that was discussed in class as well. How jay managed to remember that is beyond you tho. Throughout the date, he keeps you updated on every thing that you come across, and it feels good to have his attention completely focused on you. You almost combust when he takes you to a restaurant after the aquarium date, thoroughly flabbergasted because you've never been on a date before.
The experience is something you will never forget, your first date, the thought makes you feel ecstatic, the wide smile on your face which refuses to go away is a testament to that.
Turns out, your first kiss happens in the same night as well. As soon as Jay parks his car outside your trademark building, he's all over you. He doesn't ask you, he just leans over to you and smashes his lips against yours, tasting your hot mouth eagerly. You don't know what you're doing, your hands are placed awkwardly over his chest while you try to move your lips against his, mimicking his movements to the best of your ability. He doesn't seem bothered by your lack of skills tho, just diving into your mouth with his tongue, one hand cupping your face while with the other, he gropes your thighs.
You push back your discomfort and revel in the feeling of his touch, gasping when he bites into your lower lip. He tastes like the wine you drank at the restaurant and you wonder if you taste the same to him.
The kiss ends too soon for your liking, but, the feeling of his dark eyes and rough hands running all over the length of your body shamelessly, follows you back home.
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You ignore heeseung's calls for the next few days, almost contemplating blocking his number once and for all, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to do it.
Your dates with Jay continue, and you do manage to buy yourself a new dress. You’re doing well for your first relationship, if you can even call it that.
Even though Jay does seem to love kissing you, never in a million did you ever think that you'd find yourself in such a compromising position. However, here you are, sitting on Jay's lap in the middle of class while he eats your face. Yes, he's actually devouring your mouth, tongue buried so deep into your throat that the feeling has you arching your body into him.
What makes the experience more thrilling is the audience you have. Your classmates had collectively gasped when Jay pulled you onto his lap seemingly out of nowhere. But, it isn't them that you are worried about. It's the boy at the back of the class with a perfect scowl etched onto his handsome face as he watches you make out with someone that's not him.
Heeseung looks livid and you wonder why. Is he upset because he thinks you aren't a virgin anymore?
Jay lets you go with a smirk when the professor announces his presence, and you rush to your seat that's right in front of the scowling boy, in a daze. It's actually amazing how he ignores you the entire lecture, something that has never happened before. what's more unsettling is the fact that you are mildly disappointed by that.
You want to ask him what he's upset about, but you aren't able to gather the courage to. As much as heeseung's a constant itch at the back of your head, you remind yourself that you're dating Jay now, so you can't be thinking about other men.
You're dating Jay now. You're dating Jay. You're dating.
None of those sentences sound real to you.
However, the giddy feeling inside your chest dwindles as Jay gets more and more touchy throughout the entire day. You can't tell if it's normal to grope your chest just a few days after you had your first kiss, but you don't want to make him upset again. You don’t like seeing him angry. Besides, isn't this what you always wanted? Someone to want you, someone to love you?
And haven't you let Heeseung do worse things to you anyway? Why haven't you ever felt such discomfort when Heeseung used your body to get himself off? . But the truth is, has Heeseung ever touched you this way? Sure he sends you inappropriate messages that are borderline harassment, sure he used your hand to jerk himself off once, sure he wants your virginity and he has made his intentions clear, but has he ever ventured beneath your clothes before?
He has never groped your body before, not like Jay is doing. Now that you think about it, heeseung has never even kissed you before. Your mind makes countless comparisons between Heeseung and Jay, and you wonder why you do that to yourself. Were you really comparing the guy whose whole purpose of pursuing you was to pop your cherry and wear it like a symbol of achievement, to the boy that likes you and took you to your dream date?
A gasp leaves your throat when jay grabs your ass, smacking it and making you yelp between harsh kisses. You're glad you're in his car and not outside, glad that people aren't there to witness you being touched like this.
"You're so pretty" He whispers in your ear, and so you latch onto his words and overlook his actions.
Now that you have someone who likes you back, do you really want to push him away? Do you want to let your useless self doubt and trust issues stop you from living your life yet again? No.
Thus, you push your discomfort to the back of your mind when his hand travels under your skirt at one point.
"It's normal y/n, don't make a fool of yourself" you chant in your head, trying to enjoy the feeling of being wanted.
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“We never really talk.... There's so much we still don't know about each other" your voice is meek, feeling hesitant to say your thoughts out loud in case you end up upsetting jay; which you seem to be doing a lot, to be honest.
The said boy groans from the seat in front of you where he's busy on his phone, completely facing away from you.
"We know plenty" He quips, not even sparing you a glance, and you bite your lower lip to stop yourself from thinking too much about it. Maybe he just isn't in the mood today? But again, when is he ever in a mood?
All you do is make out, and when things get heated, you always pull away. Then he gets agitated, and doesn't talk to you for days. It fucks with your head, but you go along, and even though you don't feel comfortable, you start letting him touch you more, and even though your body is taut with tension, he never seems to care.
You want to tell him about your brother, want to share the little things you do together and the things that make you happy. You want to ask what his favorite color is.
However, the opportunity never seems to come.
Your mind drifts off to heeseung, and the little notes he used to throw at the back of your head during last semester.
"Do you like roses or lilies?"
"Do you sleep on your stomach or side? "
"Are you going to the town fair?"
You remember ignoring him back then, but now your heart constricts. Even if he was just trying to bother you, those questions were probably the only time someone had tried to get to know you. You don't know what it is about heeseung, but everybody just looks at you, he's the only one who has ever made you feel seen. Maybe in another universe you would push aside your shyness and answer those notes. Maybe in another universe you would throw some notes back at him, asking things that you wanna know.
"I like tulips... But lilies are good too"
"I sleep on my back, sleeping in any other position makes me sore, I don't know why tho"
"I'm not going to the town fair, I have to stay home with my brother, he's really small"
But it's too late now, and you swallow down your words, squash the need to talk to someone, and resort to the heavy silence that is your life.
Heeseung is about to fly off the handle. The sight of you in another man's arms shouldn't bother him this much and yet, it does. The fact that you're ignoring his calls and messages makes him feel slightly insane. It shouldn't be like this. You are just a bet. A pick. Just another name on the list.
Then why the fuck is he this close to smashing jay's annoying face in. It isn't even about your virginity anymore, and that's what bothers him the most.
He hates it, hates that he's so affected by you, but he should have seen it coming,to be honest. With the way he stays up late just to jerk off to your pretty face, no girl has ever drove him this close to insanity before. The lust he feels for you is blinding and all consuming. It burns him, the desire he feels for you scorches him from the inside. It unsettles him how badly you’ve managed to turn him into a slave to your big, doe eyes.
Therefore, when he catches you alone in the classroom after three whole weeks of you ignoring his presence, he just can't help himself. It’s unfair how fucking pretty you look standing near the white board, scribbling something down onto your notebook while trying to setup the projector for your presentation later.
The sound of the classroom door being shut makes you jump, but the reason makes cold dread run inside your chest. Heeseung looks like a predator as he advances on your figure, eyes dark in lust and the vein in his neck throbbing with anger. His hands itch with the desire to touch you, it's been way too long for his liking since he last felt you close.
Before you can say anything or do anything, he's on you. The feeling of his lips against yours is electrifying,it feels like your entire body comes alive at the contact. His kiss is surprisingly slow and more bruising than you've ever been kissed before. His hands wrap around your waist and he pulls you closer to himself, tilting his head to trace your lower lip with his tongue, waiting for you to let him in.
You should push him away but you don't. You can't. Your head is dizzy with a passion you've only ever felt with him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you push yourself closer to his firm body, opening your mouth and letting him tangle his tongue with yours. The moan that leaves your mouth at the feeling makes his slacks tighten, his dick hard and throbbing inside his trousers.
You taste so fucking addicting, Heeseung doesn't wanna stop kissing and tasting your warm mouth.
When he pulls away to breathe, you're both panting heavily, his forehead resting against yours, dark eyes staring into your soul.
"I don't like when someone ignores me y/n" He growls, his voice sharp and hoarse from desire. The feeling of his hard on digging into your stomach makes you squirm.
"I - I have a boyfriend, I shouldn't be talking to you" You manage to let out, biting back another moan when he grinds a bit into you.
Heeseung feels hot rage flash across his chest at your words.
"Oh yeah? He got his dick inside you yet?" He asks, his words making you blanch. How was he always so vulgar?
"That's, that's none of your business" You splutter, looking anywhere but his eyes.
His hold tightens around your waist and he continues to grind his hard on against your soft flesh.
"I'll take that as a no, fuck, still a virgin aren't you baby?" he guesses.
You avoid looking at him and it only spurs him on further, his hold tightens around your body the more that you try to maintain some space.
"What a loser, if I was him, I would have buried myself into that tight little cunt of yours on the first night of our date" He whispers, and for some reason, his words excite you instead of disgusting you. A sick tingle runs down your spine and throbs between your legs.
"H-he's not like you" You quip, looking up into his eyes to get your point across "he doesn't want me for my body, he loves me for me"
Your words seem to make him angry, if the slight clench of his jaw is anything to go by.
He stops moving against you and scoffs.
"Loves you? What do you know about being loved y/n? "
His tone is mocking, and eyes full of unfiltered rage, the words spoken with an intention to hurt. And hurt, they do. You wonder how he knows the exact place to strike to make pain ricochet so wildly inside your ribs.
What do you know about being loved? Nothing, you suppose. How do you recognize love if you have never seen it before? or do you just accept everything that comes to you as love because you don't have any option to? do you just cling onto every act of kindness because of how much you want it to be love?
What do you know about being loved indeed.
Seeing your face fall makes heeseung regret his words almost instantly, the sight of your big eyes blinking up at him so solemnly makes his heart twist uncomfortably. What the fuck?
Before he can apologize, however, your small hands slide down to push against his chest, and he lets you go. He doesn't stop you when you collect your assignment that you'd been working on when he barged in, your gaze downcast and shoulders slumped as if heavy from the weight of his words.
The urge to pull you into his arms hits him as he watches you leave, but he's too much of a coward for that.
Because no matter how much he wants himself to believe it,
You aren't just a name on the list, you never have been.
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The atmosphere feels different today. You took a day off from college just to spend time with Jay, and although it makes you feel guilty that you left jihoon with suzy for the entire day, you can't help but be selfish for once.
All of this feels like a fever dream and you want to enjoy it before your alarm rings and you’re thrust back into the harsh reality once again.
Jay took you back to the aquarium, then you both went to the beach that his dad owned, and you were having so much fun that you just couldn't say no when he asked you to stay the night at his place. "No funny business" He assured.
But that didn't last long.
You whined into his mouth as his rough palms travelled beneath your silky sundress, sundress that he bought for you. "The yellow really suits your skin, wanna kiss you stupid" He had said, leaving you a flustered mess.
"I'm gonna take this off baby" Jay whispers into your mouth, sitting back up and sliding your dress up your legs without waiting for your answer.
You squirm in anxiety and embarrassment when he exposes your panties to his curious eyes. You want to cover yourself, you want to hide, but his firm hold on your waist keeps you down and under his mercy.
He slides your dress further up your stomach and then it happens. Your worst nightmare comes true. His eye brows furrow and you watch in dread as his entire face shuts down.
"Let's turn the lights off" He says, and you don't know what's worse, the way he eyes your body in distaste , or the way he pulls your dress down to cover you up.
"Why? " You manage to ask, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. You know why, you just want to hear it. You want to hear him say it so that your illusion can shatter once and for all.
Jay looks away and sighs, his jaw ticking in frustration "because that's how I like to have sex" He replies, his tone smooth, but you are anything but stupid.
You sit up and bite on your wobbly lower lip, smoothing down your dress on your thighs with shaky hands.
"You don’t like what you saw" You whisper, barely audible, but he hears you alright. His nostrils flare as he finally turns to face you, looking angry and terrifying.
"Do you have to be so damn difficult all the fucking time you stupid bitch? I'm trying not to be mean but you wanna hear how much your body's turning me off to your face? " He grits, hands coming down to grab your thighs and spreading your legs open. A sob escapes your lips at his words and you hit his chest to push him away
"I w-want to go home" You cry, sobbing more when he grunts in anger and slaps your face, pinning you down by your throat while he pushes you down onto your back, and straddles your thighs.
"Wasted so much of my fucking time on you, and now you want to go home? Right when I'm this close to being the first one who's gonna scratch your name off the list? "
Your heart stops at the implication of his words, pure disgust and terror runs through your veins.Your eyes fill up with more tears and you start using your full body strength, squirming and flailing, somehow managing to hit him in the shins with your knee. He howls in pain and rolls off of you , cussing you out.
"Fucking bitch" He growls, but you don't stay or look back, grabbing your phone and running as fast as you can. You hear his footsteps chasing you, but the adrenaline pushes you forward even though your vision is blurry with how much you're crying.
How you managed to open his house's main gate is beyond you, but once you are out in the open, the night air hitting your wet cheeks, that's when you come to a halt. You don't know how far or how long you ran, you don't see any people around, just luxurious houses standing tall, and it makes you sob more. You don't see Jay chasing you down the road so that calms your heart a little, but soon, the gravity of your situation sinks in. You almost got raped.
The thought makes your knees wobble and you unceremoniously collapse onto the sidewalk, your back resting against a cold metal pole. Your hands shake and sobs wrack your entire body, feeling intense pain coursing through your bones.
You were jay's pick too. How could you have been so blind to the signs? Him approaching you out of the blue, just a few weeks after the list got released . if you weren't blinded by your stupid feelings, you would have seen it as clear as day. He wanted your virginity. Just like Heeseung.
He didn't like you as you had deluded yourself into thinking.
The disgust on his face when he saw the stretch marks littering the lining of your stomach, it was so palpable it made you flinch.
Was he going to fuck you just for the sake of winning the game? Is your virginity really all that? But who are you kidding, all this time, you have held onto your virginity so desperately because you know that it's the only thing that makes you desirable, doesn't it? It's the only reason Heeseung wants you, it's the only reason Jay pursued you, what even are you without your virginity? Once you lose it, you'll fade into the background again.
No more delusions. Just plain, cruel reality.
The hurt you feel is something that you brought upon yourself. Did you not know yourself? How could you ever, even for a second, expect someone to love this version of you? When even you can't look at your body without disgust, why did you expect Jay to?
As your sobs quite down and turn into small sniffles, you dial Heeseung's number and let your phone ring. This is it, you think to yourself, heart oddly calm when he picks up on the second ring.
"Hey sweetheart, this is the first time you have called me on y-
"Do you still want to fuck me? " You ask, your voice hoarse and monotonous.
You hear a sudden clatter of something falling down on the other end of the line, like he dropped something, taken off guard by the suddenness of your question.
"I-yeah-i mean what? are you okay baby? " He splutters, and your head throbs, you look around yourself and don't even recognize where you are.
"can you pick me up? I know it's late, but i think I'm lost, you can fuck me as payment, I'm still a virgin" You explain. And somehow, hearing you talk about yourself like a commodity rubs Heeseung the wrong way. What's going on with you? You don't even sound like the y/n he knows.
"Where are you baby? " He asks, and if you didn't know any better, you would say that he sounds concerned.
"I don't know.. there's a beach nearby.... and the area looks expensive, but i can't tell what street-
"send me your location from the maps baby, I'll be right there, just stay where you are " He warns before hanging up.
You want to smack your head against concrete, so much for being an academic weapon, why didn't you think about sharing your location before.
You rub your bare arms to keep yourself warm. Apparently, the dress isn't as warm against the night cold as it seemed to be inside the warmth of the house.
Somehow, this decision feels right. Heeseung has been the only person who has been honest about his intentions with you from the very beginning. Although it was the exact same thing that Jay wanted, but still, it feels right to let Heeseung take your virginity instead of anybody else. You want this miserable fallacy of want and desire to end. And for that, you are going to give away the only thing that makes you special. Sounds like a perfect plan to you.
After what seems like an eternity, a blue Toyota stops right in front of you.
You don't even glance at it twice, just staring blankly at your feet, until you hear the driver's door open, and shoes come into your line of vision. You don't even have a chance to look up before heeseung's gathering you into his arms
"Holy fuck you're freezing baby" He exclaims, picking up your numb body as you cling onto him for life, you can barely feel your legs. Heeseung lays you down in the back seat, and instantly turns the heater on. A cold shiver runs up your spine at the sudden temperature change, your eyes falling shut on their own, and everything around you fades into darkness. You want to sleep a very long sleep.
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Heeseung looks at your body in his back seat, anxiety coiling in his stomach at the sight of you being curled up into a fetus position. Even as he drives, he can't concentrate on anything else, because he's pretty sure he saw a red mark on your left cheek, like someone hit you. Hard.
He's hoping he's wrong, because the rage building up in his chest is inexplicable.
There's dry mascara tracks running down your cheeks so he figures that you must have been crying, and he can't help the sick jolt he feels in his cock at the thought.
The yellow dress you're wearing is riding all the way upto your thighs, and Heeseung can feel his throat getting parched. So much skin. He's never seen you this exposed before. He wants to touch you, wants to run his palm over your smooth skin and kiss you till you're moaning into his mouth , and he wants to take you up on that offer you made on the phone, he wants to see for himself how pretty you look while crying.
He curses himself for having such thoughts when you're clearly not okay, but Heeseung's no saint. He’s never claimed to be one either.
He knows that if you asked him to take your virginity to his face, he will ravage you on the spot, it won't matter that you seem to be in pain. He'll make you forget everything and fill you with pure pleasure the entire night.
He's not a man of morals, and he's never pretended to be one.
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You wake up with a start, breathing heavily while your eyes adjust to the view around you. The unfamiliar soft sheets, the tasteful and expensive decor of the room, it all intimidated you somehow. You called heeseung, that's all that you remember, everything after that is a blur. Is this jay's room? Did he find you again?
Your heart's beating really fast, threatening to give up on you as you look down and see yourself in a white linen shirt instead of the dress that you were wearing instead. What the fuck happened.
You instinctively reach between your legs and it doesn't hurt, your panties are dry and intact. So, this isn't jay's house or clothes. The familiar cologne fills up your senses once you take a whiff of the shirt you're wearing, and it all makes sense. Heeseung.
This is heeseung's house, and his room probably, definitely his shirt. Did he change you out of your dress? Was he as disgusted as jay when he saw the mess that you were underneath your clothes?
You look around yourself and sigh in relief at finding your phone on the bedside table, exhaling the breath that you didn't know you have been holding.
Before you can reach for it tho, the door to the room opens. You pull the sheets closer to your chest when Heeseung peeks in. He seems a little taken aback at seeing you awake and sitting up , looking like he caught you in the middle of doing something.
"Thank god you're up baby, thought you’d die on me" He grins, coming inside and closing the door behind him. Suddenly, the room feels small for just the two of you, your fingers wringing nervously when he takes a seat next to you, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks.
You bite back a pained whimper at the pressure against your left cheek, Jay must have hit you really hard, the skin still sensitive and stinging at the slightest of touch. Heeseung seems to notice your discomfort and removes that hand instantly, choosing to caress the other side of your face instead.
"I need to know that you're okay sweetheart" He says, urging you to speak. But you don't know what you're supposed to say, you aren't okay, obviously, but this is better than everything else so you suppose you are. You choose to nod instead.
He hums and slides more closer to you, forcing you to look into his eyes, his face so close that if you leaned forward just a bit, your lips would collide.
"Do you want to tell me what happened? Who did this to you?" He asks, and you are taken aback by the softness in his touch and words. But you'd be a fool if you fall for that again.
Hence, you take hold of his free hand instead, watching how his eyes immediately fall to your tight grip, watching in rapt attention as you guide his hand under your shirt, and between your legs. Heeseung's eyes instantly darken when his hand comes into contact with your panty clad pussy, a few choice words leaving his mouth when you gasp at his touch.
Fuck. He likes this bold version of you.
His eyes meet yours, and hot arousal pools in his lower stomach at the way you're looking at him, eyes blown out in lust and desperation.
"It doesn't matter" You whisper, inching closer to his face, and planting a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth "just want you to fuck me and show me how good sex can feel"
A deep grunt leaves his chest at your words, and the next thing you know, his hungry mouth is latched on yours, the force of his actions making you hit your back against the bed sheets while he mounts your body, his palm still cupping the centre of your legs. He kisses you like he's been deprived of you for so long. All thoughts of your well being leave his mind, focus locked onto the sinful words you just whispered into his ear. His tongue dives into your mouth and you give him free access, both of you exchanging spit messily. You mewl into his kiss, your body squirming pathetically when he starts rubbing your clit from above your panties, applying just the right amount of pleasure to leave you gasping.
You're just about to thread your fingers in his silky strands when the familiar ringtone of your phone makes you jolt. He ignores the sound like he can't even hear it, tongue too busy sucking yours, the movement of his thumb getting faster and harder.
You can't ignore the sound tho, there aren't many people who call you. So, when your phone rings for the second time, you know it's important. You push against his chest, and he pulls away, panting heavily while he stares at you, brows furrowed in confusion.
You swallow the spit pooling in your mouth as you watch him gathering your saliva coating his lips and sucking it into his own. How does he make everything seem so hot and nasty?
"Sorry, i- i have to take that" you whisper, motioning towards your blaring phone. Heeseung grabs it from the nightstand and hands it over to you instantly "make it fast baby" He grunts, retreating his hand from between your legs and settling on groping the soft flesh of your thighs instead.
You nod, and curse when you see Suzy's name. Fuck. Fuck. You never thought about informing her of your whereabouts. She must have been waiting for you. Jihoon must be waiting for you. With an apology on the top of your tongue, you swipe right.
"Hey suzy, I'm sorr-
"Y/n, your dad is back and you need to come back right now" Her terrified voice cuts you off. Panic takes hold of your spine, and you instinctively get out of the bed, standing up to calm down your heart. You can feel heeseung's inquisitive gaze on you, but you can't be bothered with keeping up appearances right now.
"What do u mean? Why do u sound scared?" You ask her, tears gathering at your waterline, because as much as you want to stay calm, the terror grips hold of your heart. It’s never good when your dad is back.
There's some shuffling on the other side, and your heart drops when you recognize jihoon's sobs, and Suzy's coos trying to shush him down.
"What's going on?!" you can't help but raise your voice, even though it quivers.
"Listen y/n, I think he came back a few hours ago, but when he didn't find you at home he came banging on my door, asking me where you were. And he was drunk out of his mind, but he heard jihoon's voice and now he is not leaving. He keeps banging on the windows, and asking for his son, I don't know what to do. I kept calling you, and you didn't pick up. I'm going to call the police, but jihoon is not my child y/n, you have to come back right now" More shuffling, and a loud thudding sound cuts the call off, making your heart beat out of your chest.
"Suzy??, suzy?!" No response. You look around in panic, meeting Heeseung's worried eyes.
"Pants, can you lend me some pants please" you ask him, tears dripping down your face. You're panicking so hard right now, your fingers feel numb. Heeseung scrambles to his feet immediately, and noticing your shaking hands, he helps you inside them himself, folding them so they don’t restrict your movement.
"Thank you, can you- you fret- can you please, please drop me to my house. I know I promised I'd let you fuck me but I really need-
His soft lips interrupt your rant while he kisses you tenderly and cups your face, wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs "address, baby"
And this time, you tell him your real one.
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You keep dialing Suzy's number the entire ride home but she doesn't pick up. If Heeseung hears you quietly sobbing, he doesn't mention it. You guide him to your house, and are thankful for the distraction his fingers provide as he draws random patterns on your thigh with his free hand.
You don't believe in God, you never have, but somehow , in this moment, you pray to whatever power is out there, if there is any, to keep your brother safe. You don't care about anything else. Just keep your little love safe.
Heeseung doesn't make small talk, doesn't ask questions, and you find that so comforting, it makes you wanna sob your heart out in his car.
The way he doesn’t look even slightly disgruntled by the state of your house or your neighborhood makes you want to tell him all about that you've been going through while he says nothing at all. It's been so long since someone listened to you, you know, just for the sake of listening, to take some burden off of your heavy heart.
You don't question it when heeseung gets out of his car with you, letting him follow you to Suzy's house. You don't even trust heeseung like that, but knowing that he's right behind gives you a silent strength.
Your dad's slumped on the front porch, one baseball bat clutched in one hand, and rubbing his face with the other. To say that he disgusts you, would be an understatement. How could you have ever loved this man? You haven't seen your father in so long, he got lost behind the violent person with red raging eyes a very long time ago. This man in front of you isn't your dad.
His bleary eyes fall on you, and he instantly stumbles onto his feet, pointing the bat at you.
"Where have you been you little whore" He hisses, his red eyes looking at you in pure hatred.
"What do you want dad?" You ask, fighting away any shakiness that manages to creeps into your words. Your heart is beating fast, you need to make sure that jihoon is safe, but the lack of noise from inside the house scares you.
"Where's my money?" He demands gruffly, taking a few steps towards you. You don't stumble back like you usually do, trying to hold your ground.
"There's no money dad, there's nothing for you here" You quip. Your words seem to anger him more, his nostrils flare, and he points the bat at the house "bring that little bitch out, I know you're hiding him inside, if you won't make me money, he will" He spits, and you can't believe your ears, hot tears dribble down your cheeks, blurring your vision of him.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?? Have you got no amount of shame left in you? "
A yelp resounds from your throat when your father grabs hold of your wrist all of a sudden, pulling you close, boring his threatening eyes into yours. You wince at the smell of alcohol on his breath.
"The fuck did you just say to me you little slut- he twists your arm, making you cry out in pain, you try pulling yourself away but he only tightens his hold on your arm- do u want me to break your ribs like I did with your whore moth- it all happens so fast, the grip on your arm loosens, a scream rips through the air, your dad falls to the ground. And then there's silence.
You stare in disbelief at the boy straddling over your dad's unconscious body, wiping his bloody knuckles on his jeans. He punches your dad's face twice more, then kicks him to roll him over while he stands back up.
At that point he turns to you, and you start sobbing. Heeseung is about to open his mouth to apologize for punching your dad unconscious, panicking that he did something wrong when you're pulling him into you, smashing your lips against his, kissing him with all that you've got.
Heeseung is taken aback, his eyes widening when your taste invades his mouth, but he recovers almost instantly and pulls you close to his body, kissing you back just as hard. The kiss is wet and salty because of how much you're crying, but he couldn't care less.
You're both breathing heavily when you pull apart, eyes widening when you hear Suzy's door click open. Jihoon!
You leave Heeseung standing on the porch, running to suzy when she comes outside "jihoon?" you question, your voice out of breath.
She glances at Heeseung, and then at your dad, before looking back at you.
"He fell asleep while crying, I think he got one of his seizures y/n, all the shouting really scared him" she explains, and you cup your mouth, more tears prick your eyes, feeling your heart break all over again.
It's been years since your brother got his last seizure attack because of trauma triggers. You have managed to keep him away from all his triggers, except this time. All because you were selfish, and wanted to stay the night away. Your life has to be one long, never ending sick joke.
"where's he?" you ask, your voice feeble, you're afraid you'll start screaming if you aren't careful.
"In the spare bedroom, go, I'll take care of him" She says, motioning towards your dad.
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The time span between carrying your brother home to tuck his sleeping figure inside his buzz Light year sheets, while suzy takes care of informing the police and calling the ambulance for your unconscious, and injured dad is a blur for you.
Heeseung doesn't get in trouble because you vouch for the attack being in self defense, your dad's history of abuse and drinking helps your case.
After all cars are gone, and you finally breathe a sigh of relief, you realize that Heeseung is still here. Your heart feels full when you look at his unruly appearance, and you don't want to admit the yearning you feel for him right at this moment. He's the first person besides suzy to witness the shit show that is your life, and you wonder why isn't gone yet.
And then you remember. Right, your virginity. How can you forget.
You find him leaning against your kitchen counter, hands in pocket as he waits for you. He looks so out of place standing in your small kitchen, the light bulb swinging above his head makes his skin glow, and you can't help but be attracted towards him like a moth drawn to the flame. His eyes find yours as soon as you round the corner to your kitchen, and they stay. This look is different.
He's looking at you like he's seeing you for the first time.
You take tentative steps towards his figure, fiddling with the long sleeves of his shirt that you're wearing. You don't even get to open your mouth before he's pulling you closer to him, his one hand wrapping around your waist while he cups your cheek with the other, swallowing the gasp that escapes your lips at the sudden touch.
He kisses you like you're the air that he breathes, his tongue dipping and tasting all crevices of your warm mouth. You fist the shirt on his chest, and tilt your head to deepen the kiss, whining into his famished mouth.
The kiss is everything you've ever wanted. It's not rushed, but it's needy. The passion dripping from his lips renders you boneless, and you lean further into him. The exhaustion seeping inside your bones seems to get heavy with each languid stroke of his tongue, and you don't realize when the tears start falling down your cheeks. He doesn't pull back tho, just trails his kisses upto your face, swallowing your tears as he pulls you flush to his body, dissipating any ounce of space that was left between you two.
When you pull apart, your mouths are connected by a string of saliva, hot pants escaping your chests. He rests his forehead against yours, and caresses your face by the back of his hand, cooing when you bite your lower lip to stop the tears from falling again.
You're exhausted. You're dead tired and his touch seems to be your undoing, setting all your emotions free, the severity of all the events that happened in the last twelve hours hitting you all at once.
"Let me fuck your pain away, baby" He whispers, and in that moment, you can't seem to resist falling into the familiar comfort of delusion. You know that once you let him fuck you, he'll lose interest, but you need it now. You want to bask in his affection and call it love. You want to experience feeling loved and wanted before it's inevitably snatched away from you.
"fuck me" you whisper back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders when he groans and leans into your mouth again. Heeseung feels like a fucking jerk, but seeing you so helpless, and in dire need of his touch makes him delirious.
This is a new feeling. This desire to be needed by you.
He would not admit it to you, but he relishes in the fact that you're alone, and in so much pain. It makes it easier for him to show you how much you need him. He wants you to keep him, crave him like he does you.
You gasp into his mouth when he hoists you up into his arms, your tiny figure melting into his touch. He loves it, loves how easy you are.
He might be taking advantage of your pain and vulnerability, but he only wants you to want him just as badly as every bone in his body wants you.
Your back hits the couch, and you stare up at him with wide eyes as he hovers over you, a lustful glint in them that drives him nuts. Your hands bunch up the shirt on his chest, and you pull him back into you again, not getting enough of his lips on yours.
You love how dizzy his touches are making you, your body arching into him when he gropes your curves, his hands all over you.
"Wanna see you naked" He whispers, and your heart plummets into your stomach. A sinking feeling beginning to form a pit inside your chest. No, it can't be happening again.
He must see the hesitance on your face, because he's caressing your cheek again, so softly and so gently, you almost mistake it for genuine care, but you know better.
"What is it?" He asks, planting few pecks on your pouty and swollen lips.
You twiddle with the button of his shirt, and avoid eye contact.
"C-can we turn the lights off? looking at me might turn you off" you manage to mumble, the words burning your throat on their way out .However, you're done lying to yourself.
Heeseung doesn't say anything, and you peek up to see his face. He is looking at you like you've grown two heads. It makes you feel self conscious, your ears burning in humiliation, feeling like you ruined the mood already.
"You're beautiful" He blurts, eyes still fixed on you in disbelief, he can't fathom you thinking such a thing about yourself. Him? Getting turned off by you? He has not heard a more ridiculous thing in his life before.
Your eyes snap up to him at his words and you furrow your brows in irritation.
"You don't have to lie to get inside my pants I al-"
"I've jerked off to your face" He cuts you off. Your mouth splutters like a fish as you blink up at him, trying to process his words.
He's still staring at you, eyes dark and deep.
"Jerked off just to your face. Not even your body. you're so beautiful I get hard by the mere thought of you"
You don't know whether to laugh or cry. Only Heeseung can say such things and make them feel like a compliment. You can't help the giggle that escapes your lips, and you hide your face into your hands.
"God, you're unbelievable" you groan between your giggles, unknown to the fact that heeseung's currently losing his damn mind on top of you. In that moment he realises, that he's never made you laugh before. You have never looked up at him and giggled before. The sound shoots straight to his hardening cock and spreads a warm feeling inside of his chest. He can't believe how overwhelming this sudden emotion is, and he isn’t sure where this sudden influx of affection for you is coming from. However, there’s one thing heeseung’s sure about, and it’s the fact that he loves this sight more than he loves to see you crying. And that's saying a lot.
He swallows thickly when you remove your hands from in front of your face, and smile up at him, chewing on your lower lip as the blush on your cheeks darkens
"This might be most romantic thing someone has ever said to me" you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck again.
Heeseung leans down to press soft kisses to your jaw, preventing you from seeing the softness in his eyes. He trails his kisses down towards your neck, loving the way your breath hitches.
"Do you wanna hear the other romantic things I have to say about you?" He asks, mouthing at your collarbone, and you whine when he digs his teeth into your soft skin.
"Y-yeah" you mewl, your body squirming as he squeezes your ass in one hand while he supports himself over you with the other.
His hand travels inside your (his) shirt, touching your skin, caressing it. You bite on your lower lip, eyes fluttering when he reaches your bra covered breasts. Your nipples are already hard and pebbled, and you moan loudly when he pinches them.
"fuck" He groans, your erotic sounds making him leak inside his jeans.
He mouths hotly at the hollow of your neck, and squeezes your boobs harshly, making you cry out again. Fuck, he loves playing with your body like this.
You tangle your fingers inside his hairs, your toes curling at the attention he's giving to your chest.
Heeseung sits up to unbutton your shirt, manhandling your body to take it off of you in a lust driven frenzy. As soon as it’s off of your body, he instantly goes back to squeezing your soft flesh again, watching with dark eyes how your soft skin turns red in his hold.
"Ah-heeseung" you whimper, feeling exposed at how he greedily drinks in your uncovered skin.
He unbuttons your (his) jeans, and slides them off of your legs in one go, discarding them on the floor. He bites his lower lip, his eyes running across your uncovered body, and he can feel how hard and heavy he is inside his jeans. He fights the urge to squeeze his junk when you bite on your finger, doe eyes staring up at him, your body squirming as he gropes you.
You're so naively sexy, your innocence drives him batshit insane.
"I almost jerked off to you while changing your clothes you know? you just looked too fucking sexy to resist" He grunts, his fingers running over your stretch marks. Before you have a chance to feel self conscious about the fact that he's seen your body before, or feel apprehensive about his touch on your stretch marks, he leans down to kiss them. You gasp when he runs his hot tongue over them, kissing and licking like he can't help it. He traces your panty line with the tip of his tongue, hands groping your thighs mercilessly.
He's so close to your pussy, and your face burns.
"H-heeseung" You squeak out, and the boy instantly climbs up your body to come face to face with you, pecking you softly as he hums.
"I-i haven't shaved" you tell him shyly, your ears heating up in embarrassment. But you need to tell him now before he recoils in disgust later.
What you don't expect is the way he chuckles, leaning down to nibble on your cheek while his hand cups your breast again, squeezing and groping.
"you worry about the things that don't even cross my mind baby- he pecks your nose and stares into your eyes- you think I'll care about some hairs when your warm pussy is right there? that I'll be able to think about anything other than sucking and fucking when my dick's about to fall off?"
Your face is so hot you can feel the heat radiating off of you. Though his words are vulgar, and so obscene, they do placate your worries for a bit.
Keyword : a bit.
You're still apprehensive about him being down there. What if you smell bad? and taste even worse?
You gasp when he roughly pulls your boobs out of your bra cups, and takes one in his wet mouth. You tug on his hairs, and moan when he bites your nipple too harshly, the sensation making you arch your back into his mouth.
You don't notice when his hand travels between your legs, but a deep whine falls from your lips when he runs a finger over your panty clad slit.
"you're fucking dripping baby" He groans into your flesh that he still has in his mouth, sucking and biting both of your boobs till they sting.
You try to close your thighs around his hand but he tsks in faux disappointment, and parts them again, trailing his kisses down towards your centre, leaving no portion of your skin unmarked.
He kisses your pussy from above your panties, slurpimg your wetness through the sheer material, burying his nose into your slit.
"fuck baby, taste so good" he groans, rubbing his nose in your wetness, tracing the outline of your pussy with his mouth. You bite your finger, and squirm in his touch, feeling yourself dripping more.
He trails his kisses down to your inner thighs, making you squeal when he digs his teeth into your sensitive flesh. He chuckles into your skin, and does the same to your other thigh. He seems to be enjoying this more than you are. He leaves more bites marks up your leg before burying his face between your legs again, making your thighs close around his head.
The action makes something in him snap, and heeseung sits up on his hunches, stares straight into your eyes while he licks his lips for your juices, and starts sliding your panties down your smooth legs.
“want you in my mouth before we fuck”
Your breath hitches when his heavy lidded eyes snap down to your nakedness, and he closes his eyes to groan.
"shit" He curses, parts your legs open, and dives straight between your legs, not even bothering to take off your panties all the way off as it hangs on your ankle obscenely. He sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth,and you moan so loudly it has you slapping your palm over your own. The overwhelming sensation makes your eyes roll back, only ever feeling your own fingers down there, it's a heady feeling to feel someone else.
You tangle your fingers in his hairs, tugging harshly when he slurps your wetness, parting your pussy open with his fingers,and thrusting his tongue inside your virgin hole,running it all over your vulva like a starved man.
You thrash in his hold, a shiver running down your spine when his nose bumps your clit, and he starts applying pressure, rubbing it back and forth. The obscene squelch that you can hear from between your legs has your face burning, you can't believe how wet you are. You aren't ready for the sudden feeling of his finger sliding inside your pussy, and you scream. Heeseung looks up at you from between your legs, and increases his movement, eyes dark as they watch you lose yourself to pleasure.
"How does that feel? " He asks, voice so deep it makes your pussy throb.
You moan, and nod your head rapidly "s-so good" you whimper when he dives down to suck on your clit again. The combined feeling of his fingers and mouth pushes you closer to your orgasm.
"Yeah baby? Your pussy's so tight, can't wait to get in there, wanna feel good too" He groans, thrusting a second finger inside your warm cavity, and probing inside your gummy walls in come hither motion that makes you mewl.
"So wet" He mumbles, licking into your pussy again. And God do you taste addicting, heeseung can spend the whole day buried in between your legs if you would give him a chance. The way your walls flutter around his fingers has him leaking copious amount of precum in his jeans, and he has never been so turned on before.
"pleasee" You moan, and he's crawling up to you again, his lips capturing yours and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He fucks you with his fingers rapidly, lust filled eyes watching in rapt attention at how your eyes flutter shut, and your body arches into him, so ready to getting lost in pleasure.
He curses under his breath as he watches how you grind your hips on his fingers, trying to chase the pleasure they’re giving you
"yeah? Gonna cum and make a mess baby? " He asks into your mouth, swallowing your moan, and licking the drool escaping your lips.
You nod your head and dig your nails into his neck, holding onto him for your life. Heeseung ruts his hard on against your thigh as he watches you come undone on his fingers alone, moaning his name unintelligibly. Watching you cum is the hottest thing he’s ever seen, he decides.
"Cum on me, make yourself feel good" he sighs, the pleasure filled expression on your face has him close to cumming untouched. You gyrate your hips while his fingers get covered in your juices, drenching his palm as he helps you ride out your orgasm. You sigh out in relief, coming down from your high, your hold loosens on his neck and you squirm while you watch him sucking his fingers, tasting your juices. It's so hot, you don't even realize when you lean in. His lips meet yours and you moan upon tasting your cum, sucking on his tongue like he sucks yours.
"Made you feel so good yeah?" He asks, his voice hoarse in desire, and you nod, pushing yourself into him again. He wraps his arms around your body, and unhooks your bra, finally taking it off of your body, and discarding it somewhere.
"My turn" He grunts.
You rub your thighs together while he unbuckles his belt, ogling your naked body like a pervert. Your eyes widen when he pulls his boxers down unceremoniously, just enough to let his dick flop out.
It's bigger in person,even bigger than you remember while touching him and you whine. There's no way that can fit inside you. His eyes darken as he strokes his cock, fisting it to the sight of your naked body lying so helplessly, ready for the taking. And God does he want to take you.
If you weren't a virgin, he would have been pounding your hole by now, but as much as he's impatient, he wants to make this experience good for you too.
You're sucking on your finger again, your eyes fixed on how he moves his palm up and down his shaft, the real life version makes you drip more than the video he sent did.
Heeseung hovers over your body again, and grabs your hand, pulling out your finger from your mouth. "No hiding your sounds from me, wanna hear you loud and clear while I fuck you stupid" He growls, and you squirm under his gaze.
You yelp when you feel him running his dickhead against your slick pussy, wetting it in your juices for a smooth slide. You dig your nails into his shoulders, staring up at him with your big doe eyes as you utter the words which make Heeseung finally snap.
"p-please don't make it hurt" your voice is the sweetest thing he's ever heard, and God, does he want to hurt you. He wants to roughly push himself inside till there's nothing but tears of pain and pleasure running down your pretty face. He wants to make you scream, and show you how pain only heightens the pleasure.
You're so naive, looking up at him, trusting him, but heeseung is lost in his dark desires and pushes in without a warning. You turn him on so badly.
You scream at the way his length bullies itself inside your tight hole, scraping against your walls and your body feels like it's being split in half. Tears blur your vision and you push against his chest, sobbing through the pain that makes you want to run away. It's too much.
"h-hurts please-oh-" his hips push inside and then he's balls deep into you, groaning in satisfaction while you scream again. The feeling of your hymen tearing apart makes you sob uncontrollably, and you try to angle your hips away from him. He doesn’t fit, he’s gonna tear you apart.
Heeseung holds your hips in his bruising grip, and starts moving in and out. He's too damn turned on to think about anything else other than how good your virgin pussy feels around his dick.
"Stay still baby, let me feel good" He grunts, pulling out of your hole to the hilt, and then pushing inside again. In and out. In and out. His hot pants fall onto your wet cheeks. Heeseung reaches down to rub on your clit, relishing in the wet warmth of your pussy. It feels more pleasurable for him when you start getting impossibly wet.
Soon enough, Your pain filled sobs start to subside, and pleasure filled sobs start to leave your lips instead.
That's when he starts fucking in earnest. Once he hears you moan in pleasure, heeseung lets go of all his inhibitions, and straight up pounds into you.
"Fuck yeah baby, so fucking tight for me" he groans, snapping his hips against you at a rapid pace. His balls smack against your ass every time he pushes in, and the skin slapping sounds make your head throb in pleasure.
You didn't know sex could feel so good.
"Heeseung please, oh my god" You moan when his dick rubs against your sweet spot, his hot pants fall on your mouth while he slots his lips against yours in imitation of a kiss
"Yeah? Just like that?" He asks, his own eyes rolling back when you clench around him. So deliciously tight.
The slide inside is so deep and so wet, it makes his hips pick up speed.
"Warm little cunt, waited so long to get inside" he groans, biting on your lower lip, and grinding his pelvis against yours.
The sheer ecstasy running through your veins at the way his cock makes out with your cervix, makes you thrust up your hips against him. You buck into his hold, pressing your body closer, rubbing your chest against his clothed one. It's then that you realize that he's still wearing clothes.
Heeseung curses under his breath when you whine and tug at his shirt.
"You wanna feel me naked baby?" he asks, running his hands over your curves as he pounds into your warm hole. It's too good to stop.
You nod and tug on his shirt again, trying to get closer to him.
"Fuck" Heeseung mutters, and sits back on his hunches, his hips still grind into you while he strips himself off of his clothes. He pulls himself out of you for a split second to discard his jeans and boxers on the floor, then he's thrusting into you again.
"This is so much fucking better" He moans, loving how your naked body arches into his own, rubbing yourself against him so desperately. The delicious friction of your grinding sexes makes you both delirious in pleasure. Heeseung digs his fingers into the fat of your waist, and buries his face inside the crook of your neck, kissing and moaning along it while his thrusts become
merciless. You dig your nails into his shoulders, and throw your head back, exposing more skin for him to dig his teeth into.
The obscene way your naked bodies buck and thrust against each other to reach pleasure high is a sight to behold. The skin slapping, and wet squelching sounds fill up the space between your heated bodies, and you never want this feeling to stop.
"tight fucking cunt, so good, wanna keep fucking till my dick aches" His filthy words travel deep inside your core, and warmth spreads inside your womb, the knot starting to form in your stomach.
"oh my god" You moan when he slows his hips into a slow grind, hitting all the right spots inside your swollen pussy.
"Yeah? fuck yourself on my dick like a slut, grind your virgin little pussy on my meat" He growls, coming up to capture your lips in his own, groaning into your mouth when you dig your nails painfully inside his flesh, enough to draw blood.
The sweat drips down your bodies, as you rut against each other in pure pleasure. You moan into heeseungs mouth as he languidly licks against your open cavity, sucking on your tongue, and exchanging spit.
The pace of his thrusts fasten, and he pounds you into the couch, fucking into you like his life depends on it. Your words are reduced to mere moans and babbles, your tongue lolling out at how good he feels.
"gonna cum inside this cunt baby, gonna let me fill you up right? flood your insides with my fuck cream?"
You nod in a lust filled haze, and heeseung licks the saliva that pools in the corner of your mouth.
" Yeah? Real deep baby? Fuck-so fucking good Jesus" He growls, his spit and sweat falling into your mouth as he starts rutting into you like an animal. He can feel himself getting closer. the knot in your stomach snaps when he presses his palm into your lower stomach to trace his outline. You gasp into his mouth, and your body convulses uncontrollably.
"Fuck yeah, god you're gonna make me cum, god im- his hips grind a few times inside your pussy, and then he's stilling inside of you, the tight clench of your pussy pushing him over the edge, shooting his thick cum inside your womb.
It feels so good that Heeseung keeps moving inside you till you whine and cry out in overstimulation. You're grateful when he listens, and pulls out, but the very next second, he's getting down there and burying his face between your legs again, slurping your combined juices from your pussy. Your toes curl at the feeling, and you can't help but open your mouth when he comes up to slot his cum filled one against yours. It's nasty, but you can't stop licking into him, tasting your mixed release together.
"Fuck, you're nasty" He chuckles, finally turning your body around, and wrapping you into his embrace.
For the first time in your life, you fall asleep nuzzled into a warm and comforting body against you.
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Heeseung has always prided himself in the fact that he doesn’t get attached to people easily, doesn’t feel certain emotions until he allows himself to. He’s not a good person, he’s always known this, that’s the reason why he has always kept himself at a distance.
Watching. Observing.
Nothing in his life is unpredictable, heeseung works according to the plan, always predicting and preparing himself for situations that can happen. That’s just how he operates.
Watching. Observing. Executing.
You, however, caught him off guard. Heeseung was never ready for you to barge in his life the way that you did.
You think you know him from third semester but heeseung knows you from way before that. The first time he’d seen you was on the very first day of college, waiting right outside the registrar office, chewing on your bottom lip nervously as you stepped aside for people to pass.
There was something about you that stuck with Heeseung. He couldn't figure out what it was no matter how much he thought about it but you soon became a constant itch at the back of his mind.
It wasn't like you were strikingly pretty. Heeseung had been surrounded by beautiful women all his life. Almost desensitized to extravagant beauty. It all seemed vague to him.
You were not extraordinarily pretty, no.
But you were enchanting. it was the type of pretty that stuck with you, that stayed with you, the type of pretty that might not capture your attention in the first glance but the second or third glance might have you hooked; the type of pretty that was made up of hesitant smiles and solemn gazes and fidgeting hands.
Heeseung watched you from afar for a long time, observing, learning. That was until he saw an opportunity to be in the same lecture as you. That’s when he started executing.
And then you made him fail. At his own game.
Heeseung’s sickness identified and craved yours, rendering him powerless when he realized that maybe,you were even sicker than him, a thousand times more depraved. You just didn’t know it yet.
He didn’t realize when you became the very thing he breathes, carving yourself a home inside the darkest parts of his heart.
Ever since he fucked you into your sheets, his craving for you has increased tenfold. He is way past pretending that you are some stupid bet, or a mere name on the list. Seeing you vulnerable, and yet so strong , made something shift in him. He's always been sick in desire for you, but over the past few months, you have managed to infiltrate your way inside his brain.
"How's the mission " Cherries to pop" going for you man?" Jake's voice interrupts his thoughts, and he doesn't have to think twice about his answer, eyes fixated on your slumped figure as he replies
"Take her off the list, I won"
Numerous gasps are heard around him, sunghoon laughs in shock, eyes meeting Jake's in disbelief "you can't be serious, was she any good? " He asks, nervousness creeping in his voice, because heeseung does look serious.
Heeseung turns his eyes towards sunghoon, face void of any recognizable emotion
"the bet's over. I don't want to talk about it, but if I see any of you fuckers around her after this, it's going to get bloody " He warns, sweeping his eyes over the shocked faces of the boys around him. And with that, you are taken off the list forever.
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You hear the whispers, you aren't deaf, but something inside you disassociated when you woke up in the evening after losing your virginity. Cold and alone.
Heeseung had cleaned your body and clothed it before he left, but not having him near stung more than you ever thought it would. It was to be expected tho, wasn’t it? He got what he wanted, there was no reason to stay.
"can't believe heeseung really did it"
"Man, she doesn't look like she must have been a good fuck"
"A win is a win"
You don't dare look up the entire day, ignoring all the folded papers that fall beside your leg. Curiosity doesn't get the better of you, and you don't pick them up to read what's inside. It just doesn't seem to matter anymore. All this buzz will die down in a week, and you will finally resort back to the dark corners, and shadows where people will no longer look at you, just past you.
You don't dread the reality of your situation anymore, a small sigh leaving your lips as you gather your stuff, and walk past the inquisitive stares.
Settling down at the farthest seat in the cafeteria gives you a sense of relief. This seat has been your safe space through all ups and down. The only constant in the chaos of your existence.
You're busy swirling your food around the plate when a sudden quiet falls over the cafeteria. All the chitter chatter and noise dies down. It's almost eerie. Eerie enough to finally make you look up to see what's wrong. Your eyes turn towards the entrance as you follow everyone's collective gaze, and what you see makes your heart plummet in your stomach.
It's Jay. But he's wearing a cap, his head slumped down as he makes his way towards his seat with an obvious limp, but it doesn't hide the black and blue wound blossoming around his left eye, several deep cuts on his lower lip, and scratches on his cheek. The high neck he's wearing sticks out like a sore thumb in mid July, and you wonder if there's more that he's trying to hide. You don't have to worry about facing him, looks like he's not going to be looking up anytime soon.
Realization sets inside your throat like a lump, and you instinctively snap your gaze towards heeseung's table. His eyes are already on you when you find him. They're dark, and tender, if that's even possible. You feel like you're drowning in them. Your throat feels full, and your eyes burn the more that you look at him, and you can't help but follow your instinct to get out of here as soon as possible. It's too much. This sudden influx of emotion is too much for you.
Murmurs follow your leave, but you don't stay behind to hear or care. Your steps are heavy and purposeful as you stride forward, away from everyone and everything. This feels like a fever dream. Why the fuck would Heeseung do that? Scratch that, how the fuck did he even find out?
But you know exactly how he found out. The location that you shared. It isn’t rocket science to figure out who lives nearby. Of course he knows. What confuses you is the fact that he cared enough to look it up and avenge you in his own sick way.Why does he even care?
You can feel a breakdown coming, and so without wasting time, you rush home in a frenzy. By the time you reach your threshold, your throat hurts, the tonsils burning in pain. Your body is begging for you to let it out, but you're a slave to your habits. Holding everything inside until it chokes your airway.
You're tapping your leg frantically as you stir a spoon haphazardly in your coffee cup, swallowing down copious amounts of caffeine to push back the inevitable. You hate breakdowns, hate feeling so out of control and vulnerable. It shatters your facade, makes you come face to face with the pretty lies that you tell yourself.
"It's going to be fine, you're fine"
But are you?
A loud honking in your front yard makes you drop your cup, spilling all of its contents on your shoes, jumping back as you get startled out of your mind.
Who the fuck?
You step over the mess and make your way to your front door, watching in disbelief as Heeseung's car idles in front of you. He's looking right at you from his window, and you wonder what is it about his eyes. There's something about his eyes and the way he looks at you. It makes you feel naked. Body and soul. It seems like he looks right through you, and you don't know if you like that.
Your feet move on their own and he doesn’t even have to say anything. In no time, you find yourself sitting inside his car, your back against the expensive leather seats, while you play with the stray threads of your blouse.
"What do you want now?" you ask, deciding to break the silence. It's only fair to stop beating around the bush and get this over with. Whatever this is.
"You" He answers almost immediately, making you scoff. You don't look at him but you can feel his gaze burning into you.
"I'm not a virgin anymore Heeseung, you won, there’s nothing more that I can offer you" Your voice feels scratchy against your throat, and you wonder if it's because of the tears you keep pushing back.
There's a heavy pause of silence, and then you hear him chuckle, almost in pity and contempt.
"You don't get it do you?" He asks, voice laced with disbelief.
When you don't look up, and don't respond, he laughs hollowly.
"Ask me why I did that" He says, his tone a tad bit deeper now. It's a demand. "Ask me why I smashed pretty boy's face in"
You swallow the lump in your throat, and close your eyes. Not now please.
"Why" you whisper ask, almost inaudible if it wasn't for the pin drop silence in the car.
"because it gave me a sick satisfaction to see him in pain. I'm not sorry about how your old man ended up either. If I could, I would shoot both of their skulls open for putting their hands on you"
The anger and pure hatred in his voice makes a sob to rip through your chest, eyes finally snapping up to meet his. They're dark in anger, and disdain, and you wonder why he cares so much. You look over to his wounded knuckles which are turning white due to how tightly he’s gripping onto the steering wheel. The sight of his anger mirroring your own ignites a spark of recognition deep within you. The raw intensity of emotion emanating from Heeseung stirs something inside your vacant soul. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you feel seen. Validated. All this time, you had told yourself that you got what you deserve. You were fundamentally flawed, and all of this pain was your own fault.You never allowed yourself to be angry, burying the rage beneath your stoic facade, but seeing Heeseung angry for you makes your own walls crumble one by one.
"I want to cut open anyone who's ever hurt you baby, I want to be the only one who gets to hurt you" He declares.
You gape at him while tears run down the slope of your cheeks
"that's-that's not normal" you whisper, but his expressions don't crack, eyes wide and pupils dilated. In this moment, he looks insane, and it scares you how much you want to get lost in him.
"You don't need normal" he replies.
His words hit heavy and get stuck inside your throat. You look away and wipe your tears, swallowing another bout of sobs threatening to escape your chest. The walls are cracking, the sound of them breaking and destructing can be heard as you let his words sink in.
"Quit your part time job and let me take care of you. Your every need, I'll satisfy it. You won't even have to ask me for it and it will be done" He says, leaning forward, as if trying to make you see the reason in what he's saying.
You shake your head, eyes brimming with anger and tears as you stare right into his own.
"I don't need you to take care of me. I've always done it myself and I have managed to do it just fine, I don’t need you" you seethe, feeling rage at his implication that you can't hold your own.
His expressions soften as he runs his eyes over your angry tears, his hand coming up to wipe them with his thumb. It’s pathetic how this small caress makes you lean into his touch.
"No you don't. But I need you. I need to take care of you. I won’t be able to live with myself if I don't" He confesses.
More tears run down your cheeks as sobs rip through your chest, and he continues to caress your face.
"Is this a declaration of love?" you grouch through your physical grief, watching how his eyes gaze into yours, as if he wasn't expecting you to ask him that.
"Does it have to be? I promise to keep you happy and protect you from all harm, should that not be enough?"
You stare into his orbs and your heart skips a beat at the raw vulnerability you find there. He's just as scared as you, if not more. Turns out, you aren't the only one who is bad at confronting feelings.
You crawl your way onto his lap, and he instantly wraps his arms around you, like you belong there. You take his hand into your own and press tender kisses onto his knuckles, and he watches you do it. Then you look up, and smile. That smile seems to be his undoing. Heeseung instantly leans down to kiss you fervently. You tangle your fingers in his hairs, kissing back just as deeply, and he groans into the kiss. The collision of your mouths is desperate, as if trying to convey all that's left unsaid.
"It's enough" You mumble into his mouth, and he swallows your words greedily.
#enhypen smut#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard headcanons#enhypen#heeseung smut#lee heesung x reader#lee heeseung smut#lee heeseung#heeseung x reader#heeseung angst#enhypen angst#jay x reader#park jongseong
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male reader x karina & irene
part 1 of two roses, by every other name
28k words
It goes without saying that Karina’s reputation is flawless.
Irene’s is remarkably not.
You're not even staunchly a romantic or anything. You just can’t be assed to manage the distinction between desire and distance. So when the dust settles, the best case scenario is the three of you going around telling people, "all of this is actually a true story by the way."
-
You don't need the extra helping of moody and foreboding, but the wind picks up enough to chill you to the spot.
It blows some of the longer, darker strands of Irene's hair into her eyes and she shivers, too, against the cold as she tucks it behind her ears. You’ve got both hands balled into your coat pockets, watching her pretend like she isn't about to say something you absolutely do not want to hear. Then, a sigh - the length of which is probably unwarranted. You can feel the frost on the air burning through your teeth as you face back out toward the taxi stand.
It’s gotten late and you're still waiting on an empty cab - you’re realizing there was never a conversation to be had in the first place.
“For what it’s worth,” Irene says, and there’s an indecent proposal just in the way she glances at you. “I had my eyes on her first.”
It’s all on account of some sort of moral quandary, or whatever nonsense Irene pretends to believe every time it comes up. A gross power imbalance; an issue of innocence and entitlement; a threat of abuse. Something, another thing, patriarchal expectations, blah, blah - she fudges around the details, but never ever cares who gets hurt. Not really.
And it’s doubtful Irene believes what she says, not to mention she’s skeptical anyone is even capable of zipping their way down Karina’s denim, working a pair of hands up the contour of her long legs, and making her pant and gasp hard enough that she forgets to breathe.
Well, supposedly - that is anyone, save the two of you. Nevermind the fact she’s always, always been off-limits.
The bottom line is she's a whole decade younger than either of you. This just for starters - only legal for alcohol by some narrow margin. Because between you and your fiancée there are all these rules: no coworkers, no labelmates, no close mutual friends, no personal assistants, no jealous ex-lovers, and absolutely none of her juniors. It’s in poor taste, among other things.
Also, just as straightforward: crossing any number of those lines has its own kind of appeal.
"Okay,” you say, “then maybe you should be the one to tell her we’re taking her home."
Irene's arching her eyebrows at you like a silent rebuttal. She smiles after a laugh, quick and easy, because it's what she's good at. It's what she knows. “Like you weren’t hoping she’d be here, too."
The ash Irene taps off the end of her cigarette falls to the ground like snow. Hitting the pavement as if it might punctuate the thought. That's a rare first mistake from someone like you, and then a second one from her: she thinks she’ll need to defend herself with an explanation, like she’d ever need to justify anything to you.
“Besides, she’s not waiting for me to ask.” There’s a curl to her mouth - and then, she adds, for your benefit, "she'd follow you anywhere."
The twisted irony is that the two of you could pick up any woman, anyone at all.
"I think it’s a discussion for another day," you tell her, serious. She laughs out loud.
"Which one? Who Karina wants, or that you're aching every bit as much as I am to spread her out on our bed and fuck her? Because I'm pretty sure we can both agree that at this point-"
Your palm curls around the nape of her neck with a touch of on-your-feet-thinking: one of these moments that lets Irene sit with the knowledge of how small she really is against you, her head against the collar of your coat, chin angled just so to look up at your face. And there's only a beat that passes between your fingers in her hair, tugging gently as her hand releases to your waist, her teeth clipping against the press of your lips, before a cab pulls up right next to you. You kiss her hard. It probably looks cinematic.
If for nothing other than to give Karina one less thing to overhear when she comes back outside to join you.
"Really not the time," you whisper right into the subtle twist of her grin. Her cigarette's gone out in the snowy mess, but Irene smirks deeper in response before throwing it onto the wet concrete. She grinds it beneath her boot like a reminder, her hand still firm on your hip.
"What, you don't think it’d make her day? Don’t think she'd want to hear all those kinds of thoughts running together through our heads?"
You pull Irene in closer. “She’s not you.”
-
For context - only so you’re aware how it all starts - it wasn’t actually New Year’s Eve, even though everyone had been drinking like it were.
Also for context, it’s not something you were strictly invited to either. Irene’s company holds this holiday party at the end of every year where all of their employees show up (read: idols; Irene likes to argue about work sometimes - to which you have never contested the value of her labor - but your brain tends to fuzz out in the middle, and instead you mostly just watch her pretty mouth in motion). All of the high-up executives and department heads bring their uptight wives and girlfriends to some restaurant ballroom for a cocktail reception that only really functions for name dropping, or influencing the media, or placing side bets on who is sleeping with the CFO - or whose mistress might show up unexpectedly and meet someone's wife face-to-face for the very first time.
It happens to someone Irene knows, once. You pray every year it will happen again.
Be that as it may, there are a plethora of other terrible ways to spend an evening and a half, but it’s all laid bare in Irene's contract - attendance being mandatory; enjoyment excessively optional.
And sure, it’s taken time, but you have gotten used to it: the industry, all of its excess, the inevitable display, the million and one things required of Irene that you, on the other hand, will simply never be able to relate to.
The machine’s so fine-tuned and tightly wound, like clockwork.
"Yeah, whatever," she had said, leaning her hip against your bathroom sink earlier in the day. Her dress laid out neatly across your bed, already pressed, set with her heels and jewelry, everything set on schedule to the point of absurdity.
And so it goes.
You can hear her brushing her teeth through the open door - and see her profile through the hand-swiped-fog on the mirror. She drags the toothbrush to the corner of her mouth: "And before you even ask, yes, you have to come. That's the deal. That's always been the deal - bored, or busy, or trapped talking to some social climbing board member who’s realized the liquor flows fast and free - I don’t wanna hear about it. You’ll be there."
"Uh-huh," you say, eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror.
"Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she adds, spits, and lets the faucet run, “but this one’s shaping up to be a really long night.”
You watch the meticulous effort to pull her dark hair back into a low, neat bun as she turns and comes back into the bedroom, tossing her hair clip onto the bed to reclaim later.
“So I guess, pace yourself or something.”
"Ever the salesman, Irene," you say, facetious.
"Um, saleswoman, thank you." Her words are slightly muffled by a silk tank top pulled on over her head, then down the flat length of her body until it hits the tops of her thighs.
It’s not a matter of opinion that she'll look gorgeous in the stilettos, the dress - those earrings that catch light wherever it dares touch her. She'll smile her practiced grin. It'll probably taste sour after the hundredth person asks how long it's been and she tells them she can't remember. But then look - Irene here, still perfectly disheveled: her damp-darkened hair sticking to the porcelain skin of her neck, skin washed free of makeup. She’s beautiful. In a plain and simple way, simple-but-good. Even with the tight little scowl she shoots your direction. It’s a look she has to know could launch a thousand ships; could start a real, actual war; though you're far too charming to know how to fight - you’ve never seen the appeal.
Irene's teeth tug at the corner of her lip like she knows you'd probably end up dying in it. She puts forward this unassuming, nonchalant, “hey.”
She muses it right into a laugh. Covers her genuine smile with her fingers.
"Hey," is how you answer, always.
You’re noticing, now, the strap of her top has fallen just down the petite slope of her shoulder. You want to get your fingers beneath it. Maybe get her back in the shower. You’re never too picky.
And here: an unspoken demand, the thing that always gets you about her - while Irene stands in front of you, her finger looped between the top buttons of your shirt to draw you close. The bow of her lip perked ever-so-slightly, this soft pucker - all pretty in pink. "Before I slip into this dress, you’re going to push me against something sturdy and kiss me until I'm dizzy," she instructs, calm and methodical.
"A lot," you continue for her. You nod seriously, for a moment. "Dizzying."
She closes her eyes and leans in, and you lean into her, too. "Yeah, exactly," she ends up murmuring under a hot breath. "So, get to it.”
And so it goes, and so it goes.
-
"Have a drink," someone keeps saying.
As a matter of fact, they all do: four shots together - or one old-fashioned, or two vodka seltzers, or three of these mystery concoctions that come in a tall-stemmed glass you didn’t actually catch the name of, and jesus, it fucking reeks of prosecco. You pace yourself, within reason. You really do.
Irene gets elusive under the surface, which is to say, she doesn't change at all - not even at the edges.
And though everyone is here to be seen, only a few actually do any of the talking. Irene has it covered - you do your time.
Happy New Year, sorta. You wait it out.
-
She tastes like everything sweet, strong on her heels and sharper on her tongue - and sometimes, it’s not the best mix, given all you can manage is the touch and scent of Irene without actually getting at the insides of her thighs or that tempting stretch of skin under her ear, her neck, down to her chest.
This much, and she has no complaint - hardly seems surprised or inconvenienced - to you stepping her into the wall like it's a matter of instinct.
She just sighs, a short huff. "Don't miss these kinds of parties," she then confesses, right into your mouth, her warm exhale filling you whole. The sounds of people laughing and champagne glasses clicking nearby, a new song starting up, it's all an unnecessary backdrop, and Irene isn't distracted by a single bit of it.
Character, setting, scene; it’s all rather textbook, no?
You know what the sounds mean, the soft hums, the lingering touches, the firm press of your palm into the dip of her waist or the slender line of her back. She knows where all the cameras are because she knows everything that anyone could possibly ever want to know, such as the fact that this empty stairwell is a perfect place to start, that there isn't a real plan as to where this might go - or when it should end.
And you should know where not to press - or bite or grab or leave a mark - not in some liminal space, nor some vacant practice-room, not beneath a desk, not behind a curtain. No, not here, cloaked in shadow and secrecy, another scandal in the making. Not that the knowledge stops you from testing out the lines, from drawing little patterns up Irene's waist, slipping one hand along the barest skin where her dress has hitched up along her thigh. To a boundary, the low pitch of her voice, some suggestion like, "not here, are you serious?" mumbled across your lips like it really doesn't matter what gets said or does not.
She’s pinned so properly, so precisely, that the discord between her gentle coaxing, and your hard, bruising edge - that sheer incongruity between what you should do and what you should not - can make the adrenaline spike.
She kisses you harder - and harder, and harder. She catches the small sigh you let out. She kisses you breathless.
You can’t shake the feeling that you’re wasting an opportunity, given that you’re both dressed to the nines and are usually more homebody than anything else. Isn’t that the irony of fame? You sign up for an escape, and spend your life running away.
Irene eventually sinks back into the soles of her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, and she smiles so easy. She tugs at the cuffs of your jacket, sets your collar flat and proper.
"I'm thinking," you hear her say, taking stock for herself, the flush high in her cheeks, the tousled sort-of-curls now bared, "in half an hour, if you feel like leaving early, we could, oh, I don't know - escape?"
Escape to a bed with a door that locks, you assume she means. Irene wants; you deliver - however she'd like.
“Sounds tempting,” you tell her. She laughs against your shoulder. "Are you waiting on someone else to sweep you off your feet, maybe? Another offer?"
"Uh, always," she scoffs. It's the little things, confidence, and certainty, the honest-in-practice; how her palms sit soft and secure, cupping the angle of your jaw, one hand, now, toying with the knot of your tie like she's contemplating just how it might fall off of you later. Irene shrugs, leaning her weight back against the wall.
She taps a finger to her lips. Ends up saying, very solemn: "Thirty minutes."
As if you had any intention of absconding without her.
-
Irene holds true to her word - she catches you on the second to last pass around the banquet room. Some executive with a slack mouth is just launching into what sounds to be a spiel about a merger - it's unimportant, not well-versed, so Irene sidles up to you, and immediately steals your attention. It doesn't bother you in the least. She curls her finger into the cuff of your jacket sleeve, and without really being prompted or asked - and only, probably, due to the clear discomfort she has being there with anyone else - she begins dragging you out of the room; you, her ticket out of hell.
"I'm so sorry," Irene dons the industry smile and is probably charming. It's difficult for you to tell. You follow her blindly. "So sorry," she tells someone else as you exit, just before you both disappear entirely, "We're leaving. But, we'll see you next year, promise!"
A real celebrity.
The two of you suddenly a duo - and for everyone’s safety, the way it should probably always ought to be - here’s how it’s all supposed to go:
You, standing almost amidst a bank of snow gathered at the curb, your coat fanned out around Irene, shivers racking up her slight frame. All hidden just enough that if anyone were to notice where your hand ends up arriving at the narrow of her waist, they might think: 'it's not really any of my business,' and look away.
Her, curled beneath your touch - even the single press of your fingers over the small of her back as a stranger pulls a car up to the curb; or, the pull of you that ensures the driver can't actually see what you're both up to, what you're hiding; the little reach she makes into your pocket for a lighter, smiling appreciatively as she presses her cold face to the crook of your arm, your jaw, the juncture of your neck; a safe space.
“So.” Irene will look up at you, pale moonlight gathered in her lashes. She’ll make another face: this thousand kilowatt grin or her brow raising - sharp, quick, there-then-gone. She'll turn the lighter over in her hand once, twice, and say, “how long has it been since we’ve done anything social?”
You’ll know it’s not what she means, but you’ll offer her the out anyway: "could go downtown - there's a place you've probably never been to. Might even play your style of music, if you're really lucky."
Irene will arch her eyebrow as she raises the cigarette to her mouth, lit up before you know it.
"Is that right?" she'll say, dismissive, a smoky tendril curling up over city neon and catching starlight.
You're no stranger to what’s actually being suggested - an unspoken sort of arrangement. All because Irene sees herself as being above, hiding her intentions in euphemism, tact; in long, slow drags; in lilting lashes - while she's fully and shamelessly aware there's nothing virtuous about it.
Who the hell else could make it sound dignified, pretty even: ménage à trois.
Then, you’ll do your part. You’ll help interpret: another girl, gorgeous and probably unclothed, another bad decision, or two, the three of you finding yourselves back in your apartment where Irene will not hesitate to run her tongue up the side of a sweat-glistened neck, to tilt her head and whisper out a mantra of, honey, sweetie, anybody ever tell you how good you look between a woman’s legs? Or, fuck, let’s get you out of those jeans, let me take you all in, how the fuck have we not gotten our hands on you before?
Which means the question you really ought to be asking sounds more like, “maybe we can invite someone over?”
You’ll meet her eyes as they flick up - a lazy expression, easy to read. "Bingo," she’ll say, blowing smoke and even more caution to the wind.
Almost to a fault, everything she does draws attention. Every fool with a blog and a camera posted outside of an event will have her labeled on-sight. You can already see the headline - because the only thing worse than everyone thinking you're the antagonist is looking the part. The imagery, red carpet, sexy evening dress, sultry, regal. The caption, Bae Joohyun - they use her government name like they really know her - sulking in smoke, or thirty flirty and thriving? below a thumbnail of her holding the cigarette, with your suit jacket draped over her shoulders. She's a total tabloid darling. Irene the temptress, or Irene, ice in her veins, or Irene - "How does she look so fucking gorgeous without makeup?!" or "Do I wanna hate her, or wanna be her? @RedFlavor_ROYAL," or "In every shot I feel like Irene has me staring into her soul."
Add that to the fact the girl’s utterly shrouded in myth.
Everyone running amuck with speculation; she's the girl-next-door, she’s the fantasy-in-real-life, she's someone everyone could see themselves fucking - she’s the heroine they say, the villain, the perfect wife, the one-that-got-away. They never do decide.
Though there’s only one opinion she’ll concern herself with, and only on occasion: yours.
Her fingers will come in the dark to trail feather-light from your collarbone, between the rise and fall of your shirt buttons, before pressing open palmed to your chest to still right there, and she's such a pretty thing in the plain black dress, all yours and very much in the mood - which you'll already have reason to know, in part from having felt your way around her no more than a hour prior, but also just the way Irene's been looking at you from beneath her dark lashes all evening, that subtle predatory gleam in her eyes.
You’ll hold her close. Irene will have the audacity to comment, “love you,” in this delicate little whisper, quiet like it could go either way - affection or gratitude. Maybe a touch of both.
A car will shortly arrive, pulling up to the curb with snow melting under its tires, headlights in your eyes, and then finally, in no particular order, your heart hammering: the click of the lighter, the falling ash, the sweet easy laugh, the crunch of ice under foot as she steps down beside you, the soft sweep of your arm.
You have no complaints about the proposal. A lack of argument or dispute is basically the same thing as consent, isn't it? For all intents and purposes, as a whole, it's really kind of a win-win:
Irene needs variety, which you're well aware of. It's only natural for someone who can have anything they want. And, sure, you happen to be a willing participant when it comes to satisfying the occasional whim.
So - the conversation will follow you right into the backseat of the cab, simply to iron out the details.
“Tall. Beautiful. Soft, soft, soft - like cashmere, a luxury brand," Irene will have one heel off and her knee braced up into the back seat while the other leg extends across your thighs, fingers running along your coat collar to make idle circles against the exposed skin there. "Or, at the very least, someone with a little more bend to their character - you know how those prim and proper types always get a bit lost in you.”
"And wouldn’t you know."
It’ll sound smooth, probably. Irene will roll her eyes.
“So, okay,” you'll return to her, right after instructing the cabbie how to get to Irene's place. None of the implications here are lost on you. “You have anyone particular in mind?”
"Hm, I’m thinking."
You can picture it, roughly: Irene's whole body sunk into the dark corner of the seat - one leg idling over the other. Her foot bouncing at your thigh. She has her heels in one hand, earrings in the other.
She’ll look wistfully out the window; the intermittent flashes of city lights casting her face in different hues. The curve of her jaw; the stately line of her nose; her thick black lashes - composition and subject. It's this kind of attention to detail that the cameras scramble to pick up. It’d be better if they got it for the right reasons.
You’ll pull out your phone. Start the usual scroll from the top of your contacts. The girls you know, the girls you don't, the ones who might be awake or who definitely are, regardless of time of day or night.
Irene will finally perk up, gleaming.
Someone cute, she might say, only because she'd rather not admit, someone like me. There's limits to her vanity insofar as her taste - in all sorts of things.
But she does like the idea of it. Someone young and pretty and impressionable; someone naive, or tiny and helpless; it's never difficult to find the girl who will fawn over her - all wide-eyed and doe-faced the instant Irene floats her fingers across her collarbone, smirking - when she starts at the zipper at the back of her neckline and says, "we’re going to see how wet I can get you," without missing a beat. Someone who will eventually say please when Irene gets a little stern and tells her, "ask me what I'm gonna do to you," in a rasp so smoky that it would make the cigarette seem blasé.
But that, you suppose, is the nature of Irene. A touch domineering. A little more than just a pretty face.
She always takes, but she takes gently - a push here, a pull there, she knows people will give her anything.
It will be more obvious when there's a small voice trembling between the two of you, twisted up in your sheets and simpering with the gentle sort of affection that Irene deals so expertly: two fingers sliding up, pressing down. Curling, beckoning. Slow and tender, without giving up that she's looking for any soft spot; a weak point. Some vulnerability to exploit.
It'll be right after whichever plaything of the hour pulls her lips off yours, off the length of your fingers - or when she unfastens her mouth from the hard shape of your cock with an obnoxiously loud pop: "do you guys do this kind of thing often?"
And Irene, without even an ounce of hesitation, will rip right into the sheer of her stockings, letting out an aggressively casual laugh. She’ll plant a kiss somewhere deep. Say, "oh, honey," as she nuzzles into the crease of her thigh. "We're pretty new to this too."
Everyone, just - believes her. For the same reason you suppose they believe she's perfect. She’s good, really good at all this.
In the taxi, Irene's foot will continue to tap against your leg, until you're stopping her by covering her knee with your hand. As for now, the evening will remain all but written in stone. You'll run a hand through your hair, you’ll lean an elbow against the window - the whole while, ignoring the sudden itch between your shoulder blades at the thought of something else. At the thought of all the other girls who'll take an instant liking to her. Who wouldn't.
The light will change. The intersection will empty. The radio will turn to static.
You'll eventually offer up a name like, "Jennie Kim," among others. Moving alphabetically down your contacts list. Taking you a long while to make it through the 'K's.
"Hm." Irene's soft hum of disapproval, non-committal. "Are you asking, or telling?"
The difference won't matter. "I'm suggesting," you'll say.
You’ll watch how Irene turns the name over in her mouth a few times before smiling - how she knows, there's the smallest part of you that has her held in a certain light. "Maybe," she'll say, tapping her phone against her cheek in the contemplation of whether or not this is a tentative no or a provisional yes - when really what she'll avoid an answer with is, "aren’t we a little tired of Jen?"
Tough to say.
Good, sweet, and just naive enough to get twisted up between you, in her case. Oh, Jennie’s the type of girl - you'll stuff your cock in her pretty little cunt while leaning into her, taking her arms and pinning them to the base of her spine, so she can't reach and can't claw and can't make an utter fucking wreck of herself. The two of you have known Jennie for too long, is what will strike you then. And a moment later, the idea of sinking into her ass from behind with your palm flat and warm against her hip and your voice husky and deep in the way she likes, and saying, god, fuck, Jen, you’d let me do anything wouldn’t you, you’d let me cum in here too.
And - she would, really.
She wouldn't even complain. Her face would be pressed so firmly against Irene's thighs, and she would whimper, not beg. Even though you know it’s what Irene might prefer; how it makes her look real cute - cheeks stained crimson as the syllables roll around her tongue before being forced out into the open.
"I think she's great," you might say out loud, lowkey.
And in a voice that is louder than strictly necessary, Irene will cut in: "she lets you finish in her ass, and then not even three minutes later she'll say it was the best lay of her life, of course you do."
It’ll make the cab driver clear his throat.
"What you’re saying is ‘no.’"
Irene will frown, thoughtful, but not conceding anything - perhaps she means hold onto that thought for now. If nothing else sounds particularly enticing, we'll call it a maybe. "I’m saying: Jennie is. I don't know."
You can hear the end of her sentence: not quite good enough. Not this time around, but someday, sure, someday soon.
"And for the record," Irene will follow, casual, with a dismissive hand wave. "Just because you got to her first doesn't mean she's ever liked you more."
The few that fall afterwards will never make the cut. Irene will turn them all down. Jisoo - no, sorry, look, she's so, so pretty, Irene will be trying to explain, gesturing in a way that's hard to interpret. "But a little too stuck up for my tastes."
You've been speaking in code for years. She means: way, way, way too straight.
"The blonde though," Irene will try right after that. “Daisy, or Lily, oh god something or another, what was her name-”
"Um, do you mean Rosé?”
“Yeah.” Irene will sink back into the leather, sipping down a memory or two and shifting her skirt up the top of her thighs.
You'll consider the angle. Your options: Rosé on her knees right inside the foyer of your apartment, Irene's hands wrapped tightly in her hair, controlling the rhythm. The way she gets her fingers spread under Irene's knees and draws her forward, pushing up with her eager, prying mouth - licks and licks, nosing against the heat of Irene's pussy until she’s gasping and locking her hands around the younger girl's head to steady the jerk of her hips.
Then, you'll laugh out loud. Because you know, Rosie isn’t anywhere close to straight enough.
And the back-and-forth of what-ifs and could-bes will follow. An endless string, a laundry list. Where Irene makes a face for every name, every suggestion: too messy, or too innocent, or too sweet, or too boring, or not nearly shy or gullible enough, or whatever other bizarre caveat she finds to slot between all of her impassioned criticisms. The cabbie will be shaking his head at some point too, because the question hangs over the taxi at large:
What exact criteria could possibly be good enough for the distinguished tastes and sensibilities of Bae Irene?
-
(The truth is: it doesn’t go like that at all.)
-
Enter then, Yu Jimin.
The run-in starts there, downstairs, out standing in a pool of warm, yellow light. The snow flurrying about in the glow of a street lamp - melting into where her smoothed curtain of jet-black hair spills over her shoulder and trickles down her sleeve. She looks a little cold, but not noticeably shivering. There's a red flush to the exposed length of her legs, between a pair of knee-high boots and the short hem of the coat itself. The stockings underneath offer little in the way of wintery protection - nor do the little bows that rest at the the bands of elastic around her soft, pale thighs - though it's obvious to anyone who's looking why she'd choose to wear them.
An assay into form over function. She's never cared for pragmatism.
But the lines around her are pristine, a clean-cut of shadow and substance; you take a step onto the curb, feeling yourself fall right into the foreground.
Look: you know Karina. You both do. Enough to recognize where it’s calmest before a storm.
Irene eventually calls out her name into the silence, and there is a split-second where her fingers reflexively wrap around the crook of your elbow. Almost possessive.
A car rushes by. Karina turns with her ungloved hand holding her cellphone to her ear and she's fucking gorgeous as can be, always pinning you with these big, unapologetic eyes - strikingly and somewhat deceptively innocent beneath her sharp brows. A breathy huff in response; she's otherwise unaffected.
Her shoulders shrug in easy dismissal; a quirk of the corners of her mouth. She slips her phone back in the pocket of her pea-coat. "Oh, how we all doing?"
Not for long, the question lingers.
"Fine," Irene finally replies, though her voice doesn't rise above a disinterested murmur.
"Easier, right? To fight for breath down here than it is up there," she says, pointing her gaze up high into the rafters of the building, and in a lot of ways, you realize, she's just like Irene - sweet, charming, this uncanny ability to make you think she's close, when she isn't actually looking to share anything. When she hasn't exactly decided that she likes you or anything at all.
You squint slightly. Take in where her silhouette appears darker against the backdrop of city lights, blending with the velvety black, bleeding into the ink-smudged night sky.
"There's certainly something to be said for flying under the radar at these things," she continues, taking one step closer towards you as if for comfort. Or privacy - to guard against anyone who might walk by.
"You've still got it easy," Irene says, "that, and everyone thinks you're too pretty to go after. No one even seems to consider the idea, it’s insufferable."
"Jealous?" Her tone is playful. There’s a smirk she’s suppressing - until she can’t hold it in: an unexpected, stunning smile, dimple and all. This incongruously kind face.
Oh, and listen, no one gets it better than Irene.
"No," Irene exhales, hot. “Not at all.” You can see where the thin plume of her breath hangs over her like a cloud for a moment, thinking, before dissipating against the harshness of a frigid December breeze.
"Really." She smiles at you again. Makes a sound that could be a laugh, you don’t know, the wind takes it, far away.
"Are you out here waiting for someone?" you have to ask.
"Loaded question." Karina purses her lips for a moment. Her long eyelashes blink once, twice. "Because, I dunno, aren't we all?"
"Some of us more than others." Irene speaks quietly, moreso to herself than anyone else - but somehow her voice carries.
"Cheeky," Karina says, and this time she does laugh. "No. I'm waiting for a cab. I've had one hell of a night, and no interest in spending the rest of it in some rising socialite's bed, doubters excluded, because - look, I'm happy for you guys, I guess? You're gonna get married," she claps slowly, slow and mocking, slow enough that Irene rolls her eyes, "-or, the two of you will make a statement saying that you are - either way it sounds fucking exhausting - congratulations to you both. But seriously, congrats."
This is sorta how you've always known her.
Faintly-hinted secrets, flirty half-truths. Her love life is an utter wreck, but that’s not something you’re supposed to know. So that's all she gives, which is more or less how everyone knows her. It's the only way to survive, probably, in a world of glitter and glamour, when everyone's vying to look, to feel, to take, and take, and take. Irene knows how suffocating it can be - she doesn’t lie about it, not to you, which is the only reason you're so well-versed.
Point being, no one wants to admit to any cracks in the fantasy; the gold too shiny, the surface too slick, the mirror too smooth for that illusion to slip.
"So go grab a guy with a half-decent smile and get him to buy you a drink about it," Irene suggests, derisive, "arch your back, push your tits out, get creative. I doubt it'll be much trouble at all."
Karina looks down, back up - with a slight chew of her lip, saying, "you just have me beat in all the important ways, I suppose. You got it in the bag, no real competition."
Irene is smiling, but her expression is unimpressed; it doesn’t mean much, really, to be her friend, her colleague, or worse, her opponent. Irene is calm like an evening in July, a low, cool, languid feeling. "I don't mean to be a prick, but, aren't you a little young to be so jaded?"
"Gosh," Karina’s grin doesn’t change, but does turn a touch wicked, like she's biting back. "I'd hate to be around when you do mean to be a prick, but maybe we'll find out - you know, down the line, someday.”
Irene tuts softly. It sounds patronizing. "Please, you'll have to forgive me - for mistaking you for someone more aware of how the rest of us work."
“You're one to talk, Irene."
“Careful,” Irene warns.
"What, you gonna set me straight?"
"Right." The way the word rolls off Irene's tongue, slow, thick, bitter, like molasses; like the coffee she has when she's tired, like the cigarette she swears left and right she’s cutting out and the vodka she needs you to reach for in the upper cabinets, like the person she is after midnight when you've let her keep drinking to find the limits to her inhibition. You understand Irene too well. And no matter what anyone says, you will not have the facts wrong.
There's no kindness to the way she laughs. None.
She tilts her head to you, grinning: an honest grin, her favorite thing - inimitable, unique, and hers alone; her version of cruelty is what will always have them doubting. You hold her gaze as she adds, "of all things, right now - wouldn’t you just love to set her straight?"
-
Depending on who you ask, you’ll get different results.
Irene insists you kissed Karina first, probably out there in the snow - god knows how cliche would that be.
She also insists that it was you who suggested that “there’s a lot more sense in splitting a cab,” and then minutes later, “please, it'd be no trouble, just let us pay. Our place is five blocks that way," and Irene - being Irene - mentioning it's actually quite a bit further, but hey, it isn’t worth splitting hairs over. And it's not worth explaining - she shuts you up with another kiss, pressing her weight hard up against you, the arm she slings around your neck.
Then in a sort of mythologized version of the timeline, it's you who makes the proposition - invites Karina upstairs, with the charm that Irene knows is usually reserved for her benefit alone: that slight tick of the brow, the delicate slant of your mouth, the confidence you seem to have in thinking no one will ever say no, no matter how brusque the invitation-
"You two are unbelievable. Is this really your standard procedure?" Karina asks, once you're through the door, or maybe during a bout of smalltalk in the kitchen. Something flirtatious; and suggestive, and maybe a little offhand. A pointed glance downwards, back up. All it really will take. "You get some girl into your home and they're just so overwhelmed and dazzled and in love, they can't even make eye contact for longer than a second? Because that's quite a line," a soft huff, the exhale that seems to carry the faintest note of a sigh. You could call it wistful. Just this side of romantic; very attractive.
“That’s more or less the gist of it,” you offer.
“You’d be surprised.” Irene is lingering on it, back against the counter beside you, laughing. "Some people are more than happy to be swept off their feet."
"Imagine that. If that's how this is meant to go, then tell me," and Karina lifts her chin, a breath drawn slow and deliberate, "what exactly do prince and princess charming do next?"
Consider that Karina’s interpretation of events is closer to reality: no pretense. She is not drunk, and in this story, she never will be.
But it's the slow-burn thing, the rivals-to-lovers thing, the sexual-tension-through-conflict thing, the white-hot-blistering-rage matter gone awry. Not a series of happy accidents, but a result of intentional circumstance - this slow arc of descent. She knows exactly how Irene is tightly wound, and which thread to pull to make everything start to unravel. She'd flirt with you right under her nose - say things in this obnoxiously girlish tone, pout a lot, lean into so much innuendo it becomes impossible to miss the meaning, or the sincerity behind it.
If you had to guess - Karina’s been pining since forever, since Irene accidentally etched her DNA into the girl upon saying, carelessly, that she’d always seen some part of herself in Karina. Probably around the time Irene wrapped a palm over an expanse of bare thigh, just beneath the hem of her skirt, telling her, you're getting way too pretty for your own good.
Doesn’t matter who you are, that’ll fuck you up for real.
And it's not just how she looks at Irene when she thinks no one is watching either; swings and roundabouts, Karina probably can’t keep the thought of you sprawled out over Irene’s petite little frame, or Irene kissing you hard while wrapped around you tight. Your hand, her hand, intertwined and picturesque, sliding down Irene's stomach. Together - and so very without her - fingertips stroking lightly over Irene’s clit, gently dipping inside her.
Irene is not stupid. She picks up on everything, and there's a lot to unpack:
"Can you believe it? Minjeong just asked me if I've ever kissed a girl before," Karina had said to you once, ages ago, between a workout or dance practice, something or another - she was wearing a loose-fit tank top and very intent on showing off. She seemed then to be taking mental note of the face Irene put on, the look of someone trying to hold in an aneurysm.
“Well,” you played along, because you’re not really without blame here either. "Have you?"
"Oh my god." Karina knew what she awas doing, the playful slap to the chest, the lingering touches she’d have on you every chance she could get - total fucking coquette - anything to get a rise out of you, your fiancée. She hushed her voice down to this strategic whisper that Irene could just overhear: "of course not."
You better believe Irene broke her composure not soon afterwards, after Karina made her exit.
"Do not fuck her," she demanded, firm, "I don't care how good you think she might be in bed, or what she would probably let you get away with."
You remember the knit of her brow.
“Do not.”
You’re sighing, profoundly. The memory - not to mention its shocking clarity - has put a smug sort of satisfaction into your bones, indulging. The nip to Karina's jaw, a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder. A hand tracing down the curve of her hips, under the guise of helping her settle between the cushions of the couch. You feel like you catch the color flooding her cheeks. Then, Irene, her pretty little shadow: the steady presence over her other shoulder.
"What." Karina sounds defensive when Irene pulls her lips away, but the hand she has buried in Irene's hair doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. "Are we going to pretend for a minute I don't see the way you're both looking at me right now?"
"Don't be stupid, darling, of course not." Irene leans up close again. Kisses up her neck, behind her ear, and coos, "the two of us, you just seemed like you were needing someone, that's all," and then whispers the words, barely audible: "I mean look, who wouldn't want the three of us right now?"
Karina hums. "Ah, so - you think I deserve to have a little fun."
"Maybe," she draws it out a little longer.
Your hands dip below her knees, running over the silk-slick surface, tugging at the frills lining her thighs - feeling up over the outline of where her body curves under her dress. Over the dark pattern printed across the front.
Karina swallows visibly, her head dropping back against the armrest, the couch cushion; by the way she shudders slightly and starts breathing, you realize that it's probably been a while since she's had much experience being in a position this helpless. You draw your fingers lightly across the bareness of her skin, right as Irene finds that sensitive spot just where her neck slopes to her collarbone. You trace along the fabric until you have her squirming beneath you both.
She sucks in a breath as Irene drags a touch right over the obvious seam, across the expanse of her hip, and despite your fiancée being a tad forward -
"Both of you should know I'm not that type of girl. Who puts out so easily-"
"Likewise," Irene practically sneers, not missing a beat and threading her fingers beneath her jaw, feeling her pulse against the pad of her thumb.
"Yeah, well. If this isn't a setup, then, what-"
“A setup.” Irene breathes the word out, contemptuous, which is almost as if she says yes, you figured it out, and she starts to lean in closer - the distance between the two of them now negligible as her mouth tightens with her derision. "That is awfully conceited of you."
"Ha."
You choose right there to run your palm between her thighs and cup at the front of her pussy through the skirt of her dress, squeezing tightly. There has to be an element of good cop, bad cop to this whole routine, and you'd be remiss not to participate in the former. Irene's glare is starting to become pretty intimidating.
"The way I see it," you begin, and it's so gentle. Easy to slip through, but easy enough to grip - no threat, or indication that she should stop rocking forward to the motion of your fingers, toying idly. "There's no catch. Only: Irene calls the shots. If you end up with a crush, or worse, think you're in love," a light squeeze to illustrate the point, the dig of nails, not too rough, but definitely drawing attention. "You've gotta walk it off.”
Karina just runs her tongue across her lips, sighing.
“No strings attached, no special treatment. Or anything."
"Oh." Karina is looking straight at you, dazed - as your fingers work harder, picking up where her hips started rolling a second before. She licks her lips. "You're telling me that I'm going to get fucked so thoroughly here, that it's gonna be a problem."
"Actually," you pull away, pushing her dress up so you can touch up ever higher this time. Rooting between her soft thighs. "I can't make any guarantees. You'll need to convince us first."
There's a laugh, from a spot inside her diaphragm - and yeah, there's no denying the reality here. She's nervous; or excited; or nervous-excited. Karina just lets it pass, an exaggerated sound in her throat, before gasping on an exhale of breath: "convince you to fuck me?"
"Between us, we've kissed our fair share of pretty girls in the heat of the moment," Irene supplies.
Karina laughs. Starts saying, "in that case, can I start by confessing that this whole exchange has left me pretty fucking wet-"
You slip one finger down the rise of her panties, this lacy little number she probably picked out with sordid fantasy in mind.
"Oh god," she says, voice drowned in her throat, husky, and sultry - it’s really hard not to appreciate the girl, like this - and then she closes her eyes, saying it again, "oh, yeah, like - like that. Okay, thank you."
Irene puts a hot kiss into her lips, and a subjugating silence stills over the living room, softening around her small voice, her breathing. Everything comes together so seamlessly, so effortlessly:
The click of Irene’s heels against hardwood, these soft sounds of wet tongues twisting and bodies grinding, Karina's face, buried somewhere under Irene's chin, letting out the cutest moan. Irene's helping the rest of the dress up over Karina's ass, then up past her waist, pulling down the scalloped elastic of her stockings. She grabs hold of her hips, feeling the draw of her curves there - you watch how your other half does the thing she does best, the thing where she strips a girl down to nothing like she's doing them a favor.
"Pretty," Irene appraises her naked body - not her face, not her mind, not her ambition or the strength of her determination, or god forbid, something banal like her personality, but, "fuck, look at you, look at this figure," her palm skates along the plane of her stomach, "so pretty."
It could be the insinuation: Irene is ready to reduce the girl down to a heap of jumbled nerves; to tears, probably - given half the chance. Like she's telling her a body as flawless and well-manicured and sweetly receptive to being toyed with as hers needs to get absolutely wrecked, among other things.
(Fucked so deeply, and to the point of utter exhaustion - the point is that she forgets her own name.)
Irene knows just by looking, her eyes tracing down each and every one of Karina’s curves like they’re taking inventory. It could be as simple as a handprint seared into her ass, a stinging red stain etched into her soft, creamy white skin, marking the insides of her thighs, her beautiful fucking tits - oh, the things the two of you could do.
"How do you want it, exactly?" Irene's eyes are dancing around her face, in her stare, darting down, then back up. "How, baby."
Karina smiles against Irene’s lips like she knows the answer, the perfect one. She must already have the script prepared. It's no stretch of the imagination: "anything, as long as it means you both keep looking at me."
Because maybe it's down to the pure physicality of it all. Something Karina's been waiting to feel, desperate to have, for some time - as you set into action, dismantling any pretense that you weren’t about to devour the heat of her aching cunt, from running touches all over her slick pussy. It’s a strong theory, you figure, from the visceral response you get when you get start to fuck her, when you slide a finger inside: tight and snug, and so unbelievably wet.
“Oh,” she breathes out, and it sounds sated and needy all at once.
You make sure to glance at her face before pressing another into her. All the way past the knuckles. She looks lost to the feeling, the pleasure; her expression gone hazy-eyed as you start fucking into her with a few steady pumps of your wrist - slow and then faster, then faster again - fucking into her with increasing urgency.
Just to keep her gasping, panting.
Like a woman starved for it.
"God," Irene kisses softly into her mouth. Her hand tangled in Karina's hair, twisting strands between her fingers and tugging just shy of something painful, "you're really sensitive, aren't you?"
Karina nods, slightly. It’s all she can manage.
You have a soft spot for girls who will spread themselves open like they can't wait, but still end up flustered over how your lips ghost across aching flesh. Who can't even form the words - asking for this, and that, and a million little things; and look at Karina - blushing, her eyes fluttering closed, and digging her nails into the couch the moment you finally put your hot mouth on her. Her entire body is drawn taut like a live wire.
"Relax," you coax, speaking more to the muscle - her legs tensed, and knees pulled tightly together. You know just where to place your lips to make her go to pieces, but it's worth suspending pleasure - your own, and Irene's, who won't admit that this sorta turns her on too - so Karina's face might open up, so the tilt of her brow can slack, and the twist of her expression can soften. Like it's the only chance she'll ever get.
When you place your palm across Karina's stomach to steady her and look up, Irene has started peeling off her own clothes, down to nothing but the little panties underneath. That garter-belt thing that makes her ass look like she was sculpted straight out of clay - a reminder she's always worth your time, no matter what mood she's in, or whether or not she'll eventually let you take the lead. She's lifting herself on the couch to throw off the little slip of a dress, the high heels. “Baby," she purrs, teasing, maybe to distract from how she’s gone from dragging circles with her fingernails across Karina’s collarbones to kneading roughly at her tits. And she might even insert something she's never actually had a chance to confess out loud, or even consider much, like: she's been dying to know what Karina's face will scrunch up into, or what her eyes will look like, tears stained across her lashes while you fuck her within an inch of her life. The image you’ll find when you find all those spots that drive a girl wild.
Your mouth drags over the slick, her lips, her clit, and down again - as if to illustrate the point.
"That feels - so," she starts, and bites off the rest of the words.
Irene grabs hold of Karina's hands. Presses their mouths back together, and bites Karina's bottom lip. Kissing the words out of her, the sentences that start in half measures and stifled gasps:
"- so, good, oh. Do - ah, fuck. Oh, god-"
-and vanish somewhere in Irene's mouth.
"-oh, do that again. Oh my god. There. Just - lick- please, keep fucking, exactly that-"
And pay close attention, because here now is how she slips: from the image she maintains for the cameras, the audiences, her admirers, her competition, her detractors, the ones who mean it, the ones who don't mean a damn thing; the girl who shies away from anything overtly sexual, or sensual, or remotely hedonistic; and doesn't act as though she too, just as much as anyone else, needs someone to fuck her stupid - as if it's an eventuality of her own humanity, instead of a concept she's learned to scorn.
Irene picks up on the distinction, all too familiar with the look filling out across Karina’s angelic features.
She ghosts her thumbnail across Karina’s nipple. Tries out: "why don't you make her cum, baby, right here, on the couch.” A look at you, a quick tilt of the chin. Then, her tongue peeking from behind her teeth, and her voice dropping, "just so you can tell Minjeong, or whoever ends up asking - 'you have no idea how good they fuck.'"
And just like that - with Karina’s body laid out beneath Irene’s hands, your mouth - you simply fucking ruin her.
You both do.
Until it's only a mess of whines and shuddering limbs and that lovely look: pure agony. So helpless. So utterly exposed.
Karina hiccups something incoherent - you’re doubling down. You’re working your touches through the torrid mess between her legs. Her pussy is shimmering wet and hot and every bit as pretty as she is. Then, the motion of your tongue, the slow, heavy flick back and forth, relentless and constant - dragging back and forth, keeping her right up, riding the wave. Back and forth, back and forth.
"Oh my fucking god." Karina can only gasp, jaw-slacked open.
Overwhelmed and blissed-out and suddenly awash in this searing and wondrous sensation that the only real way she's able to make sense of is by twisting her hands in your hair and pulling you flush against her cunt while she cums on your lips.
"Ah - you're fucking kidding me. Please, don't stop, please don't-" Karina has her head turned. Voice pitched right into Irene's shoulder. You fuck her on two fingers until she’s got the heel of her palm pressed firm into her forehead, and she’s starting to jerk her hips into your face. Stutter her breathing, her words: “I, I, I- fucking - what the fuck, you’re making me - jesus fucking christ."
Like some delicate and intricate piece of her had just been irreparably snapped. Broken. You hear her expletive-laden screams - and think, better her, than either of you.
And all the way through every last part of it, cresting, waning, quivering, the tremble of her thighs snapped shut against your ears, the grind of her teeth, and each little choked out gasp-
“I'm… fucking cumming.”
Karina spends the entirety of her first orgasm between the two of you, heaving.
The look on her face alone, just from what parts you can see, has your lower gut clenched - it goes from anguished pleasure, mouth pulled wide and brows wound high and tight, all the way to calm and cathartic, the pretty bow of her lips settling into something manic. Eyes softening with a luster, half-closed. A mask, the afterglow: blissed-out and smiling dreamily.
How anyone could say no to a picture like this, you're unsure. Though not particularly willing to test the theory, naturally.
"That was mean," Karina finally huffs, letting a moment pass to even out her breaths. "Both of you, so mean."
"You said to," is all Irene says, amused.
Karina looks down; lifts her head just slightly - as you bring your own mouth off her, catching her glance. Not even your palm and your fingers covered with the evidence - it's her lips that give her away, the swollen, pouting, bright pink lips of her pussy, still radiant with her climax.
She breathes, "god. Irene."
It sounds an awful lot like she's begging for mercy.
Irene hums softly. Leans in for a kiss, with her slender hands cupping Karina's face. Manages to say: "you just look so fucking hot when you're struggling. Can’t fault us for that." She reaches down, and digs her fingernail into the line of Karina's cheek - near the center, just short of the outer curve where her dimple naturally settles. She works her lips to a very soft, "ow."
"Listen," Irene says, "is there anywhere else you've been considering going? Because in the event you're looking to stay for the night-"
Karina replies, "only everywhere I still haven't gone."
Her smile looks honest. Her cunt seeping and slick - there's abundant honesty there, too. And you manage to catch the wicked glint in Irene's eye, like she's a bit obsessed with all that glisten, and what it means - that Karina hasn't felt a real, good dicking in ages. Maybe, probably, never. That she's slept with everyone and filled her quota of playing pretend: of someone just going through the motions, dragging their mouth or tongue or cunt along the most obvious, conventional routes.
It’s written all over her face: the girl between you needs to be touched everywhere, and by someone who knows how. Needs it deeper, more. Has to feel the pressure everywhere all over.
Irene asks her, plainly, “how might we get you moaning like that again, hm? We're both dying to know."
She puts her hand under Karina’s chin, tilts her face towards hers, and kisses her long and deep. Until the both of them are having trouble catching any breath. Until they have to break, only so one can take another in: inhale, exhale, and back in her mouth.
"Maybe." Karina lets go of Irene's lower lip. She sounds almost bashful, "you'll need to let me get my hands on that cock of his. Let me get it inside, want it real fucking deep inside. Tell you if I'm just, you know. Really fucking horny. Or maybe I have some hangups about sex I've never told anyone - and we have to work past that," she takes Irene's mouth into her own again.
It's the short consideration of sure, mm, why not? until the next suggestion is: "he should be on his knees, in bed, those hands around my waist, behind the small of my back and pulling me into every stroke."
“Oh,” Irene agrees, “I love that. Should I play with myself while I watch him fuck you senseless? So hard and rough - you'll start seeing stars. I wanna see him completely railing into your dripping pussy from behind, fucking you so goddamn well until you're screaming so loud it’ll wake the neighbors."
Karina sighs. “Well I’d hate to get all the way here and half-ass it.”
You barely catch it, but there's a lovely note in Karina's voice. It’s saying, and don't you dare treat me like glass, like I’m fragile.
All in all, a filthy, filthy way for a girl with virtually no ill-reputation or ill-gotten gains - no record whatsoever - to describe how she wants you to fuck her, until she’s biting down on the consonants in your name, moaning loud and unmistakably clear, and-
“-sorry, whose cock?” Irene has no intention of letting her off easy.
You draw away from the meat of her thigh, licking your lips clean, and insert mid-conversation with a husky-voiced, "hmm?"
Karina just shoots you a sharp-eyed look. "You heard."
"Only," you play dumb. You run a hand between her legs, using your palm as you go, so you can pull more sound out of her throat; the pleased sighs, a hum. Another. "The part where you want it 'real fucking deep inside,' I think I heard."
"I mean, wouldn't you?" Karina looks satisfied with that. Lets out an easy laugh and turns to Irene. "Besides, I need to know if it’s more than just pretty eyes and a handsome smile that you’ve gotten yourself so hung up on."
The tilt of your fiancée’s brow above her is noticeable and apparent. Not a twinge of surprise; more like recognition. It's Irene looking haughty - beyond the usual - wrapped up in the afterglow. It's the confidence, and not at all humbled by the reality that she is no stranger to fucking a girl this downright gorgeous, knowing the danger inherent in allowing that kind of damage, but if Irene has you figured - she's figured Karina even better: someone willing to push through the burn. Someone, she’s betting, with the capacity to handle pain like it's an artform.
“Karina,” Irene says, and she's really leaning into it, "you really ought to be more careful with that smart-mouth of yours.”
It's the absolute worst way to proposition someone; maybe second only to what Irene whispers straight into her ear:
"If I had to guess, it’s your sweet, pretty face that has everyone bending over backward just to let you fuck them, hmm?”
You’d anticipated this much. You watch how your beautiful wife-to-be eases forward and leaves a slow kiss into Karina's throat, before adding the worst, most awful thing she can manage, “they're eating up this adorable, innocent facade of yours just as soon as you let it slip - letting you straddle their waist, and slide right on, and chase some clout out of oh, she must have this tight little cunt, or how good it would fucking feel to ruin a load just slamming these perfect tits, or. The best of the best, when it comes to pretty things with brains and mouths on 'em: 'fuck, I bet Karina has a face like an angel, she's the kind of girl who probably really, really loves taking it raw - filled and fucked as deep as she can manage'."
“She’s insinuating you’re a slut,” you offer on the next beat, down from between Karina’s knees. “Or something.”
"I put that much together." Karina has that teasingly pragmatic tone in her voice, matching Irene's level. "Your point?"
The joke is that even Irene - after she has the chance to drag her thumb across Karina's lips - looks mildly impressed.
"Sweetheart," the corner of Irene's mouth quips, as if the reason is so, so very obvious, "let’s say you’re just like me, total hypothetical. You're going to have to let us know which part feels better: the praise, or the degradation. I know it’s what makes you tick: all the attention. I know you need it. The same way I know that I could eat this perfect pussy out for hours just to get it slick, and wet, and wanting, and the thing I’m still not sure you’d be ready to learn," she tells her, a light in her stare that flicks upwards, eyes going from Karina's cunt and back to her eyes, her own mouth, and then hers, "the really good sex? Isn’t always pretty."
There isn't room for misunderstanding, let alone any mercy in it. Irene's face is dark; dangerous. Like, seriously. Karina knows better. Everyone does. You know exactly what she's doing. You know what comes next, but this time, you can't shake the feeling like-
Like Karina wants you to look.
She has her fingers on her cunt, spread, presenting - and a small shrug; her response is so fucking coy: "I guess I can't really help it. Besides, it’s common knowledge, isn’t it? The brattiest girls always turn out to be the best fucks. Honest, I get so wet sometimes, you know and then god, I can't think straight.”
She laughs at the premise.
“I dunno, what's a girl to do?"
You can feel the room starting to tighten up, just barely: Karina’s breath still heavy, her chest heaving, the way Irene holds her still, how her arm curls across her stomach, palm flat under her tits; that pose in particular, the power to entice.
And maybe it's the fact Irene is still making eyes at you from Karina's shoulder, the cruel bite to her upper-lip, showing how she's working at the soft skin of her neck - a smirk, before pressing into another kiss there. Your insides are running hot, a shudder racing up your spine. There’s no mistaking what she's getting off on, not just some pretty-as-paint newcomer. There’s your Irene, your fiancée - and her beautiful, adorable, awful little shadow.
-
So what if, by some pure hypothetical, this all spirals out of control?
You don't know the consequences of taking home what amounts to a coworker and screwing her with a certain reckless abandon. There’s power harassment, a toxic workplace environment, boundary issues, sexual-fraternization. So on, so forth. It's all relative, but watching Irene and Karina make their way up the stairs and admiring the things that only a woman's hips can do, swaying this way, and that - and, following the path from one tight little ass, the other, all the way up their spines - there are no such qualms to contend with, because there's absolutely zero chance that’s the thing that’ll be keeping you up all night.
Irene laments and hopes in the same breath.
She has two pairs of panties in one hand, Karina’s fingers laced into the other, explaining with a quick squeeze, "don't tell me, baby, I already know," a wink, a laugh. She’s such a sweetheart when she means to be; charming, wooing, the coy girl Karina seems to have gotten so drunk off the idea of getting mixed up with. And yeah, when she drops them on the floor, and pushes Karina gently against the wall. Traces her finger up her jaw, then her cheek, and leans into the crook of her neck, into that same spot from earlier; yes, Karina can count herself lucky, or whatever.
"So, don't stop now, baby-" Karina's huffing - the line of her throat so taut and exposed. "You should really fucking try harder if you want me to beg."
"Honey," is how Irene responds, leisurely.
There will come a point in their intimacy, in all things considered, where this act no longer plays itself: Irene, the seductress, and Karina, a deft and innocent prey; of course you, the hammer to a nail, pushed and pulled in one direction, the next. The moments in which her lips leave the crescent of Karina's mouth - hot, hazy, and half-wet with their own spit, their tongues twisting, the muted click, and the telltale wet drag of a body pushing and straining up against her own-
Maybe in her bones, she is begging for it. Maybe, Irene hopes, she'll have to: eyes turned up, watering, tears coming hot, streaming down her flushed cheeks as she cries it from her lungs.
"I wouldn't have you beg for anything."
It's true that Irene is ninety-nine percent grace, one percent child-like wonder; she's easy to read when the mood hits her. The lines of their bodies tousling, twisting and tangling in moon-lit-darkness. There's some irony to it, only a few steps away from the bedroom. At the base of the staircase. In front of the tall windows covered with frost that serve, now, primarily to remind Karina that she's in a part of town she could never afford, in an ostentatious apartment she could only dream of; but most importantly, that the woman in front of her - with her fingers dipping down between her thighs and up again, tracing over her navel and the rise of her hip and her cleavage - can have anyone she likes, without limitation.
Karina can't deny it's everything she wants.
"Karina, I'm curious." You're easing into that spot, where the two of them have coiled themselves up - you’ve got your cock in your hand and you’re stepping out of your pants - in the hallway, the frame of the door, a heavy, long shadow cast: Karina has Irene pinned now, a wrist over her head, against the other side of the wall where the white paintwork is starting to run thin. "Didn't you say something before about how hard you wanted it? Raw, deep, I believe was how you put it."
Irene smirks. It's just the slightest sneer, until she has her hands reaching over the curves of Karina's hips and pulling her fingers into her soft ass. Spreading her cheeks. Touching up, then down, back in the same groove, this slow rhythm that builds - like they were both expecting this exact sequence of events.
You watch Irene whisper something into the girl's ear, and - fuck - the light catches her expression at just the right moment, head lolled to the side.
"Hey," Karina drawls. She lets it come out breathy - on the note, the middle and upper registers of her voice, hitting something near a perfect alto. "How about instead of having some heart-to-heart, and making me out to be some naive-ass kid, you stop asking questions and get to fucking the life out of my little pussy."
She ends it so charming.
“Oh,” you tell her, feeling how fucking drenched she is right at the end of your cock - sliding her slick up and down the length of her cunt, and knowing the feeling will likely stick to your skin and drip to the floor, all of it - "well. If that's all."
Your hand arrives on the lithe stretch of muscle between her waist, right along the ridge of her hip bone, your cock pressing onto the heat of her cunt. Karina turns her head over her shoulder so you can see it all in profile: that pout. That look. That everything.
"There you have it." Irene squeezes the flesh she's got cupped in her palms, drawing circles. "If only everyone else got to hear that sweet, sharp edge you've got underneath, hm?"
Karina opens her mouth with some clear quip to needle, but stops herself, a catch in the center of her throat, her brows shooting up. The pull of her voice is somewhere out and over.
“God, fuck-” she can just manage to sputter. “You’re- ah, ah - your fucking cock-”
Oh, it has you cursing too. You're pushing so far into her tight little cunt - the soft airy moan, that pretty sound, riding back on every last stroke until you've filled her right to the hilt.
“I know, I know - that feels so good, right?” Irene coos.
You just pull her all the way back onto your cock, thrusting deep. Base to tip. So goddamn fucking deep.
Karina probably doesn’t even mean to whimper, but the press of your hips, slowly snapping in and in, has her lungs constricted, as the pressure slides through every hot, slippery inch inside of her - this glide of agonizing intensity.
“I bet you want to just cream all over that cock,” Irene says, fine eyebrows knitting into something like contentment. “All filled up and feeling full, and just fucking letting it go - he’ll take such good care of you. He’ll fuck you so good you won’t ever get that warm, hazy, blissed-out feeling out of your veins ever, ever again, if he has his way-”
All while the head of your cock works over every fucking sensitive part of her, dragging out to thrust all the way into her soft cunt, the round of her ass bouncing back to meet each stroke. Again, and again, until you've worked through that wet stretch of muscle. And the motion isn't exactly elegant. Karina's mouth hangs wide open, catching short breaths that curl inwards when you reach the line of her waist.
“It’s so fucking good,” Karina’s sighing out. She’s all fluster, no bite.
There’s no lack for juxtaposition in the way Irene dotes on her either - these small beguiling bits of praise like, baby, you’re doing so good, these tits of yours are just, you are - just gorgeous. Mouth quirked into a tight grin as her fingers pull and twist around her nipple. The sharp yelp that comes after. The fact that she's kissing the words into her mouth on the very next whimper: “a girl like you needs the time, and patience, and opportunity to have her insides completely, totally, catastrophically ruined.”
Irene had it exactly right on the first read. She’ll say, “I told you so,” when Karina’s washing the cum off her chest or out of her eyelashes in the shower. It’s the praise; it’s the degradation; it’s you leaning down, your hands finding her hair, curling in, and getting her right up against your lips to say it quiet, low, intimate - like a lover, like she hasn't already heard it before, “such a good little slut for me.”
And the girl absolutely fucking keens.
You grip onto her hips. You pull her hair tight. Her throat bobs under your thumb and you can feel the anxiety start to throb, her pulse hot and heavy in her cunt. How it soaks the base of your cock. Jesus, you’ll fuck a load right into her. So easily. Her pussy is so snug, so unbelievably wet. Perfect enough to know if you fuck into her any faster, any harder - it’ll be just that: you'll paint right up to her cervix; you'll fill her to the fucking brim.
"Fuck, Karina, this pussy is such a fucking dream," is what you're making sure she knows, and at that, Karina just finds that bend. Arches more of herself to you, until her ass is slotted into the plane of your stomach, the head of your cock prodding, testing the limit where her cunt is hottest and wettest. "God, this has to feel incredible. Your ass bouncing on my cock" - Karina goes slack on the force, leaning forward - "as I rail your tight little cunt."
If anything, Irene is there to catch Karina's tearful, thankful gaze when she finally starts fucking crying, a litany of yes, fuck yes, yes-yes-right-there, please fuck, and a wet, dazed little "you're goddamn - you're ruining, fucking - fucking, ruining me," every other syllable broken by her shuddering breaths.
"Aw, you're going to cum again, huh? Baby-" Irene's got her head at an angle - their gazes locked, watching - and maybe Irene really gets it: how much of a big, bad crush this gorgeous fucking woman's had on the pair of you all this whole time, with all that faux-romance, and lust, and envy wrapped up inside her - but if she wasn't so obsessed with the shape of Irene's mouth, the contour of her jaw, the lean and sleek lines of her frame and the soft, round swell of her ass - she’d still be left with the shape of your cock, where it’s pounding her apart. Fucking her and fucking her up.
It's more than worth the breath to remind Karina what she came here for. Irene's fingertips brush the line of her lips, part them just so.
“All over him, baby, let him make a mess of you. Just a total fucking mess. We'll fill you up, and fill you up, until your poor, aching pussy is full of cum," and it's probably as well: Karina does what comes most natural to her - with you three, the whole number. Her eyes flutter and go dreamy. There's not even a moment of hesitation:
"-until it's leaking down these fucking thighs-"
"You're doing so good, babe," is your supporting role in all this, murmuring encouragement straight into her ear as you fuck her to pieces. Your breath fans out against her cheek. And then, your hands make a grip under her thighs, holding her steady, making her mouth fall open - this keen, wobbly, vulnerable thing that exposes the naked girl she is, behind all the makeup, and the heels, and her seductive and all-consuming appeal, everything.
“Just so you know: it’s the best fucking part, Karina. I mean, the look on his face.” Irene laughs with her whole body, until the rich, raspy sound of it fills the hall. “The way he bites his lip when he's close, his eyes clenched - and god, I fucking love when he finally cums. It's so good, watching him. Letting him have his way. Feeling his cock throb and spill into you - hot, and still, and just pumping inside you - just so, so good.”
"Fuck, ah-" the little gasp is like she's starting to hyperventilate.
"Because baby,” is the final nail in the coffin, hammering home, “he’s fucking you just like he’d fuck me.”
"Fucking, please, god-."
Irene's hands have her breasts in their grasp and are playing at where she’s sensitive, then pushing into the soft, delicate space beneath, thumbing the indents. "He's so fucking good, isn't he? Are you going to cream and cream all over his hard fucking cock?"
Then - and because it comes so instinctually to her. Because, actually, your Irene has a slight propensity for evil:
She slaps Karina, right across her tits. "Fucking cum on it."
One.
Tugs hard on a nipple. "I swear, every single bit of you is so goddamn beautiful-"
Two.
"That body is built, perfect. So easy to ruin. And god - what a perfect little pussy you've got-"
Three.
Karina struggles to breathe. Her voice is torn, frayed. She barely manages to utter out a very shaky, very desperate, "harder, fuck- you’re fucking making me so- you can, harder-"
Four.
The cruel contact of Irene’s palm pulls this deliciously hedonistic sound in Karina's throat, a loud moan; like she just hit the sweet spot inside that's all her nerves coming alight. Irene plants a quick peck in Karina's hair. Her temples, the ridge of her brows. Slides her thumb across her eyelashes, brushing them clean from whatever tears had sprung free. You don't even want to try, not at that moment, to try and endure the quiver of slippery muscle all over your cock as she shudders into her orgasm. It's simply too fucking much. She's too fucking tight.
"Aw, shh shh, shh," and then Irene's soft hushes are coming down from the other side of her head. Irene kisses her full, straight on her mouth. Karina is shaking, convulsing and caught and fucked from head to toe - and what she needed was someone like the two of you - to watch her cunt swallow your cock like some magnificent and unbelievable sight, taking the whole damn thing. Irene is telling her, "it's okay. You can let it go."
The silhouettes alone. From the end of the hall, and where the afterimage lingers: the smoke-frosted windows, the dim lights, their bare, beautiful forms - this picture that will stick in the center of your head, will probably haunt you-
"God, I can’t, just- ah.”
“Breathe,” Irene says.
"I'll cum again, it's too- I'm so-" Karina can only plead and sigh.
Irene shushes her one more time. "It's a lot. It's alright, baby. He's going to keep fucking you until he's ready to pull out, until he has a whole mess just painted onto your ass, and thighs, and I'm going to make sure that little pussy gets so wrecked, fucked, stretched on every last inch- until the thought of sex hurts, and then we're going to make you cum again, and again- over, and over-"
You're leaning over her, nose buried into the waves of Irene's hair, the curve of Karina's back, and the flush of skin in contrast. That's when you feel the coil in your chest come loose - unspooling, and bursting - when Karina's lids roll into the back of her head and her lips fall open with a pleasured gasp and a stammer, "y-you're, ah, both, you're so, both- oh god."
You're about to just pull her down and absolutely cream her, stuff her full - a mess.
And she wants you to-
"That feels so fucking good," she lets slip out on the cusp of a shiver, just as her inner muscles are spasming, milking your cock with the pressure from one pulse through the next, squeezing.
She’s right. It does. Her, coming undone. You, at wit’s end.
Another breath, and Karina is managing out between these small hiccups - not as much out of breath, just dumbstruck - simply muttering, "I’m cumming, I- oh my god."
You barely manage it; you unbury your cock from her cunt; you’re cumming all over her ass.
A shot of white that streaks right down to her bare-slicked skin, before it gets painted down into the crease of her pussy, all swollen - wrecked and raw.
Just the way it feels on her skin is enough to earn another hushed moan from her, this sweet little whimper as she can hardly stand up straight. She lets her knees buckle, but Irene is right there, to catch. Her eyes are closed, eyelids clenching, as Irene tilts Karina's face her way, to lay one, two, three soft, adoring kisses on her mouth, the angle all wrong.
“Mmm.” The smack of her lips. The pull of whatever breath she still has to give - right out of her heaving chest. "Sore, that, ahhh- um, thank you."
You fiancée wraps a slender hand right around Karina's wrist, and starts whispering to her, unbridled, "just had to. Had to see how you look-"
It’s wicked, for one thing. More than that, it's seamless:
While Irene still has the girl's voice caught in her throat, she reaches around the curve of Karina's hips and drags two fingertips through the puddle of warm cum that sits right at the base of her spine, glistening all over her ass cheeks and inner thighs, slipping and rolling off her cunt, down the center, running in rivulets. Your cum between her fingers is so filthy, so obscene - dripping hot - right off her reddened skin, and Irene can't possibly help it; not after a display as indulgent as that. The trembling that remains in Karina’s thighs does nothing to hide how her legs now jitter and shake under Irene's touch.
“That’s my good girl,” she whispers as her fingertips hover across the apex of her puffy lips. Over and over again, with more force, and more, until you're almost positive it's Karina that leans in a moment later, kissing the rest of her soft assurances right off her tongue.
Listen to her: this incoherent string of words pouring from her mouth, like they can't move fast enough, tripping over each consonant, "are you, oh, oh - oh, fuck."
No one else could make that kind of overstimulation feel so heavenly, you figure, the way she just properly melts. You take a step back, just to let Irene work. Just to watch. To appreciate the craft.
You absolutely get it.
How to touch, how to tease. Firsthand experience has you know she'll ride your cock until you're throbbing and spilling cum and she'll just shh-shh, let you have it - it's okay, sweetie, just let go - until she's rolling her hips just right, or reaching a hand back to massage your balls, or stroking your inner thigh in that exact kind of spot; some method that keeps her all the way on the end of your cock, but not quite off the edge, and your cum leaking down your shaft, spent.
She’ll bite into her smirk. She’ll tie up her hair. She’ll get that serious look on her face because she knows: you’re all hers for the taking.
So she'll sink onto it, again and again, until she's fucking you with the slippery friction only your own spill might provide. "Just a little more," she'll tell you, which is absolutely a lie, "come on, just a bit harder, I'm so close." Irene does this thing - she's had years to refine and perfect - and her voice gets a husky edge to it as her teeth graze the shell of your ear; she makes a small, pained groan into the curl of your hair and breathily hums it: 'I'm almost there.'
Who stands any chance to resist?
And she's always asking you - the same way she's coaxing and promising Karina the world with just the movement of her fingers, this delectable in and out, in and out, pushing that filth up into the red-soaked lips of her pussy - "now, what did I ever do to deserve someone like you?"
Karina blinks, once - a sleepy-lidded draw that leaves her lashes, lush and long, and fanning her flushed cheeks.
The sound between her legs is wet, squelching with your cum, with hers, the barest hint of slapping her tender skin. The beat of Irene's wrist against her thighs - like that's where she needs it most - a deep, primal rhythm, like the last thing she wants is to take a breath. It's fucking hot; her head is tilted, her jaw clenched, and Irene has the tips of her fingers twisted between Karina's legs, swirling your cum right back around in her slick cunt - those plump pussy lips that you've watched stretch out on the first press, the first and the second and the third, as Karina finds what gets her there fast, fast-fast-fastest-
"You can cum for me too, baby."
It’s not a suggestion. There’s nothing but expectation in Irene’s voice.
“Just cum.”
You watch it knock the architecture right out of Karina's legs.
-
Indulgent, just isn’t quite the right word for it. Careless, reckless, clumsy even-
Look - the tumultuous tangle you three make is all over the fucking place.
One moment, you're at an angle, moreover twisted-limbed with Irene bent over her dresser, then propped up on top of yours the next, your forehead landing against hers, feeling the soft cradle of her shoulders, her legs around you. She has her hands wrapped in Karina's, in that muddled in between: it's a collision of sorts.
There's the chair in the corner of your bedroom that really has only ever known one purpose, a plush rug, all these surfaces, horizontal and vertical for you to take the two most breathtakingly beautiful people in the world on and let your bodies settle into the shape they've needed to ever since your fingertips met Irene's in the cab, ever since she blinked her heavy lashes at you with Karina in-tow, just shy of smiling.
And boy, do you learn that Karina likes to watch herself get fucked in front a mirror. Specifically, the tall one beside Irene’s closet. It's hard to blame her. When you hold her hips tight, and really, truly fuck her, you can’t keep your eyes off how her face twists with the pleasure; or, when you drill the length of your cock into her sopping wet cunt: the wide, glossy rim of her pretty lips pulling back into a wince - and your eyes dropping past the reflection of her shoulders, her collarbones, down to her perfect tits.
The back and forth, the up and down, the way they fucking wobble in their beautifully buxom blur.
Though the eventuality remains unchanged, spread out across your bed. Karina takes a moment, hand pressed to the mattress experimentally like it's all running through her head - this is where Irene gets all that fairy-tale-inspired romance from, really - a quick pause where your future-bride is up on her elbows and staring, watching - your finger sinks in slowly, between where she's soft and warm and wet. She's thinking, you can just read it off her face, 'oh. So that's what you'd do, huh?'
Just for demonstration’s sake, you fingerfuck her in all kinds of ways - show-off and performance and dirty and mind-blowing. Because even better than the whiny, gut-wrenching moan it gets out of Irene, Karina can't get enough of how it’s all presented.
"Ugh," she slides up next to you at the foot of the bed, helping you turn Irene on her side, "why does she have to be so pretty, it's annoying, she's- she's like, made it so fucking far by playing the girl everyone wants to wife, huh?" She's talking directly to you, even while Irene rolls her neck to press her head against the pillow. "Inspirational."
You're drawing circles into her clit. Thumbing the dip, circling in the opposite direction. Karina has her nails biting right into the crease where your knees touch. In tandem, you’ll help your fiancée reach the top of that first wave.
Karina presses, all cheek - a very dry, "cute."
It’s so simple: you eat Irene’s cunt. You hold her down. And Karina slides her tongue lazily against the tight pucker of her ass.
The three of you know she deserves nothing less.
“Oh, christ, you have no idea,” Irene is murmuring into the pillowcase, head tilted at an awkward angle, looking at the wall, almost distant; but her legs are split wide and her hands are reaching forward to rub a circle into your cheek, "you know how sensitive-? Yeah. Like, really, super. Super, super fucking sensitive, okay? So - if you'd keep doing, uh, oh- oh…”
Simultaneous, then slow, and easy - kisses landing right onto Irene's clit. So much so, you can't help but turn a little, smiling right up at your girl as she digs her toes into the duvet and threads a hand into Karina's hair.
The thing is, with Irene: facades fade fast.
Karina gets to measure that fact up close - where the details of Irene's composure are not only sharp, but also readily and openly and emphatically pound to dust by the time the last loose curl of Irene’s hair falls over her collarbone; she ends up on all fours, spread out over Karina - pressed along the length of her stomach, spread over your duvet and fitted sheets, your hand at the base of Irene's waist and tightening into the divots. She’s so small beneath you that when you bury your dick inside her-
“Fuck.” Her cunt is so wet. Her breath uneven - and her words are starting to slur. There’s the gooseflesh on her back that lets you know it’s all already over for her. “Okay,” she tries to steady the ache in her stomach, “okay, okay, just- right there.”
The drag through her pussy is fucking extraordinary. It knocks the wind out of both of you; so soft to the touch, like velvet - she’s unbelievably tight. You pull her hips into you and it opens her right up. Then when you end up balls deep inside your girl a second, third, fourth time:
She simply shudders apart.
Even though you fuck her so slow, so easy - her cunt clenches and squeezes on you like Irene detests the very idea of letting you go. You don’t even need to rail her lithe body to complete and utter ruin just to feel the familiar pent-up tremor starting to build in her muscles, how she rolls her hips back just so-so. How your hands fit that round and pert little ass of hers so well, and when your fingers finally sink in, you’re pulling it all apart to get a good look where your cock shimmers with her slick before disappearing right into her tiny cunt.
Karina mutters something in her ear. It pulls on some thread, somewhere - you feel her wind like a spring, further, and further; your cock edging her so close. The smirk Karina saves for you over your fiancée’s shoulder makes you think she’s figured her out-
“Irene, look-”
Well, at least she’s tuning in on all the right frequencies.
"Aren’t we all about being thorough?" Karina raises a perfectly trimmed brow. She drapes her arm across Irene's neck, their lips sliding together again, and that kiss is drawn-out and languid, albeit needy. "So, say," it gets muffled against the seam of their lips, and comes up, and comes out like a slurry, "are we gonna use everything else too? Your mouth, your perfectly tight ass?"
Irene can hardly muster out, "fuck- fuck- yes, fucking, god," as she takes it, so deep. There’s enough there to make both of you cum, you’re sure.
“Who could’ve guessed - like there’s ever been a more perfect cocktease than bae-fucking-Irene," Karina coos, all lips. She plants a row of kisses along Irene's exposed throat. The tilt of her hips, as she pushes closer - as you press the head of your cock as deep as it can go. "Go on. Cum, baby. Be a good girl, a good hole to fuck, just do it. All over his big fucking cock. Let him fucking have you."
Which is probably about the same time you realize that you, Irene and Karina are all well enroute - becoming this one mind, a single unit. This plurality you know there’s no coming back from.
You look down, with a little more focus, and Irene is being pulled apart in every which way - your cock stretching her out, over and over - Karina’s fingers right under her clit, every circle making her whimper. She’s all sharp edges and delicate angles, but manages to be soft for you in just the right places.
“God, you’re so fucking tight,” you tell her, shifting your hips; pulling her ass flush and filling her completely. Your grip tightens on her waist and she doesn’t flinch a bit. "It's so goddamn easy to cum in this needy little pussy of yours. All wet and slick, and, hah- just pulsing-"
Irene lets out this wanton sound, desperate.
“Oh, right there, huh?” Karina asks. It’s not quite mean, but it’s getting there, fast. “Is that how he’s going to make you cum?”
You thrust on the same angle again, the same depth - you’re hitting all her nerve endings, all her sensitive spots. There isn't even room, now, for some imaginary head-to-head, some verbal volley, the banter; what comes forward is her tiny, broken moan.
How many times had Irene done the exact same, after all. Fucked you without holding back? Fucked you over? The flood of sweet-nothings as you started to approach: honey, you're so perfect, we can go slow, you just have to ask, and if you feel uncomfortable at any point, if you want me to stop-
“Just say please, doll,” Karina tells her.
If Irene told you a quarter of what made it out of the side of Karina’s mouth, you’d have never believed it. "I can't wait to feel what that arrogant mouth of yours will do when he cums inside this cute ass-"
You watch Karina spank her. Hard. There’s a red stain in the round of Irene’s cheek, and her skin is so pale that the imprint of all five fingertips looks stark, glaring.
"Just," Karina presses the rest of herself against Irene's skin and steals a quick glance at you - this half-coy smile pulling on one corner of her lips, "thought I'd do that in the name of-"
"Mmph," Irene’s groan is long, loud, "yes. Fuck, yes- please-"
Karina immediately looks away. An effort to hide the smug satisfaction. She fiddles with the auburn locks behind Irene's shoulder.
You’ll finish the sentiment: "-being thorough," and drive your cock to the hilt. Irene collapses forward onto Karina’s lap.
The sound she makes you swear is a sob. See - for Irene, it’s only about getting control in so far as it is about getting off; she’ll take whatever comes her way so long as it’s directly to her benefit - the theatrics of being pinned, the willingness for surrender, for subjugation, for the sake of telling you, yes, push my knees, spread me apart, hold me there; look at the things you do to me - it's the Irene everyone imagines, when they see the dresses, the gltiz, the glamour, just the brief flash of her grin, or the way she holds her fingernail between her teeth. Everyone wants to put her on her heel and feel a bit powerful. To have you watch the supple arc of her neckline bend, to hear the humility slip off her lips: the notion goes beyond simple kink-
It steps out into pure necessity.
She really, really needs it, and it's written into every muscle and tendon - it's on her breath as it shudders through her whole body. The beautiful, harrowing sound. "I love the way you two fuck me," she murmurs, head buried into the crook of Karina's neck. It's the sort of line, coming from someone like her, you know could raise a few blushes - if either of you was still in the business of such things.
"Honey," her voice wavers. Then, it falters: "please."
The desperation is thick, husky, almost. Karina seems like she's breathing her in, nose tucked against Irene's forehead.
You watch how she runs her nails up Irene's sides, a hot whisper sliding over her skin. You feel it, and so does Irene, this white hot pleasure singing up from the tip of her clit and spreading throughout the soft curves, the sensual lines of her body, this tangible current, a hum, a whine. You see her strain the lean stretch of muscle connecting her neck to her shoulder.
Until her face is tucked under Karina’s jaw, with a hand reaching back and hooked around your wrist and keeping you fucking, filling her, your hips drawn tight against hers, like a second home.
In and in and in.
Fucked-out and outright to the extent she goes completely silent. Almost completely still. The moment she cums all over your waist. Mouth hung open, like she’s in pure disbelief.
It doesn’t really matter, how often or how precisely Karina has imagined the whole thing. It's still a fucking revelation the first time she gets to watch Irene cum.
“No way,” she’s almost laughing, holding Irene’s jaw with both hands. “No fucking way. All the times you- what? No. Nuh-uh. You better fucking explain why this face, you- it’s not fair, the perfect face- I swear, even mid-fucking-orgasm, you are such a fucking doll-"
There's the sheer intimacy - Karina holding Irene's lips open, dragging her thumb down along the center. Quiet and sordid curses slipping from her mouth. And the obvious, her free hand already running down the curve of Irene's spine, her ass: all this sensitive-touching, admiring, appreciating-
"Hey," Karina says, voice raspy and drunk on the sex, the premise, "do me a favor, and tell me this feels as amazing as it looks. Or maybe, for once - just for the sake of fucking argument, is it actually better for the both of us, hm?
Her eyes are half-lidded, heavy, sultry. She's arching up into Irene's warmth - until her palms are spread out against her chest, thumb sliding right over everything sensitive, and she leans right to pull the other breast to her lips, and start all over again. It's clear what she means, spreading her legs as far as she can, pinned beneath the orgasm you're still fucking into Irene. As much as her petite frame will allow.
And in case you missed the point:
"So. What are we waiting for," is what she says a breath later, matter-of-fact, not at all expecting denial. “Or am I not as fuckable as our princess here?"
There's so much wet spill around the base of your cock, and the sound Irene's pussy makes when you finally draw free - all her creamy slick mixed into your mess just fucking leaking around your shaft. Karina holds herself open for you like that, spread wide. All your attention to her pink, raw cunt; you slip right inside.
Karina lets her arms go slack on the mattress, her chest shivering, lips locked around Irene’s panting breath.
And so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes.
-
(To anyone taking notes - chemistry, by definition, is the sum total of a certain process; where and when energy becomes matter becomes another.
More relevantly perhaps, it is that race and rise you feel inside your chest.
Nothing about the sensation, it seems, is too exclusive either - Irene, and now Karina, the pair of them equally devastating, all over and again. It has you in communication with a different kind of contentment: to fall apart inside their embrace in particular, and kiss them with enough breath and time to waste until the morning.)
-
“Jesus,” Karina laughs out loud, “you really believe that? You corrupting me?" she makes another scoff, both hands buried somewhere in the pockets of the sweatshirt you've lent her. "At least do me a favor and cut it out with the solemn tone."
You're leaning over your apartment’s balcony, watching an emergency plow make the slowest grind of progress up the road. It's late. And cold. Or actually - it’s early. The sky is the kind of dark midnight navy you see after all the snow and stars have run through the horizon. Time ticks on, and Irene’s inside sound asleep. A woman that small has no right to snore like heavy machinery.
So,
You and Karina happen to be two things at once: very tired, and very awake.
"What I mean is: I'm sure your manager, or your parents - fuck, someone - would fly off the handle," you say, pulling a cigarette from the pack and offer it begrudgingly. She takes the end and slips it between her lips, a little unsure. You then draw a lighter and offer it, too, and Karina puffs with all her strength. She's no expert, but it looks like the end catches and turns bright.
A bit of color.
"My parents?" Karina flouts, sucking at it, pulling deeply from her chest - smoke pours from her nose.
She finishes with a cough. And says again:
"Um. Your girlfriend had her fingers in my ass - your cock down my throat - and we're worrying what my parents might think?"
Well. She's got you on that count.
"Not to mention: who the fuck thinks they're so virtuous-" a small chuckle as she passes it back. The cigarette is lit, bright. You take a drag. Watch her tap her feet on the snow. "That they need to do that to begin with. It's more trouble, telling me what to think and feel, as if that hasn't just the opposite effect."
“Irene’s protective, albeit in her own sorta peculiar way. So, you know, by extension, she worries-" you pull, and exhale, the smoke blowing past Karina. It gets caught in her fringe, in the wisps. You offer it back when you see her shiver. "That some shit happens, after."
"Your concern is heartwarming, truly - if you want to let me think on it, I might go and write a nice little diary entry tonight. It'll have sparkles and glitter - if you're that worried."
Karina reaches in. Lets her fingers graze yours. Her skin is cool.
“Besides, I don’t need a lesson in image from Irene of all people. She’s her; I’m me.”
She holds onto the cigarette between two long acrylic fingernails, tapping the end so the ash flits out onto the ice. You're caught staring, probably - the dark hair framing her face, all messy and soft, falling about her cheekbones. How that pretty pink blush in her skin seems to never go away.
Your eyes drop to where her mouth is red, a bit swollen - well-kissed; it is snowing again, after all. And it’s easy to be kind of transfixed.
"You're not, I dunno, say embarrassed?" you ask, after a beat.
"Nope." Karina swallows. Brings the cigarette to the pucker of her lips again. You watch how she holds the inhale, holds her wrist up and slacked, head tilted back a little. This exaggerated fashion-model exhale follows, all smooth.
“Because I'm not the type.”
The heavy stream of smoke then blown right into your face.
"Really, I think - sorry, I have always wanted to do that. It felt like a movie. Look," she coughs on the next breath. "I get your dilemma. But also, um-"
There are some quiet moments too, here and there: the heat between your thighs, her pressed up close. She smells like Irene's shampoo and bodywash and that just confuses your head some.
"Who’s to say I’m not just looking out for you," you offer. Every good lie is rooted somewhere in the truth.
"Don't bother," her words hit you square on. "It's about getting off right? You invite me to your bed; I’m so starstruck and enchanted by the very concept of it - Irene and her charming, intoxicating husband. Fuck, I dunno - the way the two of you kiss, look, feel: the experience that you will let me be a part of," she stops and makes another face of amusement, so fucking confident, "you let me play, too, just once, and we're all just a little happier. My version."
“We’re not married,” you correct.
“That’s the part you’re hung up on?” Karina leans over, her upper half across the balcony, staring right up at the sky. “Same difference.”
The moon finds her smile bright like nothing else. It's something infectious. Immediately, it reminds you: of Irene.
"Trust me," she goes on to say. The cigarette slips back into the space where you are connected - the lines of her fingers, her knuckles. "I had a wonderful time, but the sun will rise here, and I'm not gonna stick around to blow you while Irene burns three omelets and finds a spot for me in her fucked up game of house or whatever."
She makes you laugh, free and easy, like a gust of cold air. Something genuine and natural. And as the laugh shakes, Karina makes it impossible not to crumble farther. Not to fucking simper there like an idiot.
“I really thought she was going to make me call her mommy or something, I swear-”
"Hey, I'm sure if you had asked." A spark catches you. The flash of her canine, and those eyelashes. “She’d have done you the favor.”
"Oh, shush." The touch of Karina's fingertip against your hand is delicate, careful - unassuming. But, god, everything with her is just the right amount of heat - it melts you; and when it stops, her touch: that feeling is so cold that you just chase her out of impulse.
"What about New Year's?" you ask. There are still boundaries you really shouldn't be crossing, but here you are, straddling yet one more.
Karina's grin cracks like an old fault line. "You're not allowed to ask me out like that," she insists, batting you away - trying her hardest not to lead with the obvious. You look out on the view, watching a guy in a parka trudge over to a garbage can, a handful of newspaper bundles, then a glance back-
The slightest flush has bloomed up Karina’s face, right underneath where the makeup's been rubbed bare. It's utterly irresistible. "Go wake up your fiancée and ask what her New Year's Eve looks like. Doubt it involves me and my dumb friends."
She’s probably right.
"Karina," you start, watching her push open the balcony door with her foot and walk slowly, lazily, back into the apartment. The window rattles, and she looks back over her shoulder. The bob of her ponytail, the sweeping lashes, that perfect slow-burn smile. That’s how you end up with a title as ridiculous and reductive as ‘original visual’ or ‘the human cg’.
"You’re really going to let them in on what we all got up to?"
"Oh," she makes this low, delighted hum - it sounds so dreamy, how her voice gets the richest sort of rasp, "every last detail."
-
On Monday: the holidays are officially over.
There's a bunch of stuff on the to-do pile. A lot of loose ends you have to clean up, a ton to catch up on. Irene is judiciously ignoring all of it. She's wearing her glasses - the ones with the big round frames that should look entirely obnoxious - which means she's already decided she's not leaving the apartment; Karina's still wrapping the world at large around her finger and has everyone convinced that she's all femme, no fatale; and you - well, you're back to thinking about how to climb the ladder and maybe how to stay there.
You head downtown with a cup of coffee in one hand and a musing mood in the other.
On your phone, some more choice text messages arrive in the late AM: had a great time by the way, stay out of trouble, this sweatshirt is actually just mine now, duh.
The selfie alongside it is pretty suggestive, but just vague enough to flirt with indecency.
She sends one more at lunch where she's gotten out of the shower, or a hot pool, or maybe a long workout - her breasts squeezed between a towel and an arm - she has the camera all zoomed in and framed tight, almost full body. If her intention is to mess with you, that's what she gets. The texts: ah, fuck off and did you have a nice date with your left hand then, thanks for reminding me, the hotel wifi is shit lmao.
The messages just keep on coming and there's really no better descriptor.
And Irene, later, in a way that's neither diplomatic nor nuanced: jesus, don't let her catch you by yourself. For simplicity’s sake. She interprets being alone with a handsome boy as carte blanche to do absolutely whatever she wants and she's vapid that way.
There’s a chance it fizzles out into nothing. An even greater chance it all goes sideways. You'll have to see what becomes of you three.
-
Okay, right - new year, new you. The resolution for the past couple remains unchanged, and unfulfilled - less takeaways and eating out; more meal prep, less calories, healthier decisions.
Irene has this cute little apron over her sweater that is fixed extra tight, the belt trailing down the tops of her jeans to accentuate her nice round hips and slim waist. She knows the nature of her charm, her sex appeal. How it occurs, almost, as if by accident.
You say something that will get right under her skin like, “looking real domestic, Joohyun,” as she slides a chopped onion from a cutting board to a bowl.
She presses her hips out just a smidge, just enough. Turns a bit as she opens up the fridge, and the smirk she has for you, that sidelong glance-
“Don’t you Joohyun me,” is her lightest rebuke.
She twists her way onto her tiptoes to fetch at the highest shelf. The crochet corner of her sweater rides up a couple of inches, flashing a hint of the fair, bare curve of her lower back. "You can help me by grating the parmesan, hm? Into that," she gestures back at the table, pointing with the bottle of olive oil.
And so you're ten, fifteen minutes into helping with dishes, with the grunt work - with the realization that Irene is going to chop her fucking fingers off if you leave her to it unchecked.
"Actually, here," you say, "can I?"
She tilts her head, skeptical - still, a quick nod of permission - and her slender fingers surrender the knife and wooden chopping board to you. She's tapping away at her phone, finding the playlist you're both always secretly listening to.
"Wow," Irene says, low, as you start dicing mushrooms, a stalk of celery. "So brave. There’s no way I could do that. Is it safe? Are we, like, in nuptial bliss now, do you think? I fancy you, I fancy you-"
It's always this sorta-delicate dance with her: how much should you step up; how much should you put out of hand; how much she accepts versus how she pushes you aside and gets through you all the same. You're too proud, really - both of you - but fuck. She's adorable; the apron adds insult to injury; and it makes the switch in your head simple.
“I always forget how much I love this song,” she’s saying; the rolling pin she’s grabbed is a reasonable surrogate for a mic. When she’s through singing a verse, she shoves it in your face. You don’t know any of the lyrics.
She doesn’t really care.
You have to laugh at everyone who's ever wasted the effort to theorycraft who she is behind the smoky lashes, the lowered chin, the downturned glance. All the characters and archetypes she'll wear and cast off as she needs.
"Here." She sidles up and tucks her hair behind her ear, the side of her hip grinding into your thigh until she’s pressed firm into the line of your leg. Because she needs to tell you that's way too much garlic, and she's not going to kiss you if your breath is trying to kill her first. She uses the word "pungent" a number of times, just for good measure. Go on - she’s murmuring - taste; right off her finger. If anyone caught this you’d be embarrassed for weeks
“I think, definitely, should open a bottle of wine-”
That’s how you earn all the responsibility for getting the both of you fed; she gets distracted looking through the recipe book.
But there's the way she looks up at you from the opposite of the kitchen island, face held up between her hands, fingers folded underneath her chin. "What?" she asks.
She’s totally caught you staring.
The truth is: Irene only looks this gorgeous when it's just her. When she forgets that she's supposed to stick to a script.
You tell her as much when you end up fucking her right there on the counter.
It's so slow, atleast at the onset. Her panties pushed aside, jeans spilling off an ankle - the fucking apron managed to make it to the floor but her sweater got kinda stuck on the way up. So you're reaching through some overpriced fabric blend to pull down the wire of her bra and get your palm where she most prefers it.
"Say it again," Irene sighs into your neck, clutching to the back of your shirt - white-knuckled at the seam. "Come on, you can be so charming when you want something."
"I wouldn’t push your luck," is all you choose to tell her.
You're hitting all the spots she wants you to hit anyway: her pretty pink cunt, slick, all wet for you already. Everything clenching as she arches her back, until she's hanging off the edge of the marble. You find it’s just enough leverage to fill her completely with your cock - stretching her out and open until her thighs bracket around your waist at the perfect angle.
"Or what?" Irene is out of breath, but hardly at a loss for words. "I know. You'll have to remind me how much smaller I am than you, right? So easy to keep pinned."
Well, if you really wanted: "Hah, ah - right." You get right next to her ear, muttering the words as deep as your chest can go - then take hold of her waist to put her in a spot she can't escape. And, by Irene's usual logic, once that happens, that's as much a victory for her as it is for you. You're being compliant, aren't you? The in and out: fucking her, filling her up, pulling your messy cock out of her pussy and slapping her clit just so she can hear how fucking soaked you make her, merely as a reminder-
"I wonder if she was even half as desperate," she moans against your jaw. "Her heart probably stopped the second you, ah - told her, what? About all of this?"
You stop fucking her, halfway.
"I’m sure you wouldn't be referring to Karina, right?" is where you glance at her. “I remember us both agreeing to chalk that up as a total absolute mistake. That was that.”
Irene just swallows, looks off somewhere over your shoulder. No one wears a blush better than her.
But she won't say it. Her honesty is such a privilege. The prodigy-type. Or at least, that's the word Irene chose. Then again, there’s you and your uncanny ability to turn a blind eye.
To the vice, the virtue, and everything in-between.
"So, can I ask," you press your lips together, finding the point of her chin with a gentle tap - you have her looking you straight back at you. The moment could let you drive back inside and fuck her brains right out, right there, like that - right through, instead: you watch her try not to squirm.
The tension in her upper chest, the rising heat that settles between her thighs, her weight struggling where you spread her knees, as far open as her body can allow. “How long exactly," you choose your words, careful and pointed, "are we going to pretend that she isn't texting both of us?"
You bury the question deep where she’s practically molten - hot and wet and so incredibly needy.
You do, again, and again. You pull her against you, watching that pretty brow scrunch and un-scrunch as your cock bathes in that soak. And hell, Karina had sent her a selfie today, is what she's explaining when you slow down enough - a bit of red, on her cheeks and her lips, and a lot of black, all the rest - the part about a midnight flight that's on hold until tomorrow morning. And then another, an hour later. To you both: her tits, the lace lingerie - so heavy, and soft, and easy to see yourself getting lost in-
Irene gasps at how fast you find all her favorite spots, then repeats - twice and again - hey, Karina said you're "such a cutie," and she sees her as the perfect mistress-material, don't you think? Wouldn’t it be ideal? The perfect fantasy? The perfect toy-
Obviously, that is morally bankrupt, even for the two of you. And you’re making sure she hears about it.
You ask her, point-blank: "are you really so selfish? So callous." It's ground out, slowly, against her hip, into her cunt. You've got Irene dripping wet, she's running everywhere, and you're telling her, "and this is your roundabout way of asking me to validate your twisted little ego?"
Don’t get it too confused: Irene lives for this shit; that sharp, hard-hitting tone - it drives her up the fucking wall.
"Duh. Tell me - just a guess," she presses her hands further back, arching into each push. The slim curves of her chest are bouncing, just under her sweater. "You like to feel so guilty and morose but I bet-" she chokes off mid-sentence, you know exactly how, the exact motion that has her wanting. She gets a leg over your shoulder with no effort at all, and your fingers find their place, digging into her hips as she locks into your thrusts.
Like fucking her is the only thing the two of you ever do.
Your whole body buzzes, it hums in resonance with where her gasps conflagrate to moans - you're pulling her slender frame down into every sloppy thrust and she takes you so fucking well.
"I bet it all sounds like, ah, the prettiest fucking music - in your head-"
“Fucking god, Irene-”
“Mhmm?” she fucking coos.
Because the things she wants to hear never actually leave your lips - your girl, fucking relentless.
Because the line between you fucking her and her fucking you becomes less distinct every time she rocks back and takes you deeper. Or when her mouth catches your next kiss a bit lazily. She takes over to swivel and slide her cunt up and around your length. So good that you have to keep her there. Hand locked onto her throat, digging a bruise or two in her collarbones, fucking her senseless against the countertop-
"Irene, fuck.” Your voice comes out thick, like gravel, and practically as an aside, “you’re going to make me-.”
Irene cuts you off, nodding, shh-shh’ing you into silence. “I know, baby. I know.” This total sigh of agreement - a hushed yes, or maybe uttering something she knows will sink right into your core, two words that sound a lot like “good boy.”
What, is that tacit approval? Probably. It’s hard to think straight.
So you bury yourself inside her, instinctually. Irene tips her chin up when she feels you paint her fucking womb. Every throb - with a fistful of her ass and your face pressed against her chest, sucking and biting and marking her anywhere, everywhere - right through her sweater. Fucking her so full that your mess is dribbling out all over the fucking floor, drip, drip, drip, and-
"Hey, I want you to know that I" - she sounds so amused as she cards through your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead - "really couldn’t ever ask anyone except you."
(All is fair in love and war, is an adage Irene takes to its logical extreme, tangled in your sheets or with a dress puddled at her ankles. A silk stocking rolling down her leg, the crochet thrown into some dark corner.
You never say yes. You never really have to.)
This all before setting her down, off the edge, back onto her feet and taking another half-step forward and having the awareness not to completely flatten her under the full weight of your body, so she can run a hand down between the two of you and her fingertips can start gathering up all the cum you've pumped inside her. Irene tells you in her sweetest lilt to pay attention as she leans back up against the counter and gathers as much into her mouth as it will allow-
The sight alone.
When her head tips back, tongue passing over her knuckles, and she swallows-
"You are so," you sigh into her temple. Her cheek. You've settled the rest to the space in between. “Absolutely unbelievable."
She reaches out and trails the tips of her fingers lightly along the rise of your cock - her softness up against your hard lines. Her eyes flash when you twitch on the fucking spot. It's so tender all coming from her.
And there, a moment or two more. You can see it in the way she has her lips tilting, dreamy. You've always known what you were signing up for - how she's thumbing the nape of your neck - what her ideal outcome was, is. There's nothing and no one in front of either of you to bar the way.
You’ll make your vows like any other.
"Well, hey," she finally says, slow and husky and curling toward you with a smug self-satisfaction.
You push her hair behind her ears, the dark brown locks. Some part of you understands, unequivocally, that she is the absolute limit of how far you would go for any other person on the planet. No questions. In a heartbeat, without hesitation.
The kiss to the corner of your jaw is unironically chaste - before she’s telling you, "shouldn’t we get a move on it, chef? There’s food to eat, recipes to ignore; aren’t you fucking famished?"
-
The bolognese reduces down to a scorch in the cast iron. Too much heat, or too long, you got too preoccupied, who knows - there's a moral lesson to ignore here if you're so inclined. So it ends up being over a tray of sushi delivery that Irene explains to you her working theory like it's high-stakes political intrigue.
"Listen," she's got her chopsticks pointed at you, "for one, Karina, to her core, is a total seductress; and she's told me already, more or less to my face - she gets off on the chase, and hates the other shit. To be involved, or invested."
“Okay then why all the go-around; the wait-and-see; what’s her endgame?”
“What’s anyone’s endgame?” Irene shrugs. “Validation." She slips a tuna roll into her mouth.
"I think you might be projecting."
"Or, I'm simply an extremely empathetic person," her sarcasm hits harder through chewing - she almost gets you, and finishes swallowing to say, "look, she's like us if we were pretending to care, okay? Just more, like - explicit about her lack of intention. So. Doesn’t matter if it's to piss her manager off. Or it's like a revenge-slash-extortion-thing against someone she either had or is having an affair with."
"An affair," you repeat, skeptical.
"It's not like it’s an unheard-of workplace hazard, come on," and then the final confirmation: "she’s just into it because it sounds dirty and sexy, okay, like everything else-"
"And you figure we should be the ones to dole it out."
"What I figure," Irene says, doing that same mental calculus she did the first time: how, where, why - it's clear. A dozen different kinds of naked are an old, tired song by now. "I want us to fuck her. However she likes, whenever she likes, for however long she likes. Let her think she’s won something, or think she has you totally fucking hooked - I don't really care. Because it would be so much more satisfying to hear you tell me about it - because the idea of you two being like that for me. It's," her words pitch up a touch.
"That's the fantasy."
And Irene dives into the details. She explains what it could look like, all the more raunchy and ridiculous. This very specific arrangement. It makes no real sense, the conversation alone, and that, you decide - what can't be rationalized - is how she'll take it: by fucking both of you. That's the objective fact. That's the demand.
You listen until it feels less and less like the decisions have already been made.
“Okay, babe,” she’s presenting her case. “Hear me out.”
And she keeps going until you both can see it materialize: "if Karina thinks she can handle both of us, then both of us it'll be." It’s how her fingers end up buried in your boxers and around the throb of your cock. You hear the gentlest laugh Irene has as you start fucking softly into her grip, and she runs her thumb over your weeping slit until she finds you that much more malleable to the suggestion. Effortless almost, she lures the primal part of you from its confines and teases and prods at its wants and desires. Which is also how some charged vocabulary gets thrown in for good measure. Because no, no, no - she's murmuring into your mouth, tipped back, plush lips right above yours - it's not a cuckquean situation, or an open relationship, or anything like freeuse or whatever else might justify the concern. It's not even cheating, Irene’s explaining, strictly speaking, because who said you and I wouldn’t be doing it together?
(Lying by omission is the story you both live - and the difference: she's pathological. You’re just now getting the hang of it.)
"Fuck," is what you exhale out as she opens her fingers, offering. Her thumb glides across the expanse of your head, a trail of pre-cum drawn underneath a nail. And you know all the things her nails can do - can rip your heartstrings. "I mean. God damn. There has to be, like, terms."
There's still sushi sitting on the coffee table, and Irene is placing these kisses into the slope of your shoulder, your sternum, making a show of the movement, how she's traveling down, downward - to her knees. Where she finds the seat between your thighs and tugs your shorts, the fabric gathered down your leg-
"Let me handle it," she tells you, and there goes the cut of your t-shirt, shoved up to your chest. Her grip runs flat, down from the rise of your hip, fingers wrapping around, touching - the flat of her tongue laving across the tip of your cock until she decides to lower her jaw.
"Just think right now. How I want to fuck her and how I'd want you to fuck her, too-"
Right in her warm, wet little mouth.
Jesus, her tongue too-
She has it gliding up, around and against the swell of the underside. Rolling to where you need it, the places she knows you’ve died before. Lapping up the mess she's already gotten out of you-
Like this, Irene's looking at the way that the idea strikes: you and you and you; the only person in the whole goddamn world that can handle her; you fucking know it too - it's the most perfect, hopeless kind of thing. Like the feeling that catches at the apex of your lungs. It burns in your stomach and grips in your gut. She's gone and cut out the nerves - there's the crown of your cock caught in a velvet grip between those pretty pink lips and her fingers twisting at the bottom.
She breathes deep. Sinks her lips so slowly to the base. Anything, everything you want: to put your hands to the side of her head, to weave your fingers through her hair, and coax her, fuck her mouth like it belongs to you, all slow and hard and measured.
To hear all those wet sounds she makes as she chokes on the end of it. The gags as you force your cock into the back of her throat, holding her head tight, her hair pulled up into a fist, to have that mouth hanging around the length of you, tongue stuck to the bottom of her chin as you move her, your fiancée, your toy. To be looking her in the eye and watching her look the fuck back while she revels in every filthy second of it, not a single damn drop of hesitation or doubt.
"Really think," Irene urges, and she's all innocent when she tips her head to kiss her way up your cock.
She’s trying for some grace or finesse, or both - trying, you think, to make a point; instead, you end up watching her gulp and spit into her palm, just to obscure the sensual curl of her tongue with the sloppy-hard rhythmic stroke of her fist. "How hot it would be if you watched us both choke on your cum. Her face fucked stupid - the perfect little fuckdoll, is that not an image for the ages-"
You get a glimmer of that catlike grin - the one you would kill for a picture of. Something for the wallpaper, or the wallet; you've never met a boundary she hasn't challenged. The most depraved ideas in her head are just, as she is, a masterpiece. And so the answer has never changed - there has never been anything she's not been allowed-
"Trust me baby," she presses her cheek against your shaft. You feel her turn and run that mouth all over. The tip of her nose. Her eyelashes. The wet heat of her breath as she nuzzles the length. "Karina's all ours to share."
Her pout, right there, waiting.
You can't stop yourself from grabbing her face, the crook of her jaw, her neck and the tips of her shoulders. Until it all comes with a good, hard pull. The sound of her mouth on your cock, the blowjob she's been perfecting for years. It's starting to fill up the room, her lips wrapping your shaft - the sound of her being so obedient, the most receptive, sweet, pretty thing: letting you guide her pace until she has a steady motion going. Taking the thick base in her hands and working it over between her fingers. There's only enough room for that before you’re all the way inside her, in and out, again: the tip of your cock brushing over the softest curve of her throat.
When you take her at face value, it's fucking wild: your fiancée kneeling before you. Her chin and neck wet with her effort, lips wrapped so pretty, stuffed, used-
There are no questions. This is simply Irene, doing what she loves.
She pushes a hand between her legs and holds herself together as your hips tilt forward, meeting her halfway-
Just letting you get yourself off in her mouth like it's no big deal. It's her throat - it's her goddamn cunt and ass, and whatever else - because you fucking asked, right? Because you gave her the permission, the choice, the agency.
"Hey, where should I?" you’re muttering as you push the hair out of her face, already half-drunk on her slick lips and realistically only a few seconds away from doing some real damage.
There isn't a need; but you want her to tell you, to use her words. In her mouth, on her face, in her palm, you’ll go without thinking. You’ll cum straight onto your own stomach if it’s what Irene says. Even if she’s acting like you already have.
"Make sure you give her,” is what she garbles out around the hard line of your cock, and it’d be impossible to understand if you didn’t know every nuance to her, if you didn’t - you know - fucking love her. To have and to hold - to hold on tight and for better or worse, and this is pretty much as bad as it gets.
The syllables come in-between hollow breaths, all wet and sticky. When Irene wrenches the fuck out of it, the base of your cock- “hm, that same sort of courtesy when, agh, I'm not around-"
Because the image alone is what matters. There, getting your cock sucked like you've earned the privilege - it doesn't have to be real, it just has to look like it's a new truth to believe in. The little motions in her wrist are just - hah, fucking unreal - and the way she sinks down lower on her knees for each stroke, from base to tip - lips pressing over the knuckles she has wet, and squelching, and twisting up and down and up-
She places a hand under your balls, the gentlest cradle, and something of your restraint finally breaks - it snaps - her insistence is ruthless.
"Yeah, god, okay- I’m just gonna go ahead-"
There are these images in your head, of Irene: the upturned brows, the hollowed cheeks, and that slutty-as-shit smirk - and then of Karina: doing the exact same thing. Fuck, your cock is heavy, absolutely leaking cum: you can feel yourself leaking into the press of her mouth. It fills up her cheeks as she blushes into the fuck. Her lips become flush and go soft against the ridge of your shaft - her jaw slack in anticipation.
"Your fucking mouth, Irene" you breathe out, “I'm going to cum-”
Just at half the sentence, you're there, sunk into your fiancée's throat. Fingers across her ears and into her hair and watching her own hands pulling you, guiding you-
It’s all flexed in your back. Every muscle. Every fiber.
Irene hums onto a simple, satiated note. She always does, when she tastes it. When you dump a hot load of cum all over her tongue and straight into her throat.
(And yes, some might claim this is the death knell for all kinds of reasoning, but you’ll go ahead and admit it’s so, so worth it.)
"How thoughtful," she says, low and slow, once she's through swallowing the entire fucking thing.
The corner of her mouth tilts up. Because you're finished: two steps left in the brain from falling out of consciousness, a mess on the couch. You get to watch as she pulls you into sorts and slots each piece back to where it's meant to sit. The underwear, your pants. It's with such careful attention. Your soft cock gets cleaned with a tissue and wiped dry. A tiny parting kiss for the tip, her mouth full-on puckered, like she's kissing out anything you have left.
Though it's a pleasant daze. She prefers you soft like this, really.
All you have left to say is: "fuck me, baby." It sounds sloppy and open-ended as hell. "I guess I'll leave everything to you."
If that's a cue or sign for the evening, the only right thing: it isn't exactly misinterpreted.
-
The actual logistics don’t arrive for a handful more weeks. You find it surprising they ever happen at all.
// Karina 10:41 pm > i'm bored.
// Karina 10:42 pm > suggestions?
// 10:49 pm > have you tried looking into an incognito tab?
// Karina 10:58 pm > lol, and what is it i'm supposed to be finding?
// Karina 10:58 pm > help a girl out here.
"Send her a picture of your cock," Irene says, like it isn’t a joke. She looks up from the smutty-dash-of-romance-porn novel she's got herself wrapped in, with her best faux-serious expression. The pair of readers that usually are in her top desk drawer have made a new home perched low on her nose. "God knows she hasn't stopped leering since she found out what I'm marrying into."
"Please," you tell her, because she's full of shit. "I'm not sending her a dick pic."
Your laptop is warm on your thighs as you huddle on your side of the bed. That's the point of balance where it feels like Irene isn't trying to look. Though she clearly is. You flick up through a couple tabs just to drive the point home.
// 11:01 pm > sorry. i'm not in the business of just handing out freebies
// Karina 11:07 pm > really
// Karina 11:07 pm > thought we were making progress here
// 11:11 pm > you're funny
"Ask her if anyone's home with her." Irene dogears the page she’s reading and sets her book down. "Or ask if she's, like, tied up or something. Something edgy."
"Something edgy," you deadpan.
"Do you want me to put the readers away," Irene offers. She's wearing the sort-of smirk you always need to be wary of.
"No," you say. “God, no.”
"Ask her where she keeps her lingerie. Tell her she should be thinking about what it'd look like: all naked except a thong. With the straps digging into her. Tied up all nice and pretty-like."
// 11:13 pm > u alone right now?
"What the fuck?" Irene slugs a pillow at you. "That is the creepiest way you could've sent-"
// Karina 11:13 pm > yeah. i am :/
You and Irene are both struck a little dumb by that.
“Sheesh, she must have had her finger hovering over the reply button.”
"Yeah," you say, eloquent. “Who could blame her, though.”
"Uh-huh." Irene exhales, staring a bit pointedly.
// 11:16 pm > cool if I come over?
// Karina 11:17 pm > and… do what?
Irene nudges you with her heel, a questioning glance: the window has just been left there wide open and hanging. She whispers like Karina can somehow hear her through the phone, "you are terrible at sexting."
“Can you fucking leave it-”
Irene rolls her eyes.
// 11:18 pm > do you need ideas
// Karina 11:19 pm > got a couple. i wouldn't be against hearing something that lets my imagination fill in the gaps though
"Text her that you're into her throat and want her to show you her tits," and Irene actually cracks a laugh as she has the audacity to make the request. She's in good form this evening; in nothing but her favorite silk camisole - the navy blue one, which pairs great with all 5’2” of the rest of her. Like the soft curves she wears and everything else isn't bad for your heart. "Seriously, I want you to-"
"How am I supposed to end it?" You ask. The tone is purely sardonic. "Babe. Baby. My future wife. Tell me. You do realize you're basically asking me to bait her, right?"
Someone will eventually put their cards on the table, and Karina, Irene, and ostensibly you will realize you’re all currently having a mental break from reality. Or something along those lines. "I mean. Could that really be a negative," she wonders with an eyebrow quirked and another gesture of her arm like she wants to showcase the night sky beyond the bedroom windows.
"How, what - babe."
"You could promise to let her sit on it."
"Is the cockslut routine an act? Like," you lower your volume, "do you really have a playbook, here?"
"So mean." Irene reaches a hand over. She has her head propped on an elbow, the rest of her sprawled and comfortably positioned on the bed. And you wonder why the fuck you feel compelled to argue a point that so obviously has already been lost. "Just go fuck her already, god damn, I dunno."
Right. So. This was the part that was kind of inevitable - and Irene's impatience aside, you probably were about to win a lottery when you showed up at her door - that golden little interaction: "hey it's me, your rival at work's future ex-husband, I guess - I'm so horny and I think you're so beautiful and wouldn't it be so crazy if we, like, boned, haha, what?"
"Just- have sex. Tell me about it after."
The novel beckons Irene back toward it. She makes herself the picture of someone perfectly comfortable with you walking right into the next most uncomfortable predicament.
The sigh. That long, heavy thing. A leadup you do so often.
The simple idea of sending Karina that sort of message sends heat, low - just under the band of your sweatpants, and right where you've got yourself in the palm of your hand and you're already wondering how this is the result, why your cock is coming to a rise already - god damn - why every thought of Karina's face, and Karina's ass, and Karina's everything, every moment her lip is caught in between those teeth is becoming impossible not to touch. "Okay," you huff, "fine. I'm getting up, I'm going now- I mean it, right now, just give me a minute, I am putting my clothes on."
"Wait," and she's saying, "wait. Wait."
And when you turn around, Irene has this cat-that-ate-the-canary grin all stretched on the canvas of her face. She takes off her readers - her elbows thrown into her lap as she goes to the very edge of the mattress, pulling your shoulders for balance. "Babe-"
"Mm."
Irene likes to get you at a low simmer. The way she runs her thumb pad along your bottom lip. And all those questions - a look into her eyes - it's hard not to fold or break - when she's holding onto that sort of expression, unwavering; no matter how her mouth seems to get soft and curious.
Her lips move onto yours, asking - a push. And your eyes - a brush against a shoulder and you've already gone a whole mile from anywhere decent. There's the touch of her tongue between your parted mouths.
"You'll be good right?"
"I mean, sure," is what you manage, watching her lips close.
"You'll fucking wreck her, and do it exactly how she needs it done." And her brow, knit. She can tell your brain is busy jumping ahead to a hundred different scenarios. "Stop worrying."
There's a brief nod of reassurance. Her fingertips dust down your chest and the rest of the way. You hear Irene tell you to-
"And give her an extra hello from me."
"Okay, I love you, but also you're insane, like certifiable."
"Shush, I know you," and Irene gives your hair a little tousle before pushing you out the door.
-
You're standing there at the front door of Karina's apartment a little after midnight, bathed in dim, orange wicked fluorescence. Like it knows your sins - past, present and future. There's no obvious answer when you go knocking, and for a half-moment, you're thinking, okay, it's alright, this is how I let someone down easy-
Until she answers and leans out, pulling open the door. It takes you by surprise-
"Well, I'd normally let you in," you hear Karina say, and a smug smile starts to cross her face, "but..."
It's about the degree to which she looks hot and a little off kilter in this tight t-shirt - a snug pair of panties around the sway of her hips - that almost sends you spinning. There's not an ounce of self-consciousness; it's like a punch to the gut.
"Aeri's date went south and she's drunk. She's passed out on her bed, like, right now, I don't think-"
There's no bra. It's hard not to get fixated on every detail. Like her nipples, practically standing out. You have an irrational desire for her to take a step back, further into the room, further out of your vision's reach-
"Uhh," you croak. And you do have the mental faculties for, uh. For telling her. "Maybe, you know, later, could be better, yeah, maybe call me."
Though, unfortunately, the suggestion falls short on delivery.
"No, no." Karina has her hands searching up and underneath your sweater. Her fingers dance flat up, right over your stomach - teasing as she hikes you back inside. Right past the threshold. Your mouth is half-caught and stupid under her, the gentle hum and pressure on her lips. "It means we need to be quiet."
She drags you another step forward, with just the hot flash of her gaze.
"Shut the door behind you?"
"Locking it too," you tell her.
The laugh she makes into it, this one little scoff - it's an acknowledgment: an agreement. It's one of the worst fucking sounds, and the whole damn thing gets to you. Like her ass wasn't the perfect fit for the palm of your hands- like you don't want to trace your fingers under the elastic of her panties.
As if it wasn't fucking clear enough. It's the tongue in your mouth and the hands in her hair. She's kissing you soft, she's kissing you deep; her weight rests and pulls back with each swell of your ribs, pushing her fingertips down until they're skating, slow, low into the grooves of your spine. Like she's getting familiar with you again.
"Okay," you breathe. She laughs on your lips and presses forward - pulls you back, farther- "uhh. Okay."
She must see the confliction you're in-
"Hey." Karina keeps going until you've got her backed against a wall, until your thigh has pressed into the crux of hers and your hand is in her shirt. You don't miss how she lets her head tilt back when her eyes shut. It's her. There's no disputing the reality. "Whatever you want to do to me. That is all I've been thinking about. Do it."
"I- don't really-"
She makes a decent show of crossing her wrists and tugging her shirt right over her head. Tosses it someplace safe enough. "So are you just gonna leave me in suspense, or do you need my explicit, enthusiastic permission?"
Your lips draw themselves a blank on anything useful, while your heart rate accelerates.
"Here try this: you’re going to fuck me until I beg you to stop. Then you’re going to fuck me some more. Or whatever- then we can go somewhere, I don't care," she offers with a half-whisper. In all her goddamned glory - barefoot, almost bare chested - it's not like it could be any other thing.
-
You’re not exactly supposed to end up on your knees for this.
This isn't quite how you pictured-
Okay, fuck, Karina's making the prettiest noises where her spine is curling up against the wall; those sounds you couldn't even make up. How it feels like the easiest damn thing, because there isn't a question to why. Every inch of you is pressed to every inch of her. You know what you'll taste on your tongue, which of these breasts belongs in your palm and the fingerprints in the dips of her waist - her lips on the curve of your jaw - every mark and bruise on her skin, every hint of it is real; it's fucking you up because you're kissing the woman that Irene picked, the woman you met - it's how you pull yourself away-
Karina, for the longest few seconds, is shocked into stillness.
Because you could, of course, decide to give this one last shot, your head between her thighs and eat her out until she was so fucking wet your cock wouldn’t even enter the equation. This is not actually a new idea; the possibility has run through her mind enough times already.
"Yeah. That would work."
Like it's no big deal-
"Do you need instructions? I can get a bit graphic."
"Actually, you know what?" you choke a little, and - "trust me."
You stand straight up for a moment, a second, an extra fraction. You slip your cock inside her hot cunt, and, yeah. She collapses right into you. You’re holding up her just enough to fuck into - she's starting to breathe deeper, harder; you've got her pinned like that - a hand on her neck, fingers sinking into everywhere she's softest: her tits, her ass, her waist, her throat, and there is nothing that isn't some version of fucking glorious about Karina's weight grinding, heavy onto the tip and onto the ridge and down the thickest length of you-
And her face, jesus christ, her fine brows upturned, the tears heavy in her dark lashes, the little gasping-sobbing sounds that spill across her wobbling lips - this is the both the easiest and the hardest part: seeing her get absolutely fucking ruined-
(You know, god help you.)
-
Irene doesn't even have to ask. There are hickies and bruises shadowing in on your neck, your chest - these marks you never remember Karina giving you, and a ton of scratches all up your back.
"You know I was going to offer to make you breakfast," Irene says, smug, "but I'm wondering if Karina got to you first."
"What the hell do you think?" you say, dumb.
There are eggs burning on a skillet that are never going to be salvageable, no matter what Irene says. She has no respect for the process. And her voice is full of that infuriating smile: "was it everything you hoped?"
"God," you mutter, trying to mask the embarrassed laughter in your words. You can hardly move an inch on her behalf.
"At least tell me something fun, you insufferable tease," she presses her nose into your hair and tickles the spot on your side, just to be a pest.
You lay it all out for her. Everything she wants to hear.
-
Surprisingly, there’s still plenty to learn about each other; days to weeks to months. The first real thaw of the year comes, and you’re quick to fall into this odd rhythm.
Karina won't actually join Irene on set or production very often - too much heat. It shouldn’t have taken so long to figure out the two don’t belong in the same room together, and if they’d asked you, they’d know - but no one ever really does ask you. However she does spend more and more time around the apartment. In and out of your personal spaces. And maybe a bit in between, or a little underneath too: how she seems to slot herself right into every possible fold whenever Irene’s away.
Always traveling for this reason or that.
And god, the perfect powder keg Karina is - ticking, short-fused, all ready to explode. It’s ironic, you think, she’s drawn to scandal the way Irene will do anything to avoid it, and here, she's found her ultimate indulgence.
The quick lay, the time and place you know you can be patient in pulling her apart, the everything in between.
In fact, you’ve taken to calling her "babe" just so she doesn’t think twice when she gets your cum pooling deep in her cunt, all hot and sopping. Looking like the picture-perfect centerfold. The fucked-dumb face - all twisted in your grip, flushed-red; and the musky scent of sex; the noises and her presence alone. You fuck her, and fuck her, and fuck her, rubbing a thumb across where the mascara runs thick.
To be the gorgeous girl, cock-drunk and fucked-out in your lap - so simple - so natural: Karina finds her way over more often than not.
After your shower, after your nap; your work, the bar - Karina’s never more than a text away. And you'll keep a hand around her waist as she stands around in the kitchen, stealing Irene’s leftovers out of the fridge. Karina ends up straddling your thigh right there at the breakfast table, holding onto the wood for support as she cums all over you.
The long and short of it is:
She's fucking you. She's fucking your fiancée. She sees no problem in having her cake and eating it too. The only caveat is: Karina thinks neither of you know what's actually going on.
“You gonna say hi to Irene for me?" she's teasing one day, snapping her bra back into place. The t-shirt pulled over all that glossy-dark hair, the shimmy of her hips just to get back into the world's tightest jeans. She presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of your mouth. It's such a stark, clinical goodbye - ending with a flick of a thumb across a screen. "And oh, let her know if she ever wants me to teach her a trick or two. Anytime."
“Yeah, I’m sure she’d love that.”
Karina does the most insipid thing. She fucking winks. “I’m sure she would.”
-
"Uh, are you kidding me?" you ask Irene.
It's late one night, and Irene is standing in the kitchen in her pajamas with a welt the shape of Karina’s lips kissed right into her jaw. A couple drinks in your system have given you both a false sense of clarity, and also an ill-timed desire to solve all your goddamn problems. You lower your voice. "In her ass?"
Irene has that all-triumphant and dopey grin that makes your heart ache for her. There's a soft curl of her hair loose, thrown across a shoulder. "I’m serious, pull her hair right, hold her wrists until her back has to be arched. Pin her to the bed," she continues to illustrate, "it's all in the finer points of how much. Tell her to count, even. I'm not joking-"
She takes another spoonful of yogurt between her lips.
"-she'll let you do anything, promise."
“That’s fucked up.”
“I know.” Irene wags the spoon at you. “It’s great.”
-
It's not only the hypothetical-homewrecking that gets Karina so torridly wet for the whole affair; when she's pinned beneath you with her legs spread and her toes pointed skyward, or perhaps later - the same day even - riding Irene's face in a locked dressing room and crying out - "ah, hah, jesus, please-"
In her head, she has you both at her beck and call. Forget semantics - Karina is a fool to her own illusion. Because in her head, not only has she managed to go toe to toe with the industry's reigning monarch, she’s managed to win.
-
You don’t exactly know how Karina ever intends to keep it casual. Because things are damn near constant:
It’s a weeknight, and the moon is high above the windows, casting a crisp rectangle onto the hardwood; it doesn’t actually matter, as far as Karina is concerned.
Irene’s on television again, the sequin in her dress clinging tight, and she’s found the gaze that never breaks for the cameras. Found the flash of her most practiced smile - that little chime of laughter she has that sounds like striking pure gold.
Then Karina: sitting cross-legged at the very end of the sofa. One leg thrown over your thigh, she’s got these nylons on her feet and she’s poking a toe into your ribs. "Isn't she stunning," you hear her muttering, "honestly. Doesn't it, like, turn you the fuck on?"
Her foot grazes your lap, all casual at first; the impossibly soft-curved heel of her sole. There are so many ways she'd prefer to pass the time and they almost all involve getting under your skin, if not just outright getting into your pants.
“Elaborate.”
"I mean listen, in your case, just knowing your fiancée is up there looking like a total angel and at the same time, thinking about you; how she’s got to be considering every which way she’ll unwind just after the showcase - at least, that’s what I’d be doing." She licks her lips, teeth. "Hell, I’m only imagining how pretty her eyes are when she can barely keep them open, and that’s enough to ruin my panties."
"Are you really."
She shifts her weight. Puts that ankle to good use. Rubbing it into the crease between your legs. "Tell me," her lips curl. She’s looking at you dead-on. "How does she usually prefer it, hm?”
Like a wildcat, you suppose, your Irene - a pretty, little predator. You could tell Karina everything, but you don’t. Instead you let her wander into the lair of her own making. Her eyes: light and curious; it’s written in the lines of her face how she's picturing it all so plainly.
“I’d guess she lets you go slow. Or hard. Or maybe a little rough and then you make her cum, and then maybe, just maybe, after the teasing; after the edging, I guess, that's when she comes in hot. I would hope."
Karina twists her foot around, swings her weight onto your lap, and sucks in a sharp breath when you reach out and grip the lean lines of her hips. It’s as easy to hold her still as it'd be to drag her across the couch and under the rest of your body, fuck the goddamn tension until there was no longer any room left for the pretty smirk in her lips. And her gasp would probably sound a hell of a lot better - than all the needling quips - a much louder and much less-pretend whine when you could throw those thighs open and really pound her wet, aching little cunt-
“Easy,” she chides when you end up taking two handfuls of her chest. "Shouldn’t you be more supportive? For god’s sake, it’s your fiancée’s moment in the spotlight, you know-"
There’s nothing stopping you from popping off the buttons of her dress, one by one by one - and kiss right there, into the swell. Your voice feels all the rougher when you respond, "and what a moment."
Her fingertips skim over the places she's been kissing you, where she's been marking and claiming and trying to, at least, to stamp you like her personal property - when the look is that serious. All cold-burn. Right through to the bone.
“So.”
You can feel her touching into your pants. The heat in her soft, silky thighs; she sits above you, keeping a leg on each side. A part of you feels trapped; another is confused why you aren't turning the tables right now - flip her and ride out her cunt on the couch. Some passing thought, or just a fraction, the only one that matters in that particular instant, wonders what Irene would do, will do - has done - in your situation. How her hips would roll. How Karina’s moan might sound when she dug a nail right into a sweet spot.
You push Karina's skirt a little farther up her body and try to gauge the moment she's finally decided she doesn't mind.
“How about you keep your eyes on her, and I'll suck your cock while you do," ends up being the short and not-so-sweet of it all. “-or maybe you can get off between my tits.”
She wraps those fingers around your base and pulls gently. It's not a decision, but merely a continuation, a culmination: a gesture made entirely to pull the response: the hitch to the throat. Her nails skim that ridgeline as her eyes track across the cut of your features. It makes you groan into her next kiss, to say, "if you wanted it so bad, babe, you could’ve just said. Would save us a lot time-"
"Are you complaining?" she husks, pulling your pants down your thighs. Your cock is in her hands and she smiles like a cat - licks her teeth when it twitches at just the slightest touch. "Yeah, I didn't think so," is how the breathless laugh leaves her lips.
You catch the quirk of her brows, her tone: straight-up, like nothing. You’re almost buying into that until she's got your shirt on the floor, those lips of hers in the divot of your collarbone, and her tits wrapped around the base of your cock, and, well, fuck-
She actually wastes no time - none at all. A couple feet away, Irene covers her laugh with one hand. There's a brass award in her other. And the television casts this soft, pale glow.
Karina tips her head, and a curtain of her dark, silken hair spills across the ridge of her breast. She runs those big eyes over you, all wide and round and vaguely-deviant. There's the perfect amount of motion, of squeeze, just a light-bit of pressure, and she's got a face smug-arrogant in an instant, knowing. Fuck, her hands on either side start pushing into the line of her cleavage as she bounces and rocks and draws every inch of your cock up through her soft tits and back down again.
"Fuck," is the harshest exhale she's ever dragged out from you.
She hums a low sound, all self-satisfied when it's her own namesake: your body wants her, like you know the full weight of her needs, your touch, how badly she's fucking craving to get off and still not admitting to anyone it might be more than sex. Like it's really as easy as her next breath, the flutter of her lashes: Karina wants your eyes, the weight of your attention and she's not going to beg for a fucking thing. The feeling, you think, is mutual.
"Irene," she says, her smile as open as it could ever get. "She's just so gorgeous, right?"
On one hand, she’s speaking between the lines. A perfect tincture of deceit - the bawdiness-by-nature: watch me, look at me - is what she might as well say - look what I can fucking do, the whole lewd display. And, god, how she knows every way to make a guy want it, like she wants you to remember it.
Because on the other, the movement is so, so direct.
Karina twists herself in an upward tilt, just an easy, practiced thing; she lets her tits spill around your cock and through her fingers, full and soft - and her lips part, mouth slacking alongside yours, matching the sounds out your chest with her own. Like she knows exactly which slide of slippery friction will make you moan, or which pull and drag will send your teeth straight into your lip.
"Isn't it crazy," she lolls her head a little, letting her own saliva drip down the center, onto your weeping slit. "How much I want your cum filling my cunt, even knowing she's the one you'd rather put the ring on," the drag and drag and drag - her tits are fucking incredible, and she knows it. She pushes up with her fingers and gives you a long draw right through the press, right where the nerve endings run electric, right where she keeps moving, up and down, and up and down-
“-it must be hard, I mean, jesus christ. Here I am, needy and hot. Begging you to wreck me and my only sin, hm - the sin of being second best, right-"
"Holy fuck, you're-"
"Obsessed," she says, and drops her tits against your waist again. "I know, I know. How could I not be?"
You're left muttering into the titfuck alone, watching her rub your precum up between their soft shape, feeling the slight give, how her skin goes warm. The act itself: such a simple-thing-bordering-on-the-absurd that you notice how you coil and flex beneath her curves, how she feels so soft and warm. The slight pucker of her lips every time your cock escapes her cleavage does little to help. It's probably the fault of the brain-fuck but the wet of her mouth is practically everywhere you look. You could eat her alive right here, spread her legs on the coffee table and finish with a bit of screaming, groaning and tearing, and no one would ever stop you.
But instead,
"-it's a good color on her, really; but then every color is a good color on her, isn't it so unfair?" She's taking your cock into her tits, deeper on every rock forward and back, holding them close - a gentle lock of those long manicured fingers keeping it all together. "Even wearing no color at all; you must just love how all the freckles are so easy to see," she murmurs, squeezing tight. The sound is wet, messy. A filthy chorus between her dirty words and the dirtier action, and just that glimpse of friction when she strokes down again is maddening. You're all slippery. So sticky-slick, so tight.
Of course there's not a fucking inch of a reaction out of her; you want to get off so bad-
"You could close your eyes," she tells you. "She would still be there. The sound of her laughter. The image. In that dress or not," and her mouth furls into a half-smile before she pauses. Reaches down, pulls her tits around you impossibly tight. "Just so damn pretty-"
You cum just like that:
"Babe," is what you let her have. The soft, undercurrent hiss. "Fuck."
You shoot clean up, all thick, hot splatter.
Well, mostly up - along the expanse of her neck and throat, coating where her breasts sit so pretty against the lines of your thighs. Across her sternum and the hollow of her neck - her body's covered in your shared mess: slick-filthy-hot, all strewn across her perfect tits.
"Jesus, Karina, baby you’re-"
"Completely covered in you." She's still smiling. That deep-cut and perfectly symmetrical curl of her lips. The gorgeous fucking shade, and her chin, how her cheeks flush, just a little - they've always turned pink in the most specific places when she gets fucking cum-soaked. “I know, just look.”
And her hands slide across her chest, trailing a path through the thick of your release, spreading the glaze all down her front. Making it messy, making the exact look a guy sees once and is driven to the ends of his sanity - just to spill his load out onto her. To get her all used, and trussed up: just how she likes.
(Sanity is being generous, considering.)
You can't do anything other than what's expected: take her up in a kiss, breathe into the mess you've made on her skin. The gasp is full, surprised - just enough, maybe, to count as genuine.
Such a mess - she murmurs - um, come on then, you can do a girl a favor. Bath bomb, bath towel, bath robe - and really it doesn't have to be a suggestion.
You’ll pin her down and fuck her right over the lip of the tub if that’s what she really wants. Just being in her company is indulgent and excessive and begging you to make a terrible habit of it. Have some self–restraint, she has this tone in her voice sounding more and more like a dare. There's just enough there in her hands: one reaching for you and the other reaching into the porcelain, swirling up the lather - and that look on her face, as if to say, can't believe you have me waiting, like some desperate, depraved pervert - only it’s more explicit than that. Only it feels worse - and her mouth is moving again, speaking into the air that already feels stifling hot, words cutting through the steam: you're not very nice, I mean really, it should come as no surprise how she turns out, having this jerk for a fucking boyfriend-
Nevermind. Not a dare, it's a challenge. She was right the first day you undressed her, the brattiest girls always have the worst kinds of fantasies, the darkest little tendrils of self-destruction. How she's laying there, asking and telling, pushing and pulling; and how she thinks she's so clever too.
Though that is no reason, she laughs, for you to think she won't love having her pretty cunt cockwarmed and spoiled for an evening or more.
-
And so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes.
-
(Really, to Irene’s credit, she had Karina pegged right from the jump. A character study in, well, herself.
She's seen as an ingénue by the press, and an outright savant to the executives. They know her as the obvious successor. They give her the runway, they watch the leggy-girl-turn, the model-posture, chin held high and aloof, looking down at the gathered throngs of photographers.
The protégé, the goddamn heir-apparent:
But her favorite game - that bit of innocence served on a platter, ingenuous when it comes to spinning a flaw to gold, and the deception too - Karina loves and loathes every second she spends upstage from Irene's own, hectic, international production. Because if anyone asks her, that girl would claim it's never been a competition in the first place.
So you see, if you and yours have both decided to ruin her-
It is a disaster-in-the-making, isn’t it.)
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my guy
eddie munson x fem!reader
Eddie being your personal handyman and stupidly in love.
cw: 2k words. no warnings just two kids being absolutely smitten for each other. tooth rotting fluff. teeny allusion to smut. Eddie being a flustered mess bless him. 18+ mdni
AN: this is literally the most low stakes thing i've ever written i just started cheesing at the idea of eddie cheesing at being called your guy
The sputtering of the washing machine startles you.
Huffing, you put your book down on the couch, rising from the depth of the cushions in which you had settled yourself into after finishing your chores and go assess the issue.
"Shit," the floor is wet and you shudder at the feeling of the cold soapy water getting into the bottoms of your socks as you slowly make your way to the washing machine to unplug it.
You try your best to dry the floor, wincing at the feeling of wet socks on the linoleum floor, cursing under your breath at the cold feel of the fabric against your skin.
Despite the floor being dry, your washing machine was broken, and you couldn't afford to buy a new one. Fortunately, your neighbor, Eddie had been your own personal handyman ever since you mentioned in passing that your sink was leaking a bit after moving into your place a couple months ago. The day after he was at your door, toolbox in hand. Your sink was fixed in less than a couple hours.
You knock at his front door, three precise, well timed knocks. Your mind cannot help but start counting just to see how long it will take him to open his door.
One, two, three, four, five, si--
The rattling of the door handle distracts you from your counting. Eddie's eyes are wide as they stare at you. His hair is tied in a low bun and he's fidgeting with a guitar pick in his hand. He must have been playing.
He's really quiet for a second, then clears his throat. "Oh, um. Hey, what's up?"
"Hey, nothing much? just wondering if you're busy right now" your tone always softens up with him around.
He looks around his apartment, almost as if he needed to remember if there was anything he should've been doing.
"Nope, don't think so. Why?" He leans against his doorframe, and he's cute in the way his pitch perks up, his smile expands just a bit to let a few crinkles form around his eyes.
"Well um... my washing machine broke and I can't afford to buy another one. I have a really important interview tomorrow morning and I need a clean dress shirt to wear. I thought I could get my guy to take a look at it and assess the damage?" you lightly punch your fist across his chest and he blushes a bit. You can tell by the way he starts blinking a bit faster that he's flustered.
"Your- your guy?" he stutters, almost as if he heard nothing else aside from that.
"Yeah, silly. My guy, like, my handyman" you smile at him, and if someone could get even more nervous, you're sure that Eddie just did, because he lets out a breathy laugh.
"Right. Your handyman guy, of course" and he shakes his head, smiling to himself a bit.
"So... can you do it?" you ask, breaking the silence.
"Yeah, no of course, sweetheart. Gimme a couple minutes and I'll be right over to you" he says smiling.
You head back to your apartment, leaving the door open for him to follow you with his toolbox, and Eddie feels like he’s lost every sense of reason when he enters and becomes surrounded by your scent.
The fabric softener you use has taken over every corner of your house, but he’s not complaining. Taking one last sniff for courage, he steps into the kitchen, where you’re sitting at, waiting for him.
“Alright, can I take a look at your washing machine?” he asks, tilting his head.
“Yeah, it’s right this way” you lead him to the laundry room, and Eddie’s suffocating. You’re everywhere.
He kneels in front of the machine and opens its door.
"What's this interview for anyway if it's got you actin' so nervous?" He says from inside the washing machine. He's fidgeting with the rubber at the opening, the hose.
"It's for this job at the school. I applied to teach at the middle school, but I'm not sure if they'll give it to me" you say, panic settling in. He's taking too long, you're done for. No clean shirt, no job.
"Nah, sweetheart, there's no reason why they shouldn't. You're incredibly smart, from all the books I've seen you read, your apartment is all books, you nerd" he starts laughing, and then stops.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to call you a nerd." He takes his head out of the washing machine. "I just- I know you're gonna do great. And if you don't maybe you can become my apprentice, would you mind passing me my flashlight?" he gives you a half smile.
Reaching for his toolbox you pass it to him.
"See? You're already perfect for the job, you're hired" he says, making you laugh. He smiles proudly to himself, and he's happy that you can't see him from inside the washing machine, because he's sure he's bursting with joy at the sound of your laughter.
"Thanks, Ed. I'll consider it." you say, and immediately after you hear a oh shit! coming from inside the machine. Concern washes over your face.
"Ed? What's wrong?" you say, as you carefully step closer towards him.
“I know what the problem is." He takes his head out again The rubber thingy that helps you close the thingy is broken” he says, like you understood what he meant.
“For a handyman you sure have your way with words” you laugh, and he doesn’t even care that he’s made a fool of himself by forgetting what the rubber gasket was called. Because he’s made you laugh.
"So how do I get this rubber thingy fixed, mr handyman?" you ask, voice still amused at how flustered he is.
"Well, I'd need to go down the hardware store and get a replacement, but it's 8PM, so I can't do anything about it now, sweetheart. Sorry" he says, and it breaks his heart to have to say no to you.
"Oh, okay." your voice sounds sad, it hurts him. "Thanks anyway, Eddie. I'll stop by the hardware store tomorrow morning before my interview if you wanna stop by in the afternoon and finish this?"
He thinks about it, about the interview. About how much you said you want the job.
"Wait, I have an idea. What if you wash your clothes in my washing machine for tonight? So you can have your shirt ready for your interview, then tomorrow I can go and get the gaskets to fix it. It's called a gasket, not rubber thingy" he says, playing with his hair.
"Ed it's fine, I can go get it" you say, trying not to blush at how gentle and kind he is "I'll take you up on your offer of using your machine, though. Thanks, Ed. You're too nice" you say, reaching for the basket of wet clothes on top of the dishwasher.
"Anytime, sweetheart. Y'know I take good care of my clientele" he says, smug smile on his lips. You giggle and fake a gasp.
"Are you cheating on me? Are you being someone else's guy?!" he laughs and goes along with it.
"Well, Mrs. Davis did ask me to fix her bathtub, after learning from someone that I fixed their sink" he said, a fake accusatory stare at you.
"You should get paid for this, Ed. You've already fixed my sink, my door hinges, helped me change my lock and now my washing machine. Soon the whole complex is gonna ask you to do their maintenance" you laugh.
"I do it out of the kindness of my heart" he says, taking a dramatic bow , then rises and leans against the washing machine. "Really, though, I don't mind doing it. I enjoy being helpful. I don't want your money, sweetheart"
"No, Eddie, I insist. I need to pay you, especially after you said you're getting the rubber thingy for me, what was it called again? A gusset?"
"Gasket" he says smiling, pointing a cheeky finger at you. Then the air becomes a bit tense, he stiffens up. You see him takes a deep breath, he's suddenly nervous which puts you on edge. Did you say something wrong? Then he speaks up again. "Tell you what, as a payment for my services, I pick you up Friday night at 7 and we have dinner. What do you say?"
Shit. You would not have pegged him for the type to be that smooth, but he had you. He liked you and he was sweet to you and he wanted to take you out to dinner. It helped that he was cute. There was no hesitation when you nodded your head yes.
"I say that's a great idea, Ed. I'll let you know how the interview goes. Should we go to your apartment?" you say. You notice the quizzical, borderline alarmed, look on his face.
"So I can wash my stuff, I mean" an awkward laugh escapes you as he motions for you to lead the way.
His apartment is the same layout as yours, but rather than books, his walls are filled with painted figurines, guitars, notebooks and DnD game sets. A true nerdy den.
"Um, the washing machine is down the hall. We have the same one, let me know if you need anything, okay?" he says, heading over to the couch, setting his toolbox down and picking up his guitar.
His laundry detergent is strong. The thought of this load of washing smelling like him makes your head spin.
After you've started the load, you head out of the laundry room and head over to the couch, where Eddie is. You swear his eyes glint a little when he sees you.
"Hey mr. handyman." you say, plopping down next to him "Keep playing, I'm just gonna watch you." You smile at him.
His face is concentrated, tongue darting out of his lips every once in a while. Cute, you think, a silly quirk that makes your mind travel to places that it should not even dare to go, you haven't even had your first date yet. God, you wanna kiss him.
He plays some aggressive guitar chords, one after the other, music sheets scattered on his knee, balancing precariously as he taps the rhythm with his head, his hair falling out of its confinements with each bob of his head.
"I hear you play sometimes." You interrupt. He raises his head, his hair has all fallen out of the bun and lays on his shoulders.
"What?" he says weakly.
"Sometimes, in the afternoon, because you're so respectful, I hear you play. And I- I just stop whatever I'm doing and listen to you and- and it's so cool. Your playing is so cool" you stop your ramble, because now he's staring at you and he's making you nervous. He's closer, and closer, and closer. And he's kissing you.
His lips are soft, albeit a bit too wet from all the times he's licked his lips to focus. His hand is on your cheek and it's big and warm and his breath is on you and you just melt into him. Soft kisses, quick kisses.
After what feels like hours, your mouth is open and you're reaching for his shirt, but he stops you, a puzzled look on your face. "Let's save this for another time, sweetheart." He says, and you can tell he's struggling to say no to you "I wanna take my time with you. Maybe after our date?" he gives you a sly smile and you think you have melted into the cushions.
"Can we cuddle, then?" you say shyly and he opens his arms for you to fall in, you take a deep breath. He's warm and smells nice.
"For a handyman you kiss really well" you say, laughing a bit. He jerks his head and quirks an eyebrow.
"How many handymen have you kissed?" his tone is dramatic and you know he's joking.
"None that I am aware of, but y'know, it could be a side job" You giggle.
"I thought I was your guy!" He says with a whine, and he makes you laugh like no man has ever made you laugh before.
“Maybe you can be my guy for real then” you say, smiling, finally holding eye contact with him.
“Yeah, I can be your guy, sweetheart.”
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson smut
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North node in houses🌠
🫧North node in 1st house-you can fight with your personality, appearance, courage and fear. You have the feeling that you never have enough courage to do something or you are afraid that you will embarrass yourself or that you will look stupid. The most important thing here is that u trust yourself. Maybe you can pay too much attention to what others think, but the mission here is to pay attention to yourself. The key lessons of the north node in first house are developing independence and learning to be brave and stand up for yourself. You also need to let go of the abandonment issues and clinginess. You have to find a way to find yourself (many times someone can help you), especially the person who have the first house placements can open you up a lot personally.
💗North node in 2nd house- many times you can have problems with your value. People with this placement often struggle between materialism and love. Many times you can feel that money shows your worth. Which means that without money you can feel worthless. You can see love through money or you can feel that this is why people love you. You can feel power through money, valuable things, cars & everything related to luxury. You may have problems with food or you may have an unhealthy relationship with food (this can be in several ways). Let's say you only eat once a day. Many times you can lose your appetite if you have too many worries (especially money-related). Also I don’t know why but I noticed that these people don't like music. In general, it's hard for you to find pleasure in life, but it's actually one of the most important things. U are worthy! Remember that.
💬North node in 3rd house- you may have a problem with speaking, expressing yourself. It is difficult for you to find the right words to describe how you feel or what you want to say. NN guides individuals along a path of mental and social growth. Communication and writing are very important with this placement. You can develop as a person a lot through writing and journaling. You can have close friends or you can be happily married, but you feel that you are a stranger in your local community.
🏖️North node in 4th house- you have a problem finding your safe place, people with whom you feel safe and at home. You want to have your own private space where it's just you. There is a tendency to want to control everything and everyone, what can cause you trouble in your family life. It is hard for you to cooperate with others. Maybe you felt like you never had anyone who was really there for you or with whom you felt completely safe. Your home can sometimes be an unsafe place for you. In this life u have to find your safe place and people.
🎠North node in 5th house- you may have trouble finding your joy. Maybe it's hard for you to be in the energy of a child or to give in to your inner child. I think a little prince book would be good for people with this north node-to remember what it's like to be a child and surrendered in your childish joy. You may have trouble showing your talents and being seen. You can also have a dating problem. You can also feel lonely, even though you are surrounded with people. Many people with this placement are afraid of standing up for themselves and prioritizing their own wishes. You have to learn to shine on your own. Find things that make you happy. Remeber the happy memories.
🌸North node in 6th house- you have problems finding your own routine. Maybe many times you have a problem with your health (in the sense that you worry too much about how things will turn out or not at all). Maybe it is difficult for you to find a suitable job or a job that would really interest you. This north node also suggests that you are prone to escapism. Maybe it's hard for you to stay in one routine. But since this house is also connected with animals, others, the physical body - this can also mean that you have a problem with getting along with animals or you have a more alienated attitude towards them (not necessarily), it can also mean that you often face the loss of animals.
🎨North node in 7th house- you can have relationship problems, stay in a relationship, or let go completely. You may always have the feeling that something is missing or that the person is not giving you as much as you thought. Many times you can be hurt by people. Maybe you never feel fully accepted in a relationship. You may face a lot of ups and downs in life, justice, maybe even a divorce, or maybe your marriage is more challenging. You want to do things your own way. This also suggests that you don’t like taking advice from others. Here you have to learn to accept the opinion of others and listen.
🌊North node in 8th house-you maybe have issues with your intimacy or being intimate with others. It’s similarly to Scorpio north node. You also have some trust issues and you do not easily trust people actually. It's very hard for you to trust someone and really believe them. You can carry a lot of secrets within you. Maybe since you being a child or from your very early age. It could be some secrets about your family and you don't want to tell anybody. You feel like nobody really gets you or understand you or that nobody will accept your dark side. Can also be some dark stuff about your family that you're ashamed to. You want someone who will be there for you forever. Somebody that will never die(vampire diaries thing),somebody that will never leave you ,somebody you can trust with all your heart. Ride or die kind of love.
🧁North node in 9th house-it is difficult for you to find faith, meaning and optimism. You may have lost your faith as a child and it is difficult for you to find something to believe in again. It can also mean that your faith has disappointed you and that the things you strongly believed in were not what you thought they were. Goals are to find meaning and live for it. You have to learn to live in the moment and enjoy the given moment, because you never know if you will be able to experience something twice. You have to grow through what you are. Another key life lesson with this placement is developing a sense of freedom.
☕️North node in 10th house-In this lifetime, you can experience tremendous growth in this life area if you are willing to face the challenges and lack of experience. Your soul wants to take responsibility for your life and become the master of your own ship. You may have trouble building a career or feeling worthy of it. Many times you are looking for your place in this life and among the audience. You want to be seen and noticed. You want to make an impression. You may have a problem with your father or your relationship with him may be a bit distant. It can also be that it is difficult for you to be around people who are older than you and that you feel uncomfortable.
🐚North node in 11th house- you can have problems with friends. Maybe it's hard for you to find a friend who would really understand you and see you for who you are. Many times you feel like you don't belong in the group and that you are the outsider in the group. Even though you craved friendships, the north node in 11th house suggests that in the past, you didn’t fit in well in any circle of friends. Many north node in 11th house people are lonely as children and young adults. You may have a problem keeping friends and people around you, and quickly people don't suit you.
❄️North node in 12th house- you have a problem with staying hidden. You have the feeling that people don't see and understand you the way you would like them to. People with this placement tend to be hard on themselves. It can be harder for you to forget and forgive things. People with this placement are strongly attached to reality. It is actually hard for you to be dreamy. In your lifetime you can meet a lot of people who are spiritual. The north node in the twelfth house indicates that you have to let go sometimes. Immersing yourself in the world of fantasy and the divine helps you find balance in your life.
-Rebekah🍸📀❄️
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😝 brain rot from my character ai scenario… the team goes out to a bar to celebrate and you wear a tiny little dress (just to rile him up obvi) but you also end up attracting a lot of male attentionand he gets SO jealous and protective of you he’s like sitting off to the side just watching you flirt with everyone and the team is like “he looks like hes gonna explode wtf” and then the SMUT HES ALL “they can’t have you, you’re all mine” “you really like all the attention huh? i’ll give you what you wanted” OMG it’s making me crazy i hope i described it good enough 🥰🥰
A/N: Is it really a reiderwriter smut if I don't have to clarify that 'I got carried away' at some point in the authors note? No, it is not. Thank you for the request. My brain is now equally rotted, oops.
Warnings: complaints, dirty talk, semi public sexual activity, partial voyeurism, fingering, hard/rough sex.
You weren't even dating.
Which made the situation even more frustrating for Spencer, and even more exciting for you.
You'd always flirted with the man a lot, had been told multiple times to knock it off even after getting a little too close for comfort on a case.
But you couldn't really blame yourself on that one. You'd had to do a quick takedown at a dive bar, and you'd been tasked with pretending to be a touchy couple at the bar to block the back entrance at the staff entrance.
You'd draped yourself all over him, allowing yourself to get closer than you'd ever been before.
If you'd just happened to let your hands fall down to his crotch, it was pure coincidence. So was giving his obviously erect length a few strokes through his jeans as he sat staring at you like you were his last meal and he was back in prison.
Emily had to pull you aside after that one personally.
You knew she was protective of Spencer, seeing him as a little brother, but it seemed like she was more protective of you at that moment.
“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” She'd asked, waiting carefully for your answer before she said anything more.
Two could play at that game. “What is this concerning?”
“With Spencer.”
“I'm not sure what you mean, Emily.”
“Yes, you do. Listen, I don't care what you get up to in your personal life, but Spencer has a way of making others feel very… seen. He can get protective and pushy. And I just want to know you're ready for that, and you're not going to let it affect your work.”
“Is Spencer having the same talk?”
She laughed at that.
“Spencer? No. I already know it's going to affect his work, because it has since you joined our team. He still gets his job done, but I know where his priorities would lie if there were an emergency.”
You'd shivered at that and excused yourself.
If he was that obsessed with you, why had he not told you? Stepped over that line from friends to more than that?
You needed to force the issue, and you had the perfect opportunity when Penelope invited you out for drinks.
“Y/N! Don't go, it's Friday night, we-” she said gesturing wildly to the team gathered around you, “are going to a bar. No, you can't rain check either.”
“Can I at least get changed first?”
“You need to get changed. We're going to a nice bar, Y/N.” Running off again to grab the rest of your team members and force their attendance, you grinned after Penelope.
It was time to see exactly how focused on you Spencer Reid was.
And how willing he was to let you slip through his fingers.
An hour later, you were stepping out of your taxi, pulling your skirt down as you did. The short black dress had a terrible habit of pulling up your thighs to flash your underwear at anyone in a 10 foot radius. Usually, that bothered you, but tonight, you planned on using it to your advantage.
After all, you'd left out the underwear tonight for a reason.
Pulling your jacket around you tighter, you pushed the door to the bar open and scanned the room for your team members.
“Y/N, over here!” Tara called you over, nursing a beer. Luke sat next to her, Penelope on his other side, and Matt on hers and completing the group was Spencer Reid.
“Where are JJ and Emily?” You asked, doing your very best to ignore Spencer as you sat down next to him, practically falling into his warmth. You sat so close to him.
“At the bar. Emily is convinced she can flirt her way to a free drink, and JJ is convinced she cannot. The girl she's working on now has to be 22 at most, so it could honestly go either way.” Penelope answered, and you felt Spencer shift slightly beside you.
“Speak of the devil,” Luke said as the two women approached.
“Well? What's the result?” You grinned up at them, letting your head fall back against Spencer’s shoulder as you gently rested your hand on his thigh. He sat silently for a minute, not moving and just taking in the conversation.
“I've still got it.” Emily grinned triumphantly.
“Maybe I should give it a try. There are a few hot male bartenders tonight. Who knows, I might score more than just a drink.”
Spencer choked on the drink he was sipping as you spoke quickly, a few knowing looks passing between every other person at the table. You'd have to be blind to miss it. Or Spencer.
“Spencer, are you okay? You should be careful, I wouldn't want you to choke. That's how I want to end my night, but it's not for everyone.” That one earned you a few snickers from the others and a glare from the man himself.
“I'm fine, thank you, Y/N.” He smiled down at you and gave your knee a friendly tap that turned slightly less friendly as he pushed it further up your leg.
The others had since averted their attentions, moving their conversation onto other things, but you and Spencer were still stuck in each other's orbits.
Your heart beat faster until you were sure it could be seen, raw and fit to burst out of your chest. His fingertips brushed your hem. He was seconds away from realising that you were going to get the attention you wanted that night.
Slipping just an inch up the hem, he twitched almost imperceptibly as he searched for your panty line, brows knitting when he couldn't find it.
“What's wrong, Spencer? Searching for something that isn't there?” You enjoyed watching his frown deepen as he registered your words, but you enjoyed it even more when you gently pushed his hand away as you stood.
“Well, I need a drink. Let's hope I can recreate your success, Emily.” You said, finally pushing off your jacket. The dress may have been short, but it was also low cut, burning the candle at both ends as your breasts threatened to spill over with any particularly deep breath.
“Sweet lord in heaven! You didn't come to play tonight.” Penelope exclaimed, practically applauding your body as you twirled for her and showed off the form fitting dress, giggling all the way.
“You said it was a nice bar, Penelope. I'm hoping there are also some very nice men here, too.” With a wink, you turned on your heel and strode to the bar, making sure your hips swung seductively with every step.
You couldn't immediately give in and turn to see if he was watching you when you got to the bar, though, not willing to give him the satisfaction. You were doing it all for him, but you still didn't want him to know that.
It didn't take long for men to swarm you. They came one at a time, and you entertained them each as you waited for your unnecessarily complex cocktail order to be prepared.
In the 7 minutes you'd been away from the table, you'd been approached by three separate men. They all tried lines on you, gave you their numbers and tried their best to woo you, but with Spencer’s eyes burning across your body as you leaned against the bar, you really couldn't have cared less.
Still, you leaned in, giggled in the appropriate places, and took the numbers, knowing they'd never be called.
When your cocktail was finally ready, and the last one offered to fund it for you You finally felt a hand at your back.
“That won't be necessary, thank you.” Spencer ended the conversation, handing his own card over to the bartender as he kept his hand on your back, his body crowding yours.
The man walked away in defeat, and you turned on him, sipping your drink as you refused to move away.
“Now why ruin all my fun, Spencer?”
“You're really enjoying all this attention, huh?” He said, pushing your hair behind your ear as he leaned closer to you, his next word a whisper against your skin.
“I can see your pussy from all the way back there,” he said, tugging down your skirt slightly. You weren't surprised though simply taking another sip and maintaining eye contact.
“I know.” His hand, having slipped up to your waist, tightened as his gaze dropped to your lips.
“You want everyone to see your dripping cunt? Want to let all the men here take a turn trying to catch your attention so they can slip in?” His voice was low, practically a growl as he licked his lips.
“No. I wanted to see how long it'd take you to come over and do it. By my count, that was eight minutes, correct?”
“Good girl. Just remember that you're mine. I'm not letting anyone else have you.” Giving your face a gentle stroke, he let it trail down your body, subtly cupping and squeezing your chest on the way down.
“All of a sudden, I feel very tired, Spencer. Take me home.” He wasted no time, grabbing your hand and gathering you up, your jacket and bag collected from the desk as he gave minimal answers to the others as you departed. To their credit, they asked minimal questions.
The cold air hit you hard as you pushed the doors open again, but Spencer was unperturbed, pulling you over to his car silently, a strong hand on your shoulder helping you into the passenger's seat.
You dare not talk the entire drive to his apartment, so sure that any word from you would have him turning immediately to deposit you right back at the bar.
He didn't, though, but he also didn't look at you or touch you. You sat squirming at the heavy atmosphere, suddenly desperate to know exactly what thoughts were trapped inside Spencer’s impressive brain.
“We're here.” He announced, pulling up quickly and cutting the engine, climbing out in a hurry.
You fumbled with your own seat belt as he pulled your door open, catching you up in his arms as he closed the door behind you. You wrapped your legs around his waist as your arms wrapped around his neck, letting him carry you up the stairs to his apartment.
His lips didn't meet yours until the door was firmly closed and locked behind you, and even then, he didn't immediately dive in. He out you down, and a touch of disappointment flooded your body as he completely entangled himself from you.
It dissipated completely when his hand wrapped around your throat.
“Let me be clear, Y/N. You are mine. If you want attention, I will give it to you. If you want to choke on something, I'm more than happy to provide it. If you want to dress like a little whore, go ahead, but don't forget who your sweet little cunt belongs to.” His fingers tightened with each word as you gasped for air, back resting on the nearest wall as his body pressed up along your own.
“Do you understand?” He asked, and you nodded repeatedly, fast and desperate.
“Good. Now, ass up on the bed. I'll meet you there.” You practically sprinted to the room in question, slinking up onto the bed. He said ass up, but you hesitated slightly as he quietly shut the bedroom door behind you, just long enough to earn a slap on your ass as he finally returned to your side.
“You have to listen, Y/N. You wanted this, so you have to listen nicely.”
“I'm sorry, Spencer, it won't happen aga-” He stole the end of your sentence as he slipped his fingers into you, gently working the two longest ones up into a frenzy as he finger fucked you.
“Sorry, what was that? I don't think I quite caught your words.” You could only moan in reply as you buried your head in his pillows, ass pressing back into his fingers to help him get deeper.
“So needy. Look at this little black dress. You knew this was going to happen, right?” A third finger slipped inside you, and you screamed out in pleasure as he continued using you.
“Burying your head isn't going to work, Y/N. Your cunt is answering for you.”
You heard the rattle of his belt unbuckling as his fingers finally slipped out, the emptiness only a relief for a second before his cock was hitting deep inside of you.
Thoughts escaped you as you finally got what you'd been begging for for weeks. His every frustration was pounded into you as he tugged at your hair, pulling your torso up so he could hit even deeper.
Pulling back your head with a hand on your throat he laid a barrage of kisses across your upper back and shoulders, making sure to bite and suck and nip as his spare hand toyed with your nipples, pinching and pulling.
In a second, you reached your climax, not having the breath left in you to let him know before you tightened on his shaft and let your body fall limp under his hands.
“I'm going to mop up our cum with this dress, Y/N, and then I'm going to make you put it back on.” With a final grunt, he pulled out, jerking his cock through his release as he shot his load right over your pussy lips.
He collapsed on top of you, and you finally gave up your last bit of strength beneath him, enjoying the pressure of his weight pushing down on you again.
“Thank god that worked,” you gasped, catching your breath. You smiled as he flipped you over and pulled the dress off your head, true to his word.
“What worked, Y/N?”
“This. You don't know the lengths I'd have gone to to get you yo finally fuck me if this hadn't worked.”
“But suddenly, I'm curious, and I have all the time in the world.” You laughed lightly but snuggled into his chest again, meaning to sleep.
“Unless you want to get dressed again now…?”
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction
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The Truth Behind It All
Summary: Charles didn't cheat on his ex with his current gf, but due to not wanting to cause further issues with his ex, he can't really come out and give the true story.
The speculation had started to get out of hand. Suddenly, comment sections became bombarded with the most disgusting and hateful things she had ever heard. But Charles’ comment sections remained fine, as long as he didn’t post her. Sure, his pr team was most likely deleting anything on there that wasn’t positive, but compared to his girlfriend’s page, he still had tons and tons of love.
She understood it, somewhat. She knew she would never support someone who cheated on their partner. But that isn’t what happened with her and Charles. After his unexpected break up with his ex following her own affair, he went out drinking that same night. Charles had always said it was a blessing that ‘his darling found him then’, when he was at his lowest, and had been his saving grace. There was no cheating on his part.
Charles hadn’t noticed the change in behavior coming from his girlfriend. He had been away for the weekend for some work related events. Her texts didn’t particularly seem off, but they were only words, it was easy to fake enthusiasm through messages. He should have checked in sooner given what he had seen on twitter.
The house was dark and quiet when Charles got back. It seemed to be unoccupied until he made it to their shared bedroom and saw his girlfriend under the covers. 16:00 was an unusual time to be asleep, but he soon realized she was awake as sniffles became audible in the once silent room.
“Darling, what is wrong, huh? I thought you would be happier to see me” He teased, trying to get a feel for the situation.
She didn’t respond. She didn’t even sit up.
“Honey? Come on, what is bothering you?” He cooed as he knelt by her side.
“As much as you say it, you aren’t stupid, Charles, you know what's wrong.” He finally got a good look at her tear stained eyes as she pulled the covers off slightly. He knew then should have checked in.
“They are just comments. Rude ones, I know, but simply comments. I have gotten bad ones before. It will all go away, honey, this isn’t the end of the world-”
“It feels that way.” She said as she sat up. “Charlie, do you see the comments I’m getting on instagram? The more comment sections I disable, the farther back people go. Someone was just commenting on my middle school graduation post that they hoped I was bullied. What kind of insane person does that?”
He hadn’t realized they had gotten that bad. Seeing how swollen her face was from crying, he felt tears threatening to fall himself.
“I just want to be enough, Charles, but I don’t feel like I ever will be as long as you let the media dictate how you feel. I want you to love me because you love me, not because the media does. As much as it is unfair and as much as it sucks, you are a public figure. You aren’t just an athlete, you are a brand. You need to be in the spotlight and be loved by fans to sustain yourself long after you retire. You can’t have both me and your fanbase, they have made sure of that.”
“Honey, we can just go private. Make it seem like we broke up until they stop caring.”
“But we shouldn’t have to! I know you don't want to bash your ex but having people think that we were the ones cheating when it was her is unfair. Plus, you're not the one getting harassed, they act like this is only my fault.”
“It is unfair sweetheart, I understand that very much, but they will forget and move on.”
“They won’t Charles, so long as you are in the spotlight and attractive, people will love you and care about who you are dating. I-” She cut herself off from what she was about to say. She really didn’t want to say it.
“What, love?”
“I cannot continue like this. If we are going to be together, we can’t keep letting the public think what they currently do. Either address it or I am done.” With that she walked out of the room, rushing down the stairs to grab her keys and put on her shoes as she left a stunned and silent Charles still in the bedroom.
—
Hours passed with no hint of when his girlfriend would be back. He left message after message until he decided to let her be for the time being. He got on a call with his PR team to assess what could be done but didn’t like the answer he got.
A tough conversation was waiting to be had and both of them knew it.
Finally, around midnight, he heard the front door open. Immediately standing from the couch, he walked over to hug her.
“I was so worried. I didn’t know when you'd be back.” He whispered into her hair as he rubbed her back.
“I know, Charles, I needed to clear my head, and I think you did too.” This was it. Both felt their stomachs sink as they sat down. Both were silent as they waited for the other person to speak up.
“I had a meeting with PR. Honey, they said there is nothing I could say that wouldn’t have large consequences. To talk about everything that happened after all this time would be petty, and defending you is wrong.”
“It’s wrong? Defending me for something I didn’t do is wrong? God, Charles, do you even hear yourself? How are you letting your team call the shots and ruin our relationship like this?”
“I am not ruining our relationship, you are the one who is giving me an impossible choice. And that isn’t what I meant. It would just look bad-”
“Defending me from getting death threats wouldn’t look bad. You are being so stupid right now.”
“Don’t talk to me like that. Weren’t you the one earlier saying I wasn’t stupid? But now I am because I won’t let you call the shots on making decisions that would have large impacts on my career?”
“If defending your girlfriend is going to tank your career then what kind of fucking fans do you have, Charles? Clearly not ones you would want to keep around.”
“Enough! I won’t talk about this anymore.”
“Then we are done. I won’t settle for continued harassment over something I didn’t do, and if you won’t defend me then I don’t know what I am even doing here.” Charles remained silent at that. What could he even say in this situation? In his mind, his hands were tied.
Oh how unfair it all was.
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 x you#charles leclerc
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subby season one rafe has my heart omg please share ur thoughts on the cokehead when he's high lmao
subby rafe is my fav type of rafe !!! i wna take care of him n mother him sm 😕
warnings: rafe is high (technically dubcon) , mommy kink n issues , dry humping !!
you both knew this wasn't okay in any way, other than personality differences and the fact that you're his dealers best friend— you're a pogue. rafe couldn't think of anything worse that he could be attracted to, but whenever he's in need of a fix he finds himself at your doorstep.
you hadn't really meant for this to become a thing, but rafe was cute. he was still baby faced and jittery every time you brushed him, pouting his pretty lips whenever you told him no more.
he hadn't come for a fix this time, rather showing up already high. his pupils dilated, and his brain moving faster than his mouth could speak. he barely got out the word 'mommy' before his lips were on yours. it hadn't been the first time you and rafe had slept together (don't tell his friends), but it's definitely the first that he's been so.. needy.
his slick lips had moved from yours down to your neck, shoving you through the door as you tried to grasp what was even going on. your hands found their way to his hips before you fully registered that they were even moving, pushing him back.
when you pushed him back, you could see the traces of his coke under his nose. his breathing was heavy, his hands trying to paw at you and bring you closer. whimpering for you, pleading that you pay attention to him.
you ignore the ache in your heart and focus on the ache between your legs, pulling him closer so you can properly kiss him. your hands run up his shirt, teasing his cold clammy skin.
he pushes back, trying to get your hands on him more. "fuck," he whines, his voice throaty and high. "please, mommy." you can hear your heart beating in your ears as he pleads, bringing your hands up to his chest manually.
your fingers find his nipples, just to tease him, not expecting to pull a whine from his throat so easily. his voice raising in volume as he tries to pull away when you pinch them, "fucking– stop!" he grunts, not like that'll stop you.
your hands slip out from under his shirt to rest on his throat, his dilated pupils hazily looking at you as he easily lets you push him to your broken couch. he can feel something sharp digging into his back but he doesn't mention it, not when you climb onto his lap.
"rafe," you tease, dragging your nails from his neck down his chest, resting at his v-line. "i always knew you were just looking for attention."
he thinks he rolls his eyes, whether he actually did is unknown to him. he doesn't argue with you, half because you're right and half because he's liking everything you do. a certain weight is lifted off him when your weight comes down on him, grinding onto the bulge in his shorts.
you bite back a giggle when rafe's head drops to your tits, his hands finding the back of your shirt to untie it. his shaking hands undo the knot of your shirt and tug it completely off, almost ripping it when it gets caught on your shoulders. so needy to have access to your chest.
his breathing hitches as he tunes into all his senses at once, the feeling of your cunt dragging up and down on his clothed cock, the smell of your coconut shampoo and your vanilla bodywash, but especially the soft muffled noises you make.
you watch him with hooded eyes, looking down at him as he drools on your tits— leaving warm spit to cool every time he pulls away slightly to look down and watch you grind. you can tell he's cumming before he even notices, his whines becoming louder and his hips bucking up.
he doesn't notice that he's cum until he feels the prickling pain of overstimulation rush through him when you keep moving, then he feels the uncomfortable wetness in his boxers— then comes the embarrassment. he came, in his pants, before you!
he almost apologizes, maybe begs for you to listen and not be mad but he's cut off by you. "there's mommy's boy," you coo at him, bordering teasing and loving. "did you cum for mommy?"
he swears his heart soars as he nods, a heavy blush spreading across his face as he looks up from your tits. peeking out from them innocently, like he didn't just do lines of coke with barry and cum in his pants.
"sweetheart," you whisper, running your fingers through his greasy hair, noting that he needs a shower after. "can you please make mommy feel good now? it's unfair that you've came n' i haven't.."
he almost gives himself whiplash with how fast he starts nodding, moving to get up and shove you onto the couch.
#cosywriting#cosynsfw#cosyreqs#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#sub!rafe#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#🎀 asks#cameronswrld
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I have this suddenly in my mind and I need to share it, rins the type of person whos like " stop giving me morning kisses" But the day you forget to do that hes like *cold sweat* "wheres my morning kiss"
sfw but suggestive, gn!reader sits on rin's lap, unedited bc i wrote this with my heart
rin rustles awake to the sound of the faucet running as you pull the handle of the sink and the stream clunks to life, and he can't think of a worse way to start the day.
for one, he did not need the harsh sound of water running to aggravate him.
and two, he didn't wake up to you beside him, all warm and comfortable tucked in his embrace, which is even more aggravating than the grating noise of water against ceramic.
today's an off-day that management issued; a real shame for rin because all he wants to do is spend time with you whilst fitting a quick workout in or two. it was a friday too, which is the perfect day to just relax and do nothing. however, you still have work and no matter how hard rin tried to subtly convince you, his methods did not work.
under the warmth of the covers, rin wonders if he can telepathically send a message to your brain and demand for you to come back into his arms. if you really were soulmates then you'd know, right?
as if it was scripted, you peek around the doorway of the bathroom, blinking in surprise when you see your boyfriend awake and grumpy. he feels a little triumphant when you smile at him.
but the feeling of triumph dies when that's all you do, greeting him with a 'good morning, rin' before turning back to do your skincare. blasphemy. do you even love him anymore?
feeling petty, he yawns loudly, the sound border-lining a groan in hopes of capturing your attention. nothing, you don't even peek around the doorway, instead, he hears the sound of a cap opening.
reluctantly, rin tosses the covers off and pads towards the bathroom, catching you off guard when you spot him in the mirror.
"bit early for you to be up, isn't it?" you question.
"what are you doing?" rin yawns, dodging your query completely.
"what's it look like, babe? my skincare."
he frowns. "that's not what i meant."
"then what do you mean?"
"i meant, what are you doing?" he parrots and you're only more puzzled.
"uhm... talking to you? getting ready for work-"
"you're not where you're supposed to be."
there's a beat of silence. "which is?"
"where do you think?"
"what's with the mind games this morning?" you ask.
once again, he avoids your question. "you should be in bed. with me."
at his admittance, you can't contain your laughter, turning around to cup his cheeks and for a second, rin thinks he has you right where he wants you. any second now, you'll relent and join him in going back to bed. you'll call in sick and you'll give him the good morning kiss he's been waiting for-
"-you're cute, rin, but i need to go to work today."
damnit.
"why?" rin persists.
"because i like my job, and there's big things i need to plan," you explain, turning around to face the mirror again so you can continue your morning routine but your boyfriend has other plans.
instead, he grabs your hips and spins you around so you're facing him again. this time, you see the uncharacteristic, albeit small, pout dancing along his lips. "won't you indulge me? you still haven't given me a reward for my match last weekend."
"i would beg to differ, your reward was more than satisfactory, you thought so yourself, you're just selfish."
rin grins lightly at that statement as he presses you against the bathroom counter. you're right; itoshi rin is selfish, particularly so when it comes to you. he should let you go to work, and he will, but he can't help but want to take up some of your precious time before your job snags you away from him, and he'll have to wait a laborious 8 hours before seeing you again.
"please? just a few minutes?"
exhaling through your nose, rin knows that you've given in before the words even slip out of your mouth. when they do, however, his celebratory smile is contagious as he drags you back to the bed. sitting down on the edge of it, he invites you to straddle him, the unmade sheets pooling around you naturally.
he doesn't mind living like this for the rest of his life.
"aren't you forgetting something?" asks the athlete.
you blink once, then twice. "no?"
rin holds back his groan. "kiss," is his only prompt but you seem to understand instantly with the way you throw your head back in laughter.
"you mean my normal morning kisses? i thought you hated them. always swatting me away," you lightheartedly mention.
"i do."
"fine then. no kiss."
he almost loses his cool for a second, but composes himself in the blink of an eye. rin's hands begin rubbing your hips, as if persuading you to give in.
"please?" tries the dark-haired.
relenting to the unusual softness in his icy gaze, you place a lingering kiss on the tip of his nose, but rin's got a look of displeasure settled on his expression, and you immediately know why he's upset- because you didn't kiss him on the lips like he was hoping.
"that was pathetic."
"excuse me?"
"another. do it right this time."
cute. you want to give in, but your normally stoic and hard-to-crack boyfriend is acting unusually clingy today, and you want to push your luck in this rare scenario.
"i don't want to kiss you though, you have morning breath," you murmur, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
"what happened to in sickness and in health?" he murmurs, now tracing circles on your skin.
"we're not married."
"we should be, though."
you almost choke on your own spit, shocked by his boldness. "sure. let me go to work first."
his hold around you tightens as he buries his face into your neck, breathing you in as he cherishes the few minutes he has left. "hold on, i just want to be with you a little longer."
you pull him closer. "if you let me go i'll give you a morning kiss."
"a real one?"
"a real one."
he unwinds his grip ever so slightly and you let one hand trace his jaw before giving rin what he wants: his good morning kiss. he indulges in your touch and your closeness, taking whatever you provide because you always are so kind and fair to him when he's all rough edges and jagged ends.
eventually, you pull away, taking your warmth with you. you gave rin your part of the promise, now it's time for his to keep his. except it seems like he's having a harder time fulfilling it.
"i want you to stay," your boyfriend confesses, no louder than a whisper as he looks up at you through his bangs. "don't want you to go."
"i know, but i'll be back this evening and then i'll be all yours."
rin sighs, unwinding his arms and letting you climb out of his lap. a shiver runs up his spine at the absence of your weight and he doesn't like the empty feeling that fills him up.
"go back to bed, rin. you should rest." you mutter.
"after you leave."
"okay."
you give him one extra kiss before you go.
hope u enjoyed, anon! sorry i kinda deviated a bit HELPP but i loved ur prompt (evidently), thank you for dropping by :D
© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
#what happened to my characterisation of rin... </3#sigh whatever this was still cute (i hope)#itoshi rin x reader#rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#itoshi rin fluff#blue lock fluff#blue lock rin#itoshi x reader#blue lock itoshi rin#itoshi rin drabble#itoshi rin x gn!reader
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The ‘bad’ kind of desire
pairing: soobin x reader
synopsis: you can't touch him, because he's too innocent, too sweet. but god you wish you could.
warnings: implied fem reader (can't remember if it's outright said), dom reader, sub soobin, masturbation, fingering, lowkey corruption kink, mentioned mommy kink, think that's really it
a/n: the first portion of this fic has been in my drafts since roughly july last year and was in my notes app for a few months - at least - longer than that so don't even ask me how old this really is, but at least it's out!!😭
“Am I bad person?”
Beomgyu scoffs, looking at you with eyebrows raised. He nearly laughs at the ridiculous statement coming from your mouth.
"What?"
And that makes him lose it, unable to even hold it back as he barks out a laugh, looking at you as if you've grown a second head.
It’s a hard thing to fathom coming from you given that you’ve definitely never had any qualms about your morality when it comes to this kind of stuff. “Really? You’re asking me that?”
His best friend sits across the room, oblivious to the conversation, his headphones pulled over his ears, the game he’s playing flashing on the computer screen in front of him.
Soobin.
Sweet sweet Soobin, messy blonde hair left unbrushed, pajamas still on, not bothering to change as this was all he was planning to do all day.
Sweet Soobin who you can’t help but want to play with.
Who you can’t help but imagine how pretty he’d look with tears in his eyes.
"I'm not fucking around Gyu-am I a bad person?"
You groan and flop over on the couch, rolling over to rest your head in Beomgyu’s lap, looking up at him with a comically-in his opinion-concerned expression.
He gives you nothing but an exaggerated eye-roll. "Don't even start."
“But aren’t I?” You look again at the boy across the room, wondering why, why he had to be so stupidly adorable. His lips were twisted into a small pout and why it was so fucking cute.
Why? You wondered, feeling like this was all you were doing nowadays.
Beomgyu resists the urge to roll his eyes at you for the second time in a row, now at the way that you look at his best friend like some kind of lovesick fool, especially considering that all you really wanted was get into his pants. It didn’t really make sense, but hey, who was he to judge?
“Why? Just because you want to rock his shit? Step on him and make him cry? That makes you question your morality? Out of everything that you've done?”
You gasp, slapping his chest. “He’s right there.” You hiss, not exactly denying the words.
He ignores that, shoving you off of him. He knows as well as you do that those headphones are the expensive noise cancelling ones that he'd gotten from you last Christmas. He barely hear himself yelling at his online teammates much less your hushed conversation.
You look at him as if you want to take him out on a nice picnic date and let him lay his head in your lap while playing with his hair pointing at clouds. Which Beomgyu couldn’t really see in any world, you were never really the type.
But who knows? Maybe you were really just that eager for his dick at this point-or the more probable scenario-have him on your dick, that it broke something inside you.
“Why’re you so concerned now? Not like you had any issues with Yeonjun or Taehyun. Hell, you kept up everyone else in the dorms,” His voice goes higher as he attempts to poorly mock his roommates. “‘Y/N, more~’ ‘please, I need it-need y-‘“
“Shut the hell up.” You spit, quickly covering his mouth with your hand while your eyes flicker once more to him, still staring intently at his game.
Really, why were you so concerned now?
Beomgyu was right. You’d had no problem doing the same to them, to Tae and Yeonjun, but they were different-he was different.
Soobin was different than any of them. They were the product of having fun with someone you knew like the back of your hand and vice versa. Simply satisfying-albeit unimportant-a matter of getting your rocks off with people you knew could find your clit and would let you hit it from the back.
Soobin was Soobin though. The sweet boy who looked at you with the most innocent smile.
Who got all blushy and embarrassed when you so much as lightly and non-vulgarly flirted with him.
He’d squeak and duck his head away when you called him bunny - again, non-vulgarly, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing and it turned him on-just a little bit.
In other words, painfully obviously, it was clear.
“He’s a virgin!” You hiss, hand still clamped over his mouth despite his garbled reply. You know just as well as Beomgyu knows how bitchless his friend is. Despite the fact that offers for him were nearly endless he was too shy, too awkward to accept said advances. “-I can’t take that away from him, it needs to be special, it needs-“
Your hand, still over his mouth is touched by something warm and wet and you shriek, pulling away quickly with a look of disgusted horror. “Are you serious right now?”
“Fight me bitch, I will not hesitate.” He growls, looking triumphant with the fact that you’ve now backed up to the edge of the couch.
You roll your eyes at him, looking once again at Soobin.
Fuck, why does he have to be so adorably innocent?
Beomgyu rolls his eyes, wiping at his mouth. "Just trust me, he'd be happy to be used by you. He might be a virgin, but he's nowhere near innocent."
"And what do you mean by that?" You sit against the arm of the couch, wiping Beomgyu's saliva onto the cushions.
He lets out a dry laugh, glancing back at Soobin before reaching for the previously forgotten remote control. "It means he wouldn't be as freaked as you think he would be if he found your sex toy collection."
—-
You suppose Soobin had always been special in some sort of way.
Always there over the span of time that you'd known all of them. Sitting off to the side while you hung out with the others. In his own room while you were fucking around with his other roommates. Playing his game while you were hanging out with Gyu.
He'd caught your eye more than once or twice, or three times over the years.
He was hot. You'd never discount that. Hot in the loser-y, adorable, cute, corruptible kind of way.
But then again, that kind of was your type if you thought about it.
You'd never been particularly close with him like you'd been with the others. He'd never made much effort to hang out with you but he was there when all the others were, if not one-on-one.
And he got really, really embarrassed when you tried to flirt with him like you did the others.
You didn't mind much, you'd just come under the impression that he was kind of scared of women. Which was also kind of cute.
But Beomgyu was right when he'd said that you'd never cared much about morals in the first place.
It didn't matter how close of friends or if they were a virgin or whatever other silly things that made things like that 'trivial'.
Life was too short to pretend you didn't feel things and besides. Sometimes, you really, just...didn't care.
And it wasn't personal, when you wanted someone, you would pursue it and if there was now friend groups you'd single handedly broken up, well they'd clearly made it personal themselves because you always made it very clear that there was no feelings involved.
Besides the raw, hot tension that made your skin tingle like your nerves were livewire.
Soobin was different though, special.
You felt bad for wanting him. For wanting to dirty him up.
He was something pure, something beyond and above you, perhaps and that was something you weren't willing to ruin, no matter what Beomgyu told you.
—-
"Fuck," he panted, "please,"
The room was dark, the light of his laptop being the only thing illuminating his face.
"Please,"
Sounds filled his ears through the crappy pair he'd owned for years, refusing to get wireless ones.
"Please."
"Bet you fucking like that, don't you?" The voice, only a few octaves higher than your own, still sent shivers down his spine.
Close enough.
"You're a such a dirty slut, you know?"
He whined into his sleeve, a sweater paw pressed over his mouth to keep the moans at bay. "I'm sorry, no, no please I'm sorry~" It wasn't doing a very good job muffling his voice though.
"I need it~"
The video seemed to respond to his desperate pleas. "If you need it so fucking bad then you'll be a good boy and wait for mommy's permission. You hear me?"
Or maybe he'd just watched this video so many times he'd memorized all of the male counterpart's lines. "Yes mommy," he panted, "I'll be good, I-I'll wait for your permission!"
He wouldn't. He knew he wouldn't.
He couldn't, as much as he prided himself on being a good boy. This time he knew he wouldn't even make it through the seven minute and thirty-two second video.
Not with you in the next room.
He couldn't tell if you were with Yeonjun or Taehyun. It didn't really matter either way.
Because he would only focus on you.
You weren't loud, having endured enough of Beomgyu's teasing and gripes about your sexual habits. He decided he hated Beomgyu for that.
But he could hear your pants through the paper-thin walls, heavy and followed by your quiet praises. "Sweet boy," you cooed, just as the porn on his laptop continued, "Naughty boy, such a messy little-" He ripped the earbuds out mid-sentence.
He wanted to hear you.
Not some substitute for the real thing.
He could imagine if you walked it on him right now.
Laying spread out on his bed, pants not even all the way off-just messily pulled below his hips, just enough for his dick to breathe properly and for his hand to easily slide up and down with the amount of pre-cum leaking from the tip.
"Fucking please." He moaned, quiet and needy.
You'd see him a mess, his soaked through sleeves catching the drool from his lips, teeth biting into the soft fabric to keep from crying out too loud.
You'd see him shamelessly fucking up into his fist, calling out pleas with no one there to hear him.
"C'mon baby, you can take it, take it all for me." Your voice was accompanied by the wet sounds of what, Soobin wasn't completely sure but his mind quickly conjured a few different theories. "That's it, a little more~"
Fuck him, he wished you were speaking to him.
Cockwarming him, your pussy wrapped around his dick, warm and wet and squeezing around him so good. Fluttering kisses over his face and throat as you teased along the length of him, slowly lifting up just to agonizingly sink back down onto him, clenching tight while he moaned into a kiss.
Or stroking him to another orgasm, making him cum again and again until his body was shaking and tears streaming down his cheeks. Telling him he could take more, do it one more time, for you. Because whatever pain you'd inflict would be worth it, after all it was your hands doing the damage.
"Fuck you look so pretty like this, just makes me wanna fucking wreck you. Turn you into a mindless whore on my dick."
Fuck, so that was what it was.
His mind managed to come up with one more picture through the haze.
You'd have his wrists pinned over his head with one hand, over him, keeping him down with a surprising amount of strength.
God, he could imagine the way you'd look at him. Maybe you'd be kind and gentle, sweet words and a sweet hand, fulfilling every one of his fantasies while calling him your sweet little bunny.
Like you were with whoever you were with on the other side of that wall.
But he doubted it. Or, he hoped not at least.
In his head you'd be meaner, crueler. Look at him with dark, hungry eyes and watch in a sadistic sort of glee when he cried, when he whined, when he begged and pleaded for more.
You'd thrust into him, hard and punishing, slowing down just to make sure that he wasn't crying from serious pain before you'd slam your hips against his, driving the tip of the toy dead into his prostate.
He'd beg you, plead you to slow down, to be nicer to him.
You'd tell him no. Tell him to be a good boy, voice patronizing and low, tell him only good boys get rewards.
God, that’s what he needed right now.
Needed you.
Your words, your touch, your scent, your presence even. You eyes on him, watching as he fell apart.
Not you fucking someone else in a different room.
Liquid heat flowed through his body, scorching and consuming every coherent thought.
"More."
He imagined it was you. Your hands all over him, pressing up against his throat, fondling his balls, purposely, maliciously ignoring where he needed to be touched most while you drove into him over and over and over until he was screaming in ecstasy.
It wasn’t enough, not nearly
"You just love my cock, don't you angel? Love being fucked by me into a mindless whore?"
He silently cracked the lube open, lathering his fingers in it before letting them drift lower.
He'd done this before, but it had been awhile and the stretch was beyond overwhelming with your words ringing through the wall.
“You’re just a little angel, aren’t you, bunny?” And he pressed a finger inside, thrusting shallowly, breath picking up as you got louder.
"No, you're not an angel. You're a fucking whore, taking it like you were made for it, huh?" A second finger, following the first, scissoring himself open with a quiet gasp.
"Yeah? Fuck, is that it?" You laugh and he swears it's right in his ear, ringing through his head. "'m gonna make you scream for me baby,"
He whines in frustration, his fingers not deep enough - you not deep enough inside of him. No, he needs it deeper, harder.
More.
"Get on top of me baby, ride me," you mutter, so far but so close.
He can imagine, as he settles on his knees, that the pillow he straddles is you. That his legs are around your hips. That his fingers, positioning on the bed under him is your dick and your hands are pressing against his hips, holding him in place.
"You're mine, you hear that? Mine. My perfect little slut, taking my cock like a pretty little slut." His body trembles, eyes rolling back as he slowly sinks down onto three fingers.
"Your's." He moans in reply.
And finally, finally, he reaches his prostate, hitting it head on with his fingers.
Stars burst behind his eyelids as they slip shut, back arching into the intrusion. He could cry, he thinks distantly that he maybe is.
But it doesn't matter.
Because your hands are on his hips, controlling his movements, leading him the way you want him to ride your cock.
Up,
"Slut." You whisper.
and down,
"Whore." You lean up, teeth nipping at his neck but not hard enough to leave marks.
over,
"Baby," Breathing over the shell of his ear.
and over,
"Good boy~" Teasingly biting at his earlobe.
harder,
"Bunny," Kissing along his jaw.
faster,
"Mine." Across his cheek.
deeper.
Just barely there, ghosting across his lips-
"-Cum for me baby,"
And he does. With his mouth hung open, drool covered sleeve long forgotten over. With his eyebrows furrowed and body curled into itself, fingers pressed against his prostate.
Ropes of cum covering his chest, and his face. Some reaching his lips and his chin, staining his skin and landing in his open mouth.
"Fuck,"
And on the other side of the wall, "Good boy,"
a/n: i was thinking about making a part two but honestly if it took me a year to find the inspiration to finish this one, i'm not sure a second one will ever come out😭
#soobin x reader#soobin smut#sub txt#txt x reader#txt smut#sub!txt#sub kpop#sub idol#sub!soobin#sub soobin#afab reader#dom reader#dom!reader
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Can I request a aventurine x reader where the reader is an emotional person. Very expressive but not really much in words. (Trust issues showing 😃)
EMOTIONAL - aventurine x reader
- in which you are a very emotional person, but you don't express your feelings with words.
- hiii anonnnn! i'm sorry if i get this wrong lollll i tried to make it in the way i interpreted it but if u want me to change it then i will 💖 anyways i hope you enjoy!
- crying and breaking down is rlly all there is to warn here lolll.... soft aventurine I love soft aventurine wc 535
At first, Aventurine probably didn’t really realize what was wrong until it hit him that you’ve never really verbally expressed your feelings to him before.
He’s seen you cry, fidget with your hands, his own hands, a keychain on your purse, but he’s never actually heard you verbalize your emotions.
So, he’s gotten used to letting you cry into his shoulder whenever you have a random little outburst. He doesn’t know why, and he knows you have a really hard time stressing your worries to him, so he sits there and lets you do your thing.
He’s learned to give you his hands to hold and toy with whenever you need to calm down as well. He shows you his little coin tricks to keep you occupied sometimes, knowing that it helps to ground you and make you calm down.
When it comes down to sudden bursts of happiness, it always makes Aventurines heart bloom. He enjoys seeing you happy, even if he doesn’t necessarily understand why you’re happy (you usually tell him little things about why you’re happy. It’s not as hard when it comes down to that!)
When you’re angry, he lets you have your moment. He might argue back if you’re yelling at him though, because he didn’t even do anything! But he’ll leave it alone if you start to back down, because he believes there is not really any sense in fighting.
For example, there was one time he was preparing dinner, due to your request. You didn’t feel too much like doing it tonight, and he got off of work really early. All of the sudden, he hears tiny sniffles from out of nowhere. You were in the middle of watching a tv show, but it wasn’t even all that sad. He turned around when he heard it, and halted his movements for a few seconds.
He heard it again, and continued to chop the cucumber for the salad you two were going to have that night. He hollered over to you in the middle of his movements.
“Hey, y/n, you alright?” He asks, not looking back. He could sense your eyes on his back, likely filled to the brim with tears waiting to spill.
You sigh and then start crying. He finishes what he’s doing and then walks over to you, putting a hand on the small of your back, proceeding in his movements to rub up and down while you cry into the top of the couch.
He eventually decides it would be best to sit down next to you, carefully trying to pull your arms away from your face and bring you into his chest. When he’s successful, he leans against a pillow on the armrest of the couch and start kissing your temples, moving down to your chin, and then laying soft kisses on your neck. You eventually calm down, and dinner has been long forgotten.
You rest in his arms, his head perched on top of yours. You’re so comfortable, but you feel like you want to apologize and run, but you didn’t. You knew he didn’t mind these tiny outbursts, and that was the huge reason why you love him so much <3
#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai#star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#honkai x reader#star rail x reader#kakavasha#aventurine#aventurine x reader#kakavasha x reader
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poly!marauders x reader but reader is contemplating their relationship?
(IDK IF YOU DO ANGST SORRY 😭)
No worries!! It's definitely not my most practiced genre but I'm happy to give it a try :) Honestly unsure if this came out as angsty enough, so please do not be shy and let me know if not! Thanks for requesting
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 886 words
James, Remus, and Sirius balance each other out perfectly. James is so sweet he should come with a warning label, always showering everyone in affection and bringing joy into every room he's in; Remus emanates a quieter sort of contentedness, and he provides a calm, rational perspective when the others need it; and Sirius takes everything they have together and dials it up to eleven, the depth of his feelings so intense that being around him is almost a sort of high.
The issue is, you're not sure where you fit into all that.
The boys seem to care about you, but you can't really figure out why. You have none of James' lightness, Remus' patience, Sirius' humor. You've been trying to hold onto this thing between you, to enjoy it while it lasts, but waiting for the other shoe to drop is becoming maddening. Eventually—someday soon, likely—they're going to realize that they're better off without you.
Naturally, you're pondering this while Sirius braids your hair, James chattering about why he thinks you all need a dog (Sirius has pointed out that you already have him) and Remus reading with his back leaned against your side.
You're trying to figure out the least needy way to ask why they care about you when Remus nudges you with a movement of his shoulder.
"You've been quiet tonight, dove."
It's far from accusatory, but the other boys pick up on the implication nonetheless. Suddenly, all the attention in the room is on you. It's a bit overwhelming.
"I was just thinking..." you say tentatively, unsure of your words. "Do you think we'll all stay together?"
James looks as though you've slapped him, and though Remus doesn't turn, you feel the muscles in his shoulders tense.
"Why would you say that?" James asks. "Of course I think so."
"But..." Merlin, there's no easy way to go about this conversation. "I just, I don't really see what I'm bringing to the table here." You cringe at your own words, awaiting judgement—or worse, epiphany—from your boyfriends.
Sirius, whose hands have been motionless in your hair since you spoke up, abandons his project entirely, letting your hair drop limply from his grasp. "Wha—what does that even mean, what you bring to the table?"
Remus turns around, placing a reassuring hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Easy, love," he murmurs. "Y/N, can you tell us what you're worried about?"
You look between them as Sirius comes to sit beside Remus, feeling stupid and immature. "Sorry, it's not...a you-guys thing. It's just that, I can see how well you work together, and why you love each other, but I don't really see why you'd love me." Your voice gets quieter as you finish, shameful of your thoughts and the position you know you're putting them in.
Sirius releases a disbelieving exhale, slumping into Remus' side, and the taller boy wraps an arm around him, looking at you like you're one of his crosswords and have just given him a particularly perplexing clue.
"Sweetheart," James says, pulling your attention towards him, "it's not a matter of why we would love you, just that we do. Do you need to list off reasons for why you care about every person in your life, or doesn't it just happen?"
"I don't need to," you admit, "but I could. I love you guys because of who you are."
"And so do we," Remus says. "Dove, we care about you. Isn't that enough? Can you trust us with that?"
"It's not..." It's not a matter of trusting them. You'd trust any of them with your life, with everything. It's that you don't trust yourself. It's that you're worried you won't live up to it, to this earnest affection they're offering you. You don't think you deserve it.
"How about this," Sirius says, in his typical cut-to-the-chase manner. "If we didn't love you—and have damn good reasons for loving you—we wouldn't be with you. So there." You must look unconvinced, because Sirius arches a brow. "You don't think that, with James' bod and Remus' hot accent, not to mention my boyish charm, we could have anyone we wanted?"
You crack a smile, but Sirius just looks at you, awaiting an answer. You shrink a bit under his gaze.
"You could," you say sheepishly.
"Right." Sirius grins suavely. "And we used those combined faculties to snag this hot piece of ass." Without warning, he reaches out and drags you into him, the two of you piling an unfair amount of weight onto Remus.
You squeal, and James shouts "Oi! Leave our poor Moony alone," tugging on Remus' arm until Remus sighs, disentangling himself from Sirius and going to sit beside James. James ruffles his hair, planting a triumphant kiss on the taller boy's cheek. If Remus blushes a bit, you pretend not to notice.
"Got that?" Sirius looks at you threateningly, but his voice is soft, his eyes imploring. "We want you, baby. Finders, keepers."
James nods as if this is a sage decree. "Think you might be able to get used to that?" he asks, and you know he's only partly joking.
You relax into Sirius' hold, giving Remus and James an apologetic look. "Yeah," you say. You can definitely get used to this.
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#poly!marauders angst#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#marauders fanfiction#marauders fanfic#marauders fic#the marauders#marauders era#marauders#marauders drabble#marauders oneshot#marauders scenario#marauders imagine
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𝐌𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞・𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jude is your boss. You're his assistant. He deserately wants to take you out on a date but you don't want to.. maybe
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: boss! Jude x assistant! Reader(first person)
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: coworker relationship, SMUT, intercourse(unprotected), a little bit of dirty talking, cursing
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: trying something different. idk but I love the way I wrote this tho
Enjoy
stacks of papers pilled up on my desk made me exhale loudly. I just got into work and this is what I'm faced with. Great.
I slung my purse to the floor and took a seat in my hard chair. As I opened my laptop the door in front of me opened up. Jude, my boss, walked out taking a look over at me.
He's been my boss for the past two months now. Ever since our old CEO stepped down, he has been filling in.
Jude wasn't a bad boss. He never yelled, he always made me feel comfortable, and allowed me to work at my own pace. but there was just one small issue with having him as my boss.
He's was so damn hot.
His face was like a Greek god. He was tall, He always looked amazing in whatever suit he wore, his hair and skin so perfect. Today was no different.
When he walked up to my desk, he looked at me with those pretty brown eyes and that amazing smirk of his. I subconsciously squeezed my legs shut. Thankfully he couldn't see it as I did so.
“Good morning Mr. Bellingham.”
I tore my eyes from his and looked down at the files in front of me.
“You got a lot to do.” he said to me. I laugh, looking up at him. “Yep. I noticed.”
“Ok well I'm going to let you get on to them. I'm going to take a few calls. Lemme know if you need anything.”
I nodded, smiling slightly at him. Jude turned back around heading back into his office. When the door shut I exhaled and leaned back into my chair.
-
It was now 5pm. The winter sun was now set leaving the outside world dark, but this office was sill open. I had answered several emails, took several calls and filled out several filles by now.
Jude was still very much in his office. I haven't seen him much today only because he was busy taking calls.
I got up walking to Jude's office. I knocked before opening the door. Jude was sitting at his desk in his white button up shirt, his suit top sitting on the back off his chair. When he noticed me he looked from whatever he was doing on his computer.
“Hi I just wanted to check in on you.”
Jude smiled at me and nodded. “Yeah I'm doing pretty good.”
“Ok well I finished everything, I'm going to head out. I'll catch you tomorrow.” As I was ready to Leave the doorway, Jude stopped me.
“Y/n.”
I turned back to him. “Yes?”
Jude motioned for me to come over to his desk which I did. I took a seat in the chair across from him. “yes?”
“I just want to ask you what you're doing tonight?”
He looked at me waiting for me to answer. I sat there confused. “Well I'm not doing anything. Just going home. Why are you asking?”
Jude tore his eyes from me. “I was thinking we could go to dinner.”
My heart was pounding in my chest as he said that. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
Jude squeezed his lips together. It was an obvious yes.
“Yeah, but it doesn't have to.” Jude leaned back in his chair. “We can go as co workers.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “I don't know if that's a good idea. I mean.. you're my boss.”
Jude nodded. I can see the light leaving his eyes making me feel a little bit guilty.
“You're right. Well I'm not going to hold you for long. You can go.”
I stood up walking over out the door. I grabbed my things and walked to the elevator. As I waited for it to come to our floor my mind started to race. Did I really not want to go on a date with him? I mean he's my boss but still he's fucking hot and I can't deny I thought about him a lot over these past two months.
The elevator dinging pulled me away from my thoughts. I stepped in. My fingers hovered over the button.
Should I or should I not?
I groaned out a fuck and stepped out of the elevator. My heels clicked against the floor as I walked over to Jude's office.
I opened the door.
“Fine, I'll go on a date with you.”
Jude looked over at me, eyes wide. “you will?”
“Yes. But no one can know.”
Jude stood up. “Ok, nobody has to know.”
-
I was now sitting in Jude's car as he drove wherever he was going to take me. We haven't said a word since leaving the office. I was feel nervous but at the same time excited.
Jude pulled into a restaurant that looked extremely expensive.
“Ok we're here” Jude unbuckled his seatbelt. I did the same. Jude got out before me, walking to my side of the car and opened the door for me. I stepped out, muttering a small thank you.
We walked into the restaurant and got seated by one of the waitress.
“Wow this is nice.” I took a look around taking it all in.
“Yeah this is one of the best restaurants in town.” Jude smiling at me made my face heat up. It was such a beautiful sight. I quickly looked down at my menu and began to look at everything on there.
The waitress soon came to our table taking our orders. When they left Jude began to talk. “So what made you change your mind?”
I looked at him confused.
“Out with me.” he answered understanding my confusion.
“Oh right. I don't know.. I just thought why the hell not you know.” I laughed awkwardly mentally cursing myself.
“Well I'm happy you came. I've been dying to take you out.”
Before I could ask him to explain the waitress returned with our drinks. I smiled at her, muttering a thank you before she left again.
“You've been dying to take me out?”
Jude nodded. He stopped making eye contact with me as I can tell he was growing embarrassed. I smiled.
Yeah. Have you seen yourself. You're… fucking stunning.”
My cheeks heated up at his words. “Really?”
“Yes absolutely.” Jude reached over, grabbing my hand that was sitting on the table. Butterflies filled my stomach making me tear my eyes from his.
“No no look at me.”
I look back up at Jude. “you don't believe me?”
“Well nobody has ever told me that before so yeah I guess I don't.” I tilted my head to the side as I spoke. Jude hummed understanding. His hands burned into mines as he continued to hold them.
It wasn't long before our food came. We are and made small talk with one another. I'm very happy with the fact I decided to come out with Jude tonight.
When we walked back to his car, Jude's arms circled my waist. I smiled leaning into his side. Jude helped me back into the passengers seat before he got into the drivers seat.
We drove in a comfortable silence till Jude reached my apartment.
“Do you wanna come up? I have a bottle of wine I haven't opened yes.”
Jude nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt. I got out and Jude followed me up to my apartment.
I walked in to my apartment after unlocking the door, When the door shut behind Jude I turned to him. The way he was looking at me tells me he wasn't there for simply wine.
He stepped closer to me to the point his forehead was resting on mines. My heart thumped against my chest as our nose brushed.
“Can I kiss you?”
Just fucking do it already. “Yes you can.”
Jude didn't need to be told twice. His lips pressed against mines in a instant. I shut my eyes letting my lips sync with his. God his kissing was better than I imagined. I felt woozy right now.
His hands found my waist pulling me closer to his waist. I could feel something pressed against me.
“Are you hard?” I asked when I pulled. “What do you think?” Jude's lips found my neck. I smirk pushing him off of me. “follow me.”
I grab Jude's hand leading him to my bedroom. I kicked off my heels along the way. When we got to my room I pushed Jude onto the bed.
I climbed on top of him, my lips finding his instantly. A moan fell from my throat as our tongues collided with one anothers, fighting to explore each other's mouths.
I grind my hips against Jude's boner earning a groan from him. His hands found my waist and slowly started to guide me.
I clenched around nothing as I moved slowly against him. The feeling of his rough pants mixed with my thin panties made me pull away and bury my face into Jude's neck as a moan spilled from my lips.
“I need to be inside you so bad.” Jude whispered in my ear as he still guided me. I sat up and tugged off my shirt. My hands found Jude's suit pants. I tugged down the zipper. Jude helped me pull down his pants and then his boxers.
Now it was my turn; I pulled off my dress leaving me in my black laced bra and panties. Jude sat up slightly leaving kisses on top of my breast.
I bite my bottom lip as he inched closer and closer to where I wanted him to be.
Jude's hands reached around my back and he unclamped my bra allowing my breast to spill out. Instantly his mouth closed around my nipple right after his tongue lapped at the bud.
A crying moan fell from my lips. It's been a while since I had sex. My mind was all over the place in a good way. I needed this badly.
jude pulled away looking up at me.
“Are you sure you want to do this love? There's no going back after this?”
Yes I'm absolutely positivity sure I want to do this. “Yes I'm sure.”
“Ok take off your panties.”
I did as Jude said pulling off my panties that were now soaked. Here I was completely bare in front of him. I felt nervous but I didn't let him notice.
Jude pulled me back on top off him. He lined himself up with me and before he pushed into me he looked at me for permission. I nodded slight and then it was game over.
My eyes fell shut as he stretched me out going further and further. When I was sure he wasn't going any further and began to move my hips.
Slowly and slowly me and Jude became adjust to one another. Sinful words fell from our lips as we fucked.
“Fuck you're so tight,” Jude grunted out. He had a tight grip on my waist as he helped me ride him.
“Can't believe I've been missing out on this pussy this whole time.”
I shuttered at his words and looked into his pretty brown eyes. “I saved it just for you. Haven't fucked anyone in months.”
“Yeah?” Jude grabbed my face pulling my closer to his lips. I nodded, whimpering when a moan fell from my mouth.
Jude kissed me. He kissed me hard. He was so fucking intoxicating. I'm not sure I'm going to be over him after this. Not that I wanted to be.
I pulled away my head falling back. The tightens in my stomach was growing every time I slammed back down on him. his tip brushed at my g spot over and over again.
“You gonna cum?” I looked down at Jude and nodded. “Yes, I'm so close.”
Before I could even grasp what was happening Jude had flipped us over leaving me on my back. My legs now on his shoulder creating a new sense of pleasure.
I gasped when he pushed in me. Holy fuck.
Jude fucked me, like really fucked me. My moans filled the room and I prayed my neighbors didn't hear anything. The tingling in my stomach was so damn close to breaking at any moment.
“Yeah, you like that huh.”
I looked up at him looking at the cocky smirk on his face that made him ten times more attractive.
With one more thrust, my back arched off the bed as I came around him. I tried my best not to moan too loud but boy did I fail at that.
Jude wasn't far behind. He pulls out cumming ropes on my stomach.
I felt the bed beside me dip and a grunt from Jude's lips. I opened my shut eyes and looked over at him.
“Are you ok?” Jude nodded. “Yeah I'm good. Are you ok? I wasn't too rough was I?”
I shook my head with a smile. “no you were perfect.”
Jude returned the smile. He leaned over and kissed my lips. When he was finished he climbed out of bed. I was confused as he walked out of my room until I heard the faucet on in my bathroom. A few seconds later Jude returned with a towel to clean me up .
My past partners never did that for me. This was new and I fucking love it.
“So are you staying the night or are you leaving?” I asked once Jude was finished. I watched as he thought about it for a second before giving an answer.
“I'd kill to spend a night with you but unfortunately I have to leave.” He came up to my side of the bed and placed a kiss on my cheek. “But I'll see you tomorrow thought.”
I nodded. Of course he would. We work together.
I watched as Jude go dressed.
I walked him to the door and with one more kiss he was gone.
When I returned back to my bedroom I couldn't stop smiling to myself. I finally got to sleep with the man I've been dreaming about. Sure he was my boss but who the fuck cares. I was on cloud 9
That night I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
-
The next morning
I walked into the office with a pep in my step. After the night I had yesterday I couldn't help it.
When I reached my desk I noticed some roses on them. I picked them up grabbing the note on them and read it.
I hope you had an amazing night. We should do that more often
Your secret admirer
I laugh to myself, placing the flowers back down.
My heels clicked against the floor as I walked over to the door.
With a small knock I opened it.
“Mr. Bellingham.”
Jude leaned back against his chair, smiling at me.
"Ms. Y/l/n."
Man I'm fucked
#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham#jude bellingham smut#Jude Bellingham fanfiction#Jude Bellingham x you
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The Thousandth Time (Astarion x GN!Tav)
Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav
Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here
Rating: Explicit, 18+
Summary: Astarion and Rogue!Tav make love for the thousandth time. In a bathtub.
Tags: Smut, Slice of life, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, bathtub sex, sloppy sex, seriously just sickeningly sweet smut, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Domesticity is romantic, Hand Jobs, Blood Drinking
A/N: Some context-- I wanted to write soft, gender neutral smut. And by the gods is this soft. I tried to look at what it's like to love someone for so long. In my experience, when you've been with someone for so many years, you still find a lot of love in the little things. which I hope I hit? Anyway, enjoy!!
Word count: ~5.3k
The thousandth time you make love to Astarion, you don't know it's the thousandth time.
It's a day like any other, really.
After a long day at the guild, you've arrived home, a sigh on your lips, a furrow to your brow.
"Whatever is the matter, my dear?"
You compose your expression and turn toward your lover. "Astarion," you start, a reflexive wistfulness to your tone. Gods are you glad to see him after a day like today. "Nothing is the matter. Nothing important anyway. Simply glad to be home."
Astarion gives you a look that says he doesn't quite believe you, but knows better than to pry too deeply into issues you'd rather not bring home. "Very well, darling. But you know I'm all pointy ears. Especially if Nine-Fingers has been difficult again."
"Ugh," you say, wincing in annoyance. "Do not say her name right now."
The vampire gives you a bright, toothy laugh. "That bad, eh?" You nod. He walks toward you, arms outstretched. "Mmm in that case, shall we call it an early night tonight?"
You dive into the comfort of his arms, holding him to you, inhaling his fresh, familiar scent. It feels like the day's troubles melt in his cold embrace, and the tension in your body finally relaxes. "That might be nice."
"Dinner first?" he asks, pulling away from you slightly.
You look into his warm crimson eyes, feel that same warmth reflected in your face. Of course, he’d check to see if your mortal needs have been met. "No need, I've eaten. How about you?"
Astarion brings a hand up to inspect your face, this way, then that. It’s as if he’s examining you for injury, not assessing if he can partake in a bit of your blood. "Mmm, you seem a tad tired, love."
"You know I'll manage. Besides, get my blood while it's still boiling with rage," you say, craning your neck for him in response.
"As delectable as that sounds,” he begins, letting go of your face, tracing his fingers along your neck. “I think a bath and bed ought to come first."
You want to argue the point, make sure he's fed to the best of your ability, but the yawn that escapes you is irrefutable. With nary another word, his hand is on the small of your back, guiding you toward the bath.
"Would you like to join me?" you ask him as you open the door. Your expression is calm, the question harboring no hidden intentions. Any other day, you may have raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, begun taking off your armor in a tease– but you're tired, simply not wanting to relinquish the feel of his arms around you.
"Certainly, if it keeps you from falling asleep in the tub…" he trails off, looking at you warily. He appears torn, somewhere between keeping you from drowning and keeping you from resting.
You give him a wry smile. “Imagine that. After felling all manner of beasts and men, finally succumbing to the tub.”
Astarion offers you a reluctant smile in return. “My love, I swear to every god above and below, if you die in any manner even remotely that ludicrous, I shall have to pretend not to know you at your funeral.”
“That’s fair,” you say, holding a hand out to him. “Best to make sure that doesn’t happen then, don’t you think?”
The man can’t argue with that, nor does he seem to want to. After an entire day away from each other, this closeness is exactly what the two of you crave. So he takes your offered hand, and follows you into the bathroom.
It has been years since you had added a tub big enough for the two of you in your house. While the two of you had accrued wealth enough for an entire bathhouse, you’d settled for a more modest setup. At least, modest in Astarion’s eyes.
The floor is made of the finest marble tiles, the walls of intricately laid and patterned brick. And in the center of the room, is the room’s main attraction: the enormous, magical tub. It’s long enough that you could comfortably lay down across the entire bottom, wide enough that you have to extend your arms to reach both sides. The outer edges are infused with enchantments to improve your bathing experience, and the tub itself is made of the highest quality crystal that gold can buy.
Once you enter the room, you activate the heat and water sigils along the basin’s edges and turn back to Astarion. “Would you mind grabbing some soaps from the shelf?”
He gives you a lopsided grin, eyes crinkling with amusement, but still moves to do as you ask. “Would you also like me to bathe you while I’m at it?”
“Oh, would you?” you ask half-joking. You begin to strip your armor off, piece by piece.
“Mmm,” he murmurs, picking out a few of his preferred scents from a shelf on the wall. He’s accumulated quite the collection now, enjoying mixing and matching as his nose guides him. “That could be arranged.”
You’re almost halfway through your armor when he returns, bottles of lemon, bergamot, and sage soaps in hand. “Ah, you know how much I love bergamot,” you say, smiling at it fondly, pausing halfway through undoing your leather straps.
“I know,” he says, placing them next to the tub before turning his attention fully to you. “I also know that you need help with that armor or we may be here all night.”
Holding your arms out wordlessly, Astarion starts to unbuckle each and every strap from the front of your padded armor. As he releases you from its confines, you take a deep, relieved breath and say, “Thank you, love.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he murmurs, leaving a long lingering touch along your now exposed collarbone. “While you strike quite the image in your armor, I think I much prefer you without.”
You laugh, feeling quite light in the now steaming room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your mind is straying quite far from rest, Astarion.”
The vampire shrugs, beginning to tug at your undershirt and small clothes with each of his hands. “Merely stating fact, my darling.”
With a few smooth movements, he’s taken off the last of your clothing, exposing every inch of you to the warmth of the room and the heat of his gaze. He seems just about ready to bury his head in your neck, begin covering every piece of you in kisses, when you speak, “Excuse me, are you planning to enter the bath in your house clothes?”
Astarion looks down at his own garb, the comfortable satins and silks of a man who spent the day lounging at home. When faced with your words and, ugh, logic, he says with a sigh, “Would you do the honors?”
You need no more invitation before your hands are on his soft, flowing shirt, running along it appreciatively. “Is this new?”
“It is,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “Do you like it?”
“It feels magnificent,” you respond, beginning to undo its buttons. “I may just have to steal it for myself one of these days.”
His lips purse at you. “You know, you could simply ask, darling.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” you taunt, pulling up on the shirt's edges, tugging it up and off of him. Now, faced with the plane of his ivory chest, your fingers act on instinct. They trail down his shoulders, trace the line of his pectorals, drop down the center of his stomach to the waist of his pants.
Astarion gives you a low, approving noise before asking you wryly, “Now whose mind is straying?”
“Not mine,” you respond, pulling his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. “My hands are just so tired, I’m sure you understand.”
“Surely,” he responds, as he pulls each foot out of his pant legs. “How is the water?”
The bath is steaming by now, visibly fogging up the room, but still, you bend down to skim your hands along its surface. “Ah, it’s warm,” you say, gripping the edge with one hand. “Maybe too warm?”
“No such thing,” he responds, and one of his hands lands next to yours as he bends down to feel the water for himself. The man gives a happy hum before asking, “Shall we then?” Then his now-wet hand is smacking your butt, his head gesturing toward the waiting water.
“Excuse you,” you say, indignantly, as you turn toward him. “I'm tired.” But you don't feel tired. Not after running your hands over his cold skin. Not after feeling the quick contact of his hand on your backside.
“Not to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you.”
As in, bathing or–? Luckily you don't have much more time to think about it before he’s lowering himself into the tub. Even with his quick movement, even with the water’s slight obscurity, you easily note that Astarion’s cock has stirred in interest.
Ah. While you hadn’t meant to illicit anything by inviting him… it’s certainly not unwelcome. It’s a good thing that your exhaustion is all but melting away under his loving touches.
Acutely aware of his sharp gaze on the length of your back, you turn to face away from him, grab the edge of the tub, and slowly enter its warmth. As was customary in your baths, he would start with your back, so you take a spot in front of him, leaving just enough room for him to settle behind you as he pleases.
Too much room clearly, as Astarion immediately scoots forward, extending his legs to each side of you. You feel his hardening length graze your backside as he does so and can’t help the smile that curves your lips.
"Astarion, dear,” you start, placing your hands on each of his knees under the water. “Are you certain you want to bathe me?"
“And why wouldn't I be?” He leans closer, planting a soft kiss along your spine.
You debate backing up into his groin to prove a point but instead shake your head. "No reason, I suppose."
He begins by lathering his hands in a mixture of soaps, carefully measured out by eye and feel. All the while, you sit before him, hands on each of his calves, thumbs repeatedly rubbing the ridge of his muscles. While he’d had a nice, calm day today, his calves are always so tight from sneaking about– and it’s the least you can do for the man that’s bathing you.
Then his hands get to work.
At first he drags both hands along your back, once, twice. Once he’s made sure that soap covers every inch of you, he starts massaging you, working the soap into your skin, kneading into your sore muscles.
Astarion knows your body so intimately and, after so many years of tending to each other, he rubs all of your tightest spots. His knuckles press deep into your neck. His fingers work around your upper back. His thumbs dig underneath the edges of your shoulder blades, working out the knots he knows lay beneath. And, by the gods, if you thought you’d been melting under his caresses before, now you’re practically a puddle.
You can’t help the noises that come out at the sensation of his nimble fingers at work. Your shoulders ache from a long day of sneaking, stabbing, and general tension of dealing with people– the relief is palpable in the way you relax into his touch, grip his legs, and release several breathy moans.
And with each moan, you can feel his cock growing firmer against you. After the first few, you can feel him shift closer with every noise he draws from you. Knowing your affect on him has always done something to stir the fire in you, and this time it has you shifting uncomfortably as heat blooms between your legs. The both of you spur the other’s building lust, all the while the fresh scent that Astarion’s concocted permeates the air.
Then, when it’s clear he’s done with your back, thoroughly satisfied with each gasping breath of pleasure, his hands drop from your shoulders. They tail down your back, playing along your spine. And, in an almost leisurely motion, they wrap around your torso, where they finally settle on your chest.
I don’t think this is a relaxing bath anymore, you think distantly. Yet you’re unable to resist leaning into his palms, arching into his touch.
Sensing your shuffles, Astarion curls further into your back, almost entirely flush to you now. His fingers feel their way to each of your nipples, first gently brushing against them, then thumbing over them each in turn. They respond eagerly, perking up under his delicate sweep.
“Astarion,” you begin, turning your head back to him slightly and raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” Your tone isn’t exactly admonishing– your voice comes out too quiet, desire muffling all other emotions.
His hands trail down your chest, past the surface of the bath water, settling on each of your thighs before he responds, voice low, lips inches away from your ear. “Making sure that every single centimeter of my beautiful darling is clean, of course.”
“Astarion, I thought you would be, ahh… taking care of me," you say, barely holding on to your trail of thought as his hands dip between your legs, brushing your sensitive core.
“I am taking care of you,” he whispers, finally closing the remaining distance between your back, his front. At the feel of his stiff cock pressing against your back, you give an involuntary gasp. He seems to enjoy your reaction, taking a moment to slowly grind the entire length of his hardened arousal along your backside once, before he settles between your cheeks. “Unless you’d rather leave all of this stress pent up, my dear?”
You’d been tired– been ready to bathe and head off to bed. But something about this man never fails to ignite the fire in your heart– or your loins. “I suppose not,” you murmur, releasing Astarion’s calf, running up his leg with your fingers, landing on his arm, gripping it closer to you.
“I knew you would see reason,” he says, taking your grip as guidance. His hand moves down to begin stroking your heat, building up steadily to the fast-paced rhythm he knows you like. In the water’s buoyant embrace, his actions feel a touch more fluid, his fingers more silken.
It has taken time experimenting together to reach this place– one of utmost security and intimate knowledge of each others’ bodies. But now that you’re here, you’ve found that Astarion’s agile fingers are obscenely precise in their movements. Like he knows exactly which pins to tumble to unlock your utmost excitement.
So you can't help the way you buck into his touch, nor the way the water sloshes around you both in response.
"Careful, love," he says, hand stilling. "We don't want to make a mess this time, do we?"
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember the last time this had happened, how the floor had been practically flooded. You should agree with him, make sure that such an incident doesn't occur again. But the front of your mind is wholly occupied, thinking only of how he's stopped moving his hand, how being careful may mean that he takes it too gently. "Mmm, we managed to clean it up well enough," you respond, jerking your hips back, pressing against him with need.
Astarion's laughter rings upon the bathroom's stone walls, before it turns into a groan as you roll your hips once more. His voice is a bit huskier when he responds, "You know we’re going to regret it later.”
You smile back at him, satisfied with the noise you’ve elicited. “Sounds like a problem for later, doesn’t it?” Then your hand squeezes his arm, motioning it back down to your now throbbing arousal. “For now, what was that about releasing my stress?”
“Oh very well… in that case, let’s find where you ache most, shall we?” Astarion murmurs, dipping his head, placing a kiss on the base of your neck. “Here?” Your shoulder. “Or perhaps here?” Then his hand settles back between your legs, fingers touching you in a rather delicate caress. “Or maybe here?”
You hum a noise of approval as his . “Oh, there.”
His fingers close on your swollen sex, rubbing languidly as he whispers in your ear, “Mmm, darling. So much tension…” A bit more pressure. “I must simply…” A bit faster pace. “Massage it all away…”
If anything, his touches cause you to grasp at his legs harder, all of the muscles in your body responding in kind to his ministrations. Your back arches instinctively, earning an exquisite groan from Astarion. So when his next stroke causes you to clench, you lean into it, grinding your ass back into the full length of his erection, sliding easily in the water’s low friction.
His other hand finds its way to your hip, helping you match his pace as you continue to rock into him.
The two of you fall into a beautiful, raucous rhythm, each open and generous with your vocal pleasure, the water’s regular splashes punctuating each movement.
“Yes, yes, gods, Astarion.”
“My sweet, you’re the only divine thing here.”
Then your words begin to lose sense, your rhythm begins to falter, and it’s clear that you won’t last much longer under his caring fingers.
You also know that Astarion hasn’t been tended to nearly as well as you have.
So you move to turn toward him. With how his full length twitches against you in urgency, your own nimble fingers ought to return the favor.
Astarion stops you, placing his unoccupied hand back on your chest to hold you in place. "Ah ah ah. Love, I'm here to help you."
"You are helping,” you start, pushing back against his hand. “But I don’t want to leave you like this.” ‘This’ is obvious as the man clearly exercises every ounce of self control he has judging from the visible veins on his arm, the way his legs squeeze reflexively around you each time he strokes you.
He gives you a reluctant groan, one that does nothing to hide his desire. “Must you always be so selfless?” His hand doesn’t release your chest though, and he begins tracing delicate, wet circles around one of your nipples, as he murmurs, “Fine, just let me continue.”
Staying in place for him, you reach back with one hand to feel for his cock. It’s almost unreal how naturally you slot around him, the way your fingers circle around its girth. The entire length, inch-by-inch, the pattern of his veins, the sensitive lip of his head– they’re all intimately familiar to you now. As is finding just the right grip, the right pace.
When you start to pump him in earnest, Astarion can't help but shudder, his movements losing their steady, pulsing beat. In losing his pace, he takes on a new one– erratic, a bit fumbling, but utterly intoxicating.
You're both stoking each other’s fires in tandem, wildly offset in your desperation to touch each other more and more and more.
The water feels almost cool compared to your heated core, to the sweet friction you're building together.
Astarion's face tilts into your back, grunting as he strains to right his tempo– his forehead presses against you, his cool exhale grazes your searing skin. His chilled touch is a reprieve in the sweltering fog of steam and heady lust. Hearing your sigh of relief, he seems all too willing to make more contact.
His lips crash onto your back roughly, and his fangs nick your skin. An involuntary shiver runs through your body as you imagine the pleasure his drinking evokes from you. As you imagine the man behind you lapping at your neck, moaning in satisfaction, flushed pink with your very blood–
"Take some blood,” you offer, breathless. Imagining would never be enough, you find yourself craving the real deal. So when you say your next word, it comes out more pleading than you intend, “Please."
“Whatever my dearest desires,” Astarion replies, voice low and rumbling. He removes the hand from your chest and places it on your shoulder, holding you in place as he places his lips at the crook of your neck. His nose rubs gently against your fleshly washed skin. “Mmm, you smell so good.”
Then his fangs pierce you.
When you first began your relationship, you hadn’t intended to enjoy his bites as much as you do, but after years and years of them, the pain hardly registers now. All you feel is close– So very close to the man you would gladly give your lifeblood to.
He draws a gulp, and you feel the blood course through you, into him.
Another drink, and heat builds in you as you feel his cock grow harder in your hand, his veins more prominent.
A third long pull of your blood, and you feel his fingers quicken at your aching arousal.
You jerk into his hand in reaction, trying to seek an outlet for your pleasure. Your mouth emits a whimper– you hadn’t been comfortable whimpering with Astarion at first, but after he drew one out of you, he couldn’t get enough.
He still can’t, and you feel his lips curl into a smile at your neck, his fingers move with more urgency.
All the while you continue stroking his length, fingers sloppy in your own hazy state. It doesn’t seem like you need your usual dexterity though, because Astarion is practically writhing with newfound reactivity. Drinking blood always leaves him especially sensitive.
One last shaky swallow and he removes his fangs from your neck. But not his mouth. His tongue begins lavishing your puncture wound furiously as he struggles to hold back his approaching peak.
With the way he haphazardly tilts his hips into you, it’s all too evident to you that he’s reaching his limit. He’s not afraid to tell you so either.
"My sweet," he all but moans into your ear. "I–I can't last much longer. May I?"
You know what he means, and you honestly can’t last much longer either– you’re positively light-headed from a mixture of bliss and blood loss. So you stop your movements, nod your addled head at him.
He removes his hands from your core and neck, reaching out to your legs. Pulling them out and apart, he shuffles behind you, moving impatiently.
Realizing he can’t do this alone, he gestures, motioning for you to put your legs up.
Still a bit dizzy, you carefully place each leg on either side of the tub’s edges, hooking yourself in place by the ankles. It feels a precarious balance, but you can hardly care when you’re this eager to have Astarion inside you.
Astarion seems just as eager, rubbing his length against your ass hungrily as you get into position.
Perched and ready for him, the man is quick to help once more– his hands grip your asscheeks and lift in a swift movement. You’re particularly buoyant in the water, and you rise higher than either of you had expected. Your hand instinctively reaches out, gripping the edge of the tub to brace yourself, and you hear Astarion give a deep chuckle from behind you.
Holding back your own almost giddy excitement, you try to compose yourself for him. Angling your hips up, you’re almost floating on the water for a moment as Astarion lines the tip of his cock with your entrance.
However, you’re instinctively clenching a second later when a pair of your lover’s fingers tease at your opening. You barely avoid clamping your legs back together at the sensation.
Recovering from the tickling probe, you look back to see a lust-drunk fanged smile, lips smeared with red. "Astarion, please,” you mutter. “I can't balance like this all day."
"Come darling, I know you’re quite talented," he taunts, easily gliding his fingers back in, curling until you truly do begin to lose balance.
"Astarion," you breathe out, clutching the side of the tub even harder to stay afloat.
Then his fingers slip back out, replaced a moment later by the head of his cock. “No need to worry, I have a seat for you right here.”
His palms cup your backside, his fingers squeeze, as you lower your hips back down, taking in his entire, slick length effortlessly in the water.
“Now isn’t that better?” he asks, grabbing your hips with one hand, the other finding yours on the side of the tub for support.
“Mmm,” is all that you manage, as you adjust to the sudden fullness. You haven’t lain with anyone else in so long, it’s hard to remember a cock other than his. Still, you can’t help but feel like he settles in you just right. Especially when you both slot together neatly, you taking him to the hilt.
Astarion drops another kiss on your back. “Comfortable?”
“Mhm,” you mumble. Now that you’re securely held in place by Astarion’s hips flush to yours, your legs hanging off the tub’s edges, you place your second hand back at your aching arousal. You begin to stroke yourself back into the same fervor Astarion had you in moments ago.
After a small, deliberate thrust of his hips, testing how you rise and fall in the water, Astarion starts moving against you. It’s slow at first, the water rippling out from you both in small waves. Then his hips rock back, only to drive back into you with sloshing force.
“A–ahh!” Sweet hells, he knows exactly how to hit your most sensitive spot. You had already been so heated, but now, with your lover’s full, hardened length pressing into you? You feel dizzy with pleasure.
Years of lovemaking, and you’re still in awe of how well he knows your body. It’s more than his previous experiences culminating in some kind of skillful paramour. No, this was built through time, trial, error, effort.
So as this gorgeous man you call love bounces you up and down in his lap, you feel yourself coming undone. Your breaths come ragged as you ride his cock, water spilling out of the tub with each and every buck. Your fingers clench the tub, barely holding on as you feel your pleasure coil tighter and tighter.
Astarion places kiss after kiss down your back, and you hear him murmuring, "Gods you're perfect." A harder kiss. "You feel so good." Another thrust. "Each." A nip at your skin. "And every." A thrust. "Time." Another kiss. "I–I love you."
For your part, you’re finding entire sentences difficult. With the feel of him throbbing inside you, the way his lips feel along your back, each roll of his hips, you're truly only capable of a few phrases. "Astarion." A splashing bounce. "I love you–" A loll back of your head. "Oh hells–" A dip of your hips. "I love you too."
When your peak finally runs through you like a shockwave, when you clench around him in ecstasy, those very same words are still on your lips. "I l–love you."
He moans at the sudden tightness, the muscles that now hold him deep within you. "Darling," he breathes. "Oh love. I can't–"
Astarion means to say that he can't hold on much longer. He'd already been so close, holding back only to keep your pleasure going. So you reach down to his fingers on your hip, as best as you can while still hanging on for dear life, and squeeze his hand. A wordless affirmation, a plea to join you, as he always has.
And it’s that silent communication that has his fingers lacing through yours, his neck craning back, his hips stuttering.
When he comes, there's no pretense or performance. There hasn't been for many years. So when you look back at his face in a hazy fuzz of emotion, the expression you see is utterly unbridled.
It's a look of sheer pleasure– his perfectly pale skin flushed a light rosy color, his usually impeccable hair stuck to his face in a mixture of sweat and water. His eyes are shut, his mouth agape as he spills into you.
So enraptured are you by the mundane beauty of his climax, that you’ve strained too far from your precariously balanced position. Your foot unhooks from the tub’s slippery edge and you fall onto Astarion’s lap with a large splash as he finishes. You’re both left panting and wet in the wake of both your and the tub’s peaks.
Water drips down your face, all of the soap bottles have been knocked from the edge of the tub. The high you’d felt just moments ago feels doused in the stark reality of making love in a bathtub.
However, when you feel Astarion’s breathy laughter on your back, feel his softening cock twitch with his last few thrusts, you know he’s still in fine spirits.
You stay together for a few moments as you both collect yourselves. Water is wiped from eyes, your second leg comes back into the tub, and several deep breaths are had. Once you’re relatively sorted, Astarion pulls himself out of you with a long, happy sigh.
The man falls back from you, sitting against the end of the tub in a tired flop. Then he’s patting the water in front of him, motioning you to join him in some post-coital cuddles.
You don’t need much more of an invitation.
Floating through the now much lower water, you stop just in front of him. Movements relaxed, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and scoot into his waiting embrace.
"So," you start, looking at the wasteland of water and strewn soap bottles around the tub. "Looks like we made a mess."
"I told you we would," he says, closing his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.
"I know," you say, leaning into him comfortably. Your body is truly exhausted now, but your mind is a buzz of joy. "It was worth it though."
He laughs into your shoulder, squeezes you tighter. "Feeling better, I take it?"
"Gods yes," you say, tilting your head into his silver hair. "Thank you."
"Oh my sweet, it was my utmost pleasure," he replies, and you can feel his smile on your skin.
You both lean back, grinning at each other like fools. The smiles stay, even when your lips meet in a soft, wet kiss.
You will need to clean the room, the tub, likely your bodies once again– but all you can truly feel right now is content. Enjoying Astarion’s gentle fingers as they trace a pattern onto your skin, the warm water all around you, you very nearly forget that today was merely a day like any other.
The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, it was messy and wet and silly– somehow, it was sweet, caring, and loving all the same.
The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, you didn't know it was the thousandth time.
Just as you hadn't known your tenth thousand kiss, nor your hundred thousandth 'I love you.' Were anyone to ask you about them, you might not even remember the days or events surrounding any of them.
What you do know is that each individual moment holds no less importance, that the affection shared between you doesn’t diminish with each recurrence.
You’re unable to quantify your love, nor would you want to. All you really want is Astarion– his soft lips, tender hands, and whispered words of love– until your dying breath.
#astarion#astarion x tav#fanfic#rogue + rogue#astarion x reader#astarion fluff#astarion fic#love at first knife#astarion fanfic#astarion x gn reader#astarion x gn!tav#baldurs gate astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion smut#soft smut#soft astarion#gn smut
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Dangerous Game
Twice Sana ft. Nayeon
Words: 4,400
A/N: Sana hella hot doe
Nayeon is sick and tired of Sana bragging about her blowjob skills yet again.
"And then," Sana says, waving her hands as she recounts her latest sexual conquest. "He came, like, everywhere. All over my face. My tits. My stomach. I swear I was just covered in cum."
"You're so fucking disgusting," Nayeon replies. "Seriously, what's wrong with you?"
"Nothing!" Sana chirps. "It's not my fault guys just explode when I suck their dick."
Nayeon groans,"I'm really sick of hearing about how great you think you are at giving head. I bet I'm just as good as you are."
"I doubt it," Sana says, shrugging.
"Bet."
"Fine. Let's bet, loser has to do whatever the winner asks. But how are we gonna prove it?"
"I bet Oppa is game. He's waiting for me to come home. Technically he's the best person to judge."
"Are you crazy? I'm not gonna suck your boyfriend's cock."
"Aww, scared you'll lose?"
"Fine I'll do it, but don't get mad if he falls in love with me."
"I think I'll survive." Nayeon kept up a strong face, but as per usual, she got too caught up in winning an argument. She didn't actually think Sana would actually follow through on this, but sure enough, Sana followed her into the cab.
You hear the sound of your door creaking open. "Nayeon, is that you?"
"Yea! Sana's here too by the way!"
She must've had too much to drink and was crashing over again. A sigh escapes as you get up to greet the two crazy women.
"Here Sana, you left your pajamas last time, you can sleep in these."
"Oh what's the rush Oppa? Don't you want to have a little fun?" Sana teases you, running her finger up and down your chest.
"You're drunk Sana. Go to bed."
"Oh I'm not drunk at all Oppa. Nayeon brought me back here to suck your cock." She says in the most casual tone, like this was an everyday occurrence.
Your mind races. You can't deny that you've fantasized about Sana before. She's constantly talking about how she gives the best head in the world. But you've never taken her seriously, and you didn't want to ruin your relationship with Nayeon by actually testing the theory.
"What the fuck?" You yell at Nayeon.
"Look," Nayeon starts. "She's just been bragging so much about her fucking amazing skills. I told her to prove she was better than me, and who else would know besides you. It's the perfect solution."
You can't believe the words coming out of her mouth. This had to be a dream. But you know Nayeon is the type of girl who sticks her foot in her mouth. This is real. You can't hide the shock on your face.
"I thought she'd back down, but she's pretty set on doing it."
"Oppa, can I please suck your cock? Pretty please?" Sana pleads. Her eyes are begging.
"Um..." The decision doesn't seem difficult from her perspective, but your heart is pounding like it's a life or death situation.
Without a moment to respond, Sana is already leading you to the couch. In one swift move, she sinks onto her knees, making easy work of your sweatpants, sliding them off completely in a moment. The fabric pools at your ankles as Sana nuzzles her face into your underwear. She eagerly presses her cheek and chin into your groin. You've always appreciated her bubbly, round face, but it takes on an extra definition as it's cradled by your crotch.
She leans back for a moment and you can feel her fingers stroking your cock over your briefs, her eyes filled with childlike glee as they bounce around. Sana licks the front of your underwear and moans with delight as she gets a first taste.
Her slender hands hook into the waistband and gingerly slide it down, holding you steady by the shaft.
"Oppa, it's bigger than I thought." Sana giggles before planting an almost innocent kiss onto the head of your dick.
"What's wrong Sana, don't think you can handle it?" Nayeon scoffs as she plops onto the other end of the couch, her feet tucked into her black skirt.
Sana shoots Nayeon a glare, "Size isn't an issue my dear Nabongs. It's just I haven't really done anything yet and he's so hard already. I love how eager he's being for me."
She emphasizes her last word by rubbing her fingers up your thigh, ending at the base of your shaft, keeping it as straight as possible while her mouth hovers inches above.
"Just suck his cock, I'm not here to watch you talk," Nayeon commands.
"Now, now what's the rush Nayeon?" Sana teases while her hands reach under her shirt and into her bra, tossing them over her shoulder. You're left slack jawed, Sana's cute perky tits previously only a dream. But now they're here, in front of you. She's here, in front of you.
"What's wrong, Oppa?" she whispers "You're acting like you've never seen a pair of tits before." She teases, knowing they're bigger than Nayeon's.
"Do you wanna play with them? It's okay. Here." She pulls your hands towards her, allowing you to squeeze her soft tits.
Your gaze remains locked onto her breasts, unable to fully take in the surreal situation. One second they were out, in a teasing peek and next, you were grasping them like an overeager schoolboy.
"I thought this was about sucking cock Sana."
"Oh Oppa, she's so impatient," Sana whines, "doesn't she know a great blowjob isn't just about sucking cock. It's about the whole experience." Sana teases, placing your cock in-between her breasts, jiggling the skin, stroking you, providing sweet warmth as your tip peaks through with every movement.
"Fuck Sana..."
"Do you like that? Do you like my tits rubbing all over your big hard cock? It's okay if you do."
Nayeon is staring from the corner of your eye. "You're going to have to try harder than that to beat me," she sneers.
"See, he likes it. Isn't that right Oppa?" Sana ignores, bouncing her tits on your cock. "Doesn't that feel nice?" Sana beams at your disheveled face, pleased at your helpless reaction to her tits.
"Mmm, that's so hot, Oppa. It feels so warm sliding up and down." She interlocks her hands together, squeezing her tits together. Her tits aren't big enough to fully cover you, but it's just enough. Your cock presses into the valley of her cleavage as she starts fucking them against you, and a sight unlike any other. Sana has been teasing Nayeon this whole time but when she says those last few words, the sneer and confidence falls off her face, turning into an unadulterated gape.
Her tongue sticks out, licking the tip whenever it pops up from her squishy embrace. "Mmm, Oppa, I can taste you already." Sana kisses your slit with a hungry moan, letting some saliva drip down her chin and onto the space between her breast.
"Uggh. Can you fucking suck it already." You can hear the impatience in Nayeon's tone, finally losing all pretense and sincerity.
"This is just an appetizer," Sana interjects, stopping her jerking movements. A smirk on her lips and and naughty look emerges on her face.
"Oh my god Oppa, I can't believe how wet I am. Look." She slips a hand into her pants, and then takes it out, her fingers glistening with her juices. You look down, seeing your cock still poking up from between her tits, but also her fingers, coated with her juices.
"Here have a taste."Sana brings her index and middle finger to your mouth, gently pushing the liquid inside, tracing your lips as you gulp down her arousal.
She squeals in joy. "Oh Oppa, how naughty of you. Do you like the way I taste, hmm?" Her voice coos, watching your reactions. It's like you're drunk, entranced by the sight before you, stuck in a euphoric daze. Sana's so fucking sexy it makes you wonder if there is any woman alive that could top this.
"Come on Sana, quit fucking around." Nayeon sighs with annoyance.
"Silly, silly Nayeon, the key is making them beg. Don't you want Oppa begging for it?" Sana giggles.
"If there's not some cock sucking action I'm gonna declare myself as the winner."
"So impatient. Ok Oppa, let's give Nayeonie a show she won't forget." Sana gets back between your legs and takes a deep breath, inhaling your musk.
"Oh my god, Oppa, your scent is so intoxicating." Her hot breath is blowing against your cock. "I can't wait any longer. I need to taste you." She places a kiss on the tip, then another, then another, each time lingering a little longer than the last. The tip of her tongue slides along the sides of your cock as Sana explores with a curious excitement.
Nayeon scowls. "So your fucking blow job is going to be taking all day."
"He's just soooo hard." Sana caresses the throbbing appendage with admiration. Her right hand strokes your inner thigh in long soothing motions, the pads of her fingers tracing lines up and down your tense muscle.
It's slow, torturously slow. Light kisses and licks cover every surface of your cock, the feel of her tongue now a sensation rather than individual touches. Her tongue starts to flick against the underside of your tip, sending a shock through your body. You can feel the warmth of her breath, the pressure of her tongue. Her eye contact is unwavering, rubbing your thighs up and down with her soft hands.
You and Sana are now in your own world. A private space for the two of you, separated by both time and distance.
There's an excruciating pause. The room stills. There's no sounds, no movement. Her eyelashes flutter as she blinks. You're frozen. You can't breath, can't blink. It's an eternity.
The air moves with the slow grace of a dancer as she sucks you between her lips. Her eyes light up when the tip meets her tongue. Sana sighs, relaxing her shoulders. She lets herself get lost, transported by her desire. With the slow rhythm of a slow song, she slowly sinks lower, deeper.
Sana is worshiping your cock, treating it like it's the only one in the world. She's moaning and humming, sending vibrations through your shaft. As great as it feels, there's a special technique about her, knowing exactly how to keep you from cumming. As if she's been with you for years. She reaches for your hands, interlocking your fingers together, making this feel like a tender loving moment rather than just your run of the mill blowjob.
Her eyes remain fixated on yours, never even once breaking focus. It's one continuous moment until she pulls back for breath. A thick, translucent web stretches between the two of you. A dewy layer of spit is now surrounding your cock, dripping off the sides of her lips. You can feel the edges of her lips form a perfect ring as your cock passes between her lips. She is hypnotic, the speed is torture, but it's impossible to stop looking.
She lets you go, slowly inching up until she's next to your ear. "Oppa, can I tell you a secret?" She's whispering, like she's scared Nayeon will hear.
"Sure."
"I really love doing this, especially when it's a cock like yours. I can't wait to make you cum. I can't wait for you to explode in my mouth.
"I can't either."
"But I wanna make you wait a little bit, cause when you finally cum, it's going to be amazing." She trails a string of saliva down from your ear, running her finger past the puddle of spit still leaking off her chin and finally across your balls. She pecks her lips on the underside of the head, all the while looking like a kid about to play with their new toy.
Nayeon hits you. "Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Um...yeah," You whisper back. You've nearly forgotten she's here.
She seems satisfied at your answer, but it feels weird admitting that in front of her.
Sana's right back into action, your fingers still interlocked so she's using only her mouth. This time she's focusing on the tip, flicking her tongue and sucking on your head.
"Fuck Sana..."
She chuckles, feeling accomplished, her grin big as can be. The two of you resume your rhythm as you grind your cock against her welcoming cheeks. Slowly working her way down the shaft until her mouth is about halfway down. She inhales, breathing deeply, smiling even with her mouth full.
"God, I love your scent." she moans out seductively on her way back up. The hot air of her words permeate and swirl with your sweat. Her pace is further teasing, steady at first then almost playful as she slows and pauses, relishing the torment it has on you. You can feel her tongue working its way down, swirling around your cock. You're so close to bursting, but she knows just when to stop. Her hands pull away, squeezing your balls, ignoring your shaft, focusing all her attention on them. She's cupping them, massaging them, using her tongue on the one not attended by her hands.
Her hot, wet tongue tickles and warms them as she begins sucking and groping, working in unison. Knowing it felt good, but wouldn't cause you to cum. It's a change in tempo, something else to enjoy until it was time again.
"You're gonna be a good boy and hold out until I've shown Nayeon all my skills right?"
"Oh, so he's your new puppy. At least he's useful," Nayeon is curious, testing the waters, seeing how much she can push her.
Her fingers are tracing circles around your balls, sending shivers up your spine. Her other hand is slowly jerking up and down, sizing you up, using her hand to measure your cock.
"I think I can fit you." Sana calmly states, flashing a wink.
"What? What does that mean?" Nayeon yells out.
"Shush, Nayeon, let me concentrate." She tells her off and returns her eyes to you. They're dark and hungry.
Her hands position the tip between her puckered lips. Nayeon stares at the scene unfolding before her, feeling the waves of lust emanating off of Sana. She's got her hands wrapped around your shaft, holding it like a weapon. Your heart races, eyes closed, feeling the pleasure pulse.
You feel a rush, an impending doom, but one you welcome. A moment of heaven, a moment of hell, it doesn't matter to you. Lower and lower she goes, only a couple inches in and you're already overwhelmed. A surreal bliss radiates, filling your mind with an unbelievable pleasure.
There's moaning and slurping, the sound of her muffled voice vibrating through you. She's going further, inch by inch, her eyes locked with yours, fitting more of your cock into her throat every time she goes back down.
Her pace remains the same as ever, steady and sure. A thrust in, followed by a drag out. Up and down, the same torturous speed, letting the sensation flow through your entire body. There's a smug grin, prideful smile, confident in herself. Her hands roaming your inner thighs, content with her conquest, basking in it.
Nayeon stares, but with a different emotion. You feel the heat of her gaze, the anger behind them.
"It's not possible. His dick is way too big. It'll never fit. I've never even been able to-"
"Hush, Nayeon, we're not talking about you right now." She chides. Her voice is softer, kinder, the commanding tone dropping slightly.
Sana's pace quickens, the sound of her gagging and choking fills the room. Drool is dripping down her chin, and she's going faster and faster. Her nails dig into your thighs, her eyes tearing up as she forces her mouth all the way down. Her cheeks are puffed up and bulging, her neck stretches out.
"Holy shit, Sana." Nayeon jumps out of her seat, her eyes wide.
"Holy shit," you echo, feeling her sharp pointed nose tickling pressing into you.
Her tongue is jittering from the girth filling her mouth, sending wonderful vibrations through you. There's a grunt, she's struggling, straining. Sana holds it there for what seems like forever. Your cock is being squeezed by her throat, and you can feel every breath, every twitch, every swallow. After an eternity, she slides back up, and releases your cock from her throat. A string of spit and precum follows, breaking as she licks her lips. Sana looks pleased with herself, savoring the sight before her.
"Holy fucking shit," Nayeon can't hide the shock, can't help but step closer to get a better look at the ridiculous sight.
"I told you size wouldn't be an issue." Sana winks at Nayeon.
Nayeon scoffs, folding her arms in annoyance.
"Oh Oppa, do you like seeing Nayeon pout? That's such a cute look on her."
There's a few minutes of respite, Sana sucking you down every once in a while but nothing more. It gives you a chance to breathe, a moment to process. The image before you is difficult to process, as if you're having an out of body experience.
"Let me try again. It'll be easier the second time." She's not lying. The next time is even smoother. Her throat is slick with spit and precum, and your cock slides in like a knife through butter. There's sucking and slurping, coating your cock with her saliva. She's going up and down, over and over, and the pleasure is insane.
It's not like she doesn't have a gag reflex, she's using it to her advantage. She's gagging on your cock, spit leaking everywhere, the sounds of her throat a sinful delight. After taking a deep breath her head becomes a blur going faster and faster. Your cock is disappearing and reappearing, over and over again. You can't believe the sight before you. Sana, the picture perfect idol, is deepthroating your cock, gagging and choking herself over and over. Her hands have abandoned you, caressing her throat, stroking where you cock is pushing her insides outward.
She looks up at you with her pretty, innocent eyes. The term cutie sexy starts to make sense, so adorable, yet obscene, like an angel became a slut. You're groaning, and panting, stuck in an endless maze of pleasure.
She's drooling, saliva dripping down your balls to her chin, not even bothering to wipe her mouth. She just keeps bobbing her head up and down, faster and faster, moaning like a pornstar. You can see tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Your cock is throbbing and twitching. You're on the precipice of climax. You can't hold it back any longer.
She brings her mouth up, making a loud pop as she slips you out of her lips. "Oh no Oppa, you can't cum yet. Not until I've showed off all my skills to Nayeon." holding your cock in her hand and slapping it against her tongue.
"What are you doing?" Nayeon questions her, unsure on what else Sana has to show.
"Shush Nayeon, It's only the second round, and I promised Oppa three. This one is my favorite." She coos to you, sweetly kissing your tip.
"Stand up Oppa." You stand before her, looking down on her beautiful messy face. She places your hands on her head.
"Do you wanna fuck my mouth, Oppa?" Sana teases. "Here, grab my hair and shove it in."
You're stunned. This is all happening so fast.
"Come on Oppa, fuck my mouth." She takes your cock back into her mouth, and you feel the pressure from her hands pulling you forward.
There's hesitation on your side, a lingering reservation, a fear of overdoing it. You're a bit unsure, you've never been deepthroated before, yet alone fucked someone's face. You're afraid to hurt her.
Her lips curl upward, smiling like an eager puppy, letting your cock rest, leaving you suspended. With your grip still on her head, Sana waits for you.
"Come on Oppa," Nayeon snarls, "stop being such a pussy. You know she can take it. She just swallowed your whole damn cock in one go. Stop being a little bitch and fuck her face."
You thrust forward, and immediately the pleasure is overwhelming. Her hands are still pushing, and now your hands are pulling. You're thrusting and pulling, fucking her face. The feeling is unlike anything you've felt before. It's wet and sloppy, the sounds of her mouth a depraved melody. Your hips are moving faster and faster, her eyes are wide and full of lust, begging for you to use her.
The reality of the situation sinks in as Sana sucks harder and harder.
You're facefucking Sana. You're fucking an idol with every inch of your hard cock. She's pushing her head into your crotch and you're burying her face.
You're not gentle, you can't be. It's so wet and hot, and the sensation is insane. Her nails are digging into your thighs, and you're grunting and groaning, pounding her throat like an animal. She's slapping her face against your crotch, taking everything you're giving her. She's choking and gagging, drool pouring from her mouth. Her fingers are exploring, stroking the bottom of her throat and her neck.
You're groaning. This is not a blowjob this is something else altogether. Your hands are tight on her head and your mind is hazy. You're so turned on by her. You're mesmerized by her. You can't stop fucking her mouth. She's moaning and crying, but tells you to fuck her harder every time you pull out. You're focused solely on Sana and her perfect mouth. She's not even sucking - just letting you use her mouth as a cocksleeve. Her tongue is flicking over your tip whenever it enters her mouth. And it's so fucking hot.
You're at your limit. You can't hold it in anymore. You're gonna explode. And then Sana wraps her hands around your ass and squeezes, pulling you closer, forcing you to push deeper into her mouth, your balls pressed against her chin.
"Sana, I'm gonna -"
And that's her cue, her throat constricting and contracting, massaging your head while it's buried deep inside. You didn't even know this was possible. Her final trick. Her ace in the hole. A sense of pleasure that previously only existed beyond your wildest dreams. Your body tenses, and then you let go, the hardest orgasm you've ever experienced in your life, mouth or otherwise. The world goes white and the only thing you're aware of is the warmth and wetness of Sana's throat.
Cum explodes into her mouth, filling her up. She can't take it all, it's too much, and she coughs, and chokes. She pulls off, harshly stroking your cock with her hand. You're still cumming, some landing on her face, her tits, in her hair. Your entire body is shaking.
"Fuck," you groan, collapsing onto the couch. She taps on your thighs and opens her mouth, showing you the pool of creamy liquid collected on her tongue.
"Oppa, you came so much!" she says after gulping down the mouthful.
"I swallowed so much and there's still so much on me." She's scooping your cum off her face, licking her fingers clean, moaning with every drop she swallows. Her breasts are covered, and she's gathering as much of it as she can, putting her hands between her legs, scooping up any drops that landed on her thighs. She takes your hand and puts it on her chest, covering her nipple with your cum, rubbing it around her nipple, teasing it with your sticky seed.
"I told you Nayeon! An explosion! Cum everywhere!" Sana winks and teases her with a wag of her tongue.
Nayeon rolls her eyes.
Sana goes back for more, sucking your cock until every last drop has been extracted. She's cleaning you off with her tongue, kissing the head of your cock, and then she's rubbing her face on it, like a cat nuzzling her owner. "Mmm so good," she coos.
"That's enough, you've proven your point."
"Aww, but Nayeon, look how cute he is, all tired and sweaty." Sana pouts, giving your cock one last kiss before getting up.
"Yeah, well, you look like a total slut." Nayeon snaps. "Seriously, you've got cum all over your face, your hair's a mess. Not to mention, there's a fucking puddle of spit on the floor."
"So?"
"So? Do you have any idea what would happen if someone saw you like this?"
"They'd fall in love with me." Sana teases. "Oppa did."
"Don't give me that shit. You know what? Fine, you proved your point. I guess I owe you a favor." Nayeon takes a deep breath and then exhales, bracing herself. "Whatever you want, just do it quick, and don't tell anyone, okay."
"I'm so fucking horny after all of that." She looks at you, then back at Nayeon. "Threesome?" She's fluttering her eyelashes, acting more innocent than she has all evening.
"Th-threesome?" You stammer.
"Of course." Sana says, matter of factly. "You didn't think I was going to leave without taking care of myself did you?"
"Wait a second, I never said I'd do that!"
"Come on, we're both so horny, I'll bet Oppa is hard again just thinking about us making out. I bet he's already got a load saved up. Besides, he's already fucked my throat. How much worse could it get?"
"No! Absolutely not!"
"Please? Please, please, please? Pretty please, Nayeon? Oh, does this help? I swear I have the best pussy around, guys can't help but explode inside of me. Want me to prove it?" She was stripping as she spoke, not a shred of shyness or timidness anywhere to be seen.
"Oppa, look." She moans, sliding her fingers out and showing the string of sticky fluids connected to them. "Look how wet I am. You did this to me. All that talk about cocks and cumming. I'm so fucking horny. And it's all because of you." She slides her fingers back inside, her eyes rolling back in pleasure. "I'm so close to cumming."
"You're the worst." Nayeon snaps, grabbing her hand and pulling it out of her pussy. "Fine, whatever, but only cuz you won the bet. I'm not doing this because I want to."
"I love you, Nayeonie!" Sana squeals, throwing her arms around her friend. "Come on Oppa! Don't leave us hanging. We'll be waiting in your room." Sana grabs her clothes and skips away, leaving Nayeon alone with you.
"This is such bullshit. Why did she have to be so good at that? Ugh.." Nayeon mumbles. "Come on, I don't wanna keep her waiting...."
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Your relationship with them [18+] PAC
pile 1 ----> pile 2
pile 3 ----> pile 4
🍂 meditate on the pics and pick whichever one calls to you the most. this reading is divided into two parts: your general life dynamic and your sex-life. you might feel drawn to more than one pile, which means you may have messages in other piles for you as well! if you don't feel particularly drawn to any pile, the messages in this reading might not be intended for you. since this is a general reading, take what resonates! 🍂
🍂Pile 1:
ᯓ★ General:
I'm getting your person is somewhat ambitious and a planner. They may have come from humble beginnings and thus, they know the value of hardwork and pragmatism. There's probably a lot of LGBTQ+ individuals in this pile. I'm getting a lot of sapphics in particular?
I'm getting your partner embodies the more "dominant" or active energy in the dynamic here. They're probably just used to being the one who does most of the doing in their life. I'm getting workaholic vibes as well. Your person feels like you really pull them off their balance. Or like, you can easily shake them off even when they try to hold themselves together. I feel like for a lot of you it's probably unintentionally too which kinda frustrates them lol.
If you lived together, they might probably be really busy all the time due to their nature as well as circumstances. I feel like work and responsibilities may be overwhelming in the relationship. There might even be arguments due to a clash of values or perspectives about some matters. They might not be able to meet your emotional needs at times due to them generally being more head-oriented. I'm getting warnings from spirit regarding communication. All relationships are built on trust and healthy communication, so don't be discouraged! With time, I feel this could be a very mature and deep relationship based on security, trust and hardwork overcoming obstacles together. However, if issues exacerbate and you find that they're not the right one for you then the choice to decide on the future is always your right.
ᯓ★ In the bedroom:
Your person finds you extremely tempting and irresistible. They may even have been lusting after you for quite a while before you guys got together. I'm getting that they were pining after you heavily and being extremely downbad lol. They love watching you and they may even start fantasizing about you midday whenever they look at you 😭💀 They might do it solo a lot with you in their mind. They might be lowkey afraid that others might feel the same about you and it makes them a bit anxious even though I feel like they might hide it outwardly.
There's a lot of passion in the bedroom between the two of you. Their feelings towards you are very intense, almost as if they're directing it all at once with a laser focus. They might get very consumed in the bedroom, like nothing else exists in the moment except the two of you. They might like receiving oral from you a lot or at least they fantasize about it quite a lot of times. They might even be dominant in the bedroom and have fantasies of you submitting to them. I feel like they're the possessive type, and this might even show from subtle things in the moment like the way they grip you just a bit harder, almost as if they don't want to let you go.
A lot of yall in pile 1 might be pillow-princesses. I feel like you also love teasing your partner, not usually in an overt way but through more subtle mannerisms. Your partner notices this and it drives them craaazyy lol. Overall, I feel like you really satisfy each other in bed and you might also subconsciously soothe a lot of each other's insecurities and deeply-rooted fears. Sometimes, the sex between you two might get so intense that you both lose sight of everything else-- maybe you leave your room/house really messy everytime you do it too. They might like to get rough with you in bed but there's also aftercare and I feel like a lot of you really enjoy the aftercare sessions a lot, almost like that's the main "treat" you're after even though the sex is good.
🍂 Pile 2:
ᯓ★ General:
I feel like quite a lot of my pile 2 individuals are very idealistic people and hopeless romantics. Maybe some of you are even inexperienced in the matters of love and might have a lot of ideas and fantasies about the perfect relationship, which might even be unrealistic at times (hey, nothing wrong with it as long as it's not negatively interfering with your life). I feel like this relationship will be nothing like you've dreamed of, and that's not necessarily in a bad way. In a way, it'll teach you valuable life lessons and give you a more grounded and mature perspective about the reality of relationships.
Your person is a very free individual and they're the type who doesn't hold anything back. Maybe their boundaries are very expansive, and they might appear extremely open and accepting. They might be very materially prosperous and abundant as well. I feel like your person is very sociable and might be someone who belongs to "high society". I'm getting Gatsby vibes-ish outwardly. Very composed, elegant and smooth as well in their exterior-- almost like they have it all together, a social chameleon and a charming influencer.
However, I'm getting that there might be a duality to them. They might even be depressed lowkey. They might not have the healthiest relationship with their emotions. It's like, they were never really taught how to handle pain and they might even keep that aspect of themselves neglected, which might lead to detrimental consequences as a result. Perhaps my pile 2s were drawn to the outer brilliance of this person because they do appear really bright, like a treasure. They seem like the ideal prince of your dreams who could fulfill all your needs initially. However, as the relationship progresses, you discover more and more aspects of them that aren't entirely beautiful. This relationship comes with struggles, especially mental health struggles for a lot of you, and it might even be harder than you initially expected. However, at the end, you will also find a lot of growth individually. Also, I'm getting that some people here in this pile were attracted to both pile 1 and 2 and found overlapping messages relevant to their situation in both piles?
ᯓ★ In the bedroom:
Your person might have some kinkier desires when it comes to the bedroom that they don't just allow anyone to know. I'm getting it might be a bit shameful for them to admit, that's why it's mostly secret. They might even take you to a sex dungeon to do it at times so that you can fulfill that desire.
For your person, sex is a very intimate thing and they might really like privacy in the moment-- in the sense that they're allowing you and you alone to see something noone else is allowed to know. It takes a lot of trust for them to open up, and I'm getting that a major overarching theme in the dynamic between you two is the merging of boundaries and letting yourself go, as if holding nothing back out of a decision to trust and find security in each other.
I'm getting that they might think of themselves as "hideous" deep down, not necessarily in appearance but just as a general feeling. They might see you as something "pure" that they're tainting (kinda depressed vibes yeah). Reminds me of that one Nine Inch Nails song: Closer. Perhaps they even see you as "above" them and might feel undeserving of you deep down. I'm also getting that they really like your chest. They really enjoy sucking them too. Perhaps you might take a more nurturing role in the bedroom for them, soothing them and making them feel loved and safe. You might take control more often than them in the bedroom and they also enjoy getting tied up while you're free to do anything to them. They might like being more on the receiving end of sex. They might also idolise you a lot.
🍂 Pile 3:
ᯓ★ General:
For my pile 3s, what I'm getting is that when you start a relationship with your person you might be in somewhat of a pinch financially. Maybe you or your partner might be having a hard time finding employment or maybe your job will face some problems where it'll be difficult to get by with simply wages. I'm getting that you guys will start a creative partnership. It'll be something decided on a whim, maybe you will just decide to go "fuck it" and take a leap of faith to see where fortune takes you and start a creative outlet, perhaps a new business venture. You (plural) might be full of ideas and innovative spirits.
This relationship will be more of a mutual partnership and you guys are like best friends who are also lovers kinda deal. There are a lot of different people here... for some, I'm getting that you might get an offer for help from the other but you will reject it due to a possibility for imbalance in the relationship and you will choose your freedom and pursue an independent path, which you'll be successful at in the end anyway.
This relationship will lead to a sort of rebirth for both of you as individuals, mostly your person though. They might go through a major transformation in the future of this relationship. In the future, there's a lot of worries and anxiety coming from your end regarding your ability to manifest your dreams. A lot of you are people who like to dream big and have high hopes. So maybe you're afraid that you might not succeed and the circumstances surrounding you will start to weigh on you a bit more than you can handle. However, I'm getting that the hurdles present in this relationship are not only yours to carry alone. This relationship seems very balanced mostly and it's one of those relationships where you both go through troubles together hand in hand to support each other through thick and thin.
ᯓ★ In the bedroom:
I'm getting a lot of emphasis on your bottom. Maybe it's your person's favourite part of your body for them. They really enjoy giving you oral, doing it while watching you from behind or just watching that part of you. The sex between you two might be something that feels really transformative. You might do it a lot to release mundane stress and tension from daily life and it really helps soothe you at the end of the day. They might also enjoy giving you oral from below while you're preoccupied with some work at your desk.
You guys might also indulge in semi-public sex. You might do it in situations where there's a risk of being seen by others. I'm also getting sex in the park lol. You or your person might be into voyeur fantasies as well where there's a third party involved to watch. Or maybe they'll introduce a third party in your sex life as well. However, the focus is more on pleasing you than them and that's what the third party is for. Sometimes, they might even show up at the workplace secretly and have sex with you lol.
I'm seeing that your person genuinely has a lot of deep feelings for you and wants you to be cared for and happy with them. They might express this through sex where they'll focus more on your satisfaction than theirs. It's like, your satisfaction makes them satisfied and turns them on. Sometimes, they might even be really worried that you don't want them as much as they want you. They have a tendency to not voice their discomfort and it might lead to some repressed resentment so an advice I'd give out is communicating your boundaries with each other in a healthy manner. Honestly, deep down what they really want is your attention while you forget about everything else and just focus on them. They lowkey love being pampered and are kinda needy.
🍂 Pile 4:
ᯓ★ General:
For my pile 4s, I'm getting that there's a certain sense of imbalance in this relationship. Your person might be in a position (whether socially, financially, professionally or elsewhere) where they're above you and you guys aren't on equal ground. This might create somewhat of a power dynamic and they might hold more than you do. Be careful, because for some of you I'm getting that there's a potential for abuse here, or some other form of exploitation due to how severely skewed the dynamics of the relationship are.
I'm seeing there's also a good potential for marriage. They might come to you with a marriage offer and do their best to woo you. You're like a wish-fulfillment to your person and they really desire you as someone that seems special and magnetic, like a distant star. For some, I'm getting that you might even be younger than them, or you have a more youthful and bright energy to you that they really admire and look at fondly. It's because you have this spark to you that they find really rare and you pull them in with your brightness. I'm also getting that your presence gives them a lot of hope.
For this relationship, I'm getting that your person likes to hold control over the dynamic. They might lowkey have a manipulative streak in that they make situations go a certain way in subtle manners so that it leads to the ideal outcome they want. I'm getting that a lot of my pile 4s are very intelligent and you might discern them more easily than they think. You two might enjoy playing mind games with each other a lot as a form of stimulation. I'm getting that one anime "kaguya-sama" vibes where the couple did a lot of silly shit to get each other to fall for them lol. Maybe a lot of yall are sapiosexuals as well.
ᯓ★ In the bedroom:
The two of you have really intense chemistry and the sex is extremely passionate as well. It's like when you're together, you tend to drown in pleasure and forget everything else. Really rough sex, intense positions and hot and heavy movements, etc. You guys really get into the moment when you're together and due to that you might end up somewhat sore or just really tired afterwards when you're done.
In a way, I feel like both of you are more focused on your own sensations and pleasure and focus everything to whatever you're feeling in the moment. Not that you don't please each other or don't care about each other at all, but it's more like the feeling of pleasure is the main focus when you're in the bedroom. Something lowkey Dionysian about the moment you're together. You two might both enjoy how messy it can get in bed. You're both very downbad and like to do it anywhere.
Your person enjoys it when you ride on top of them or when you wrap your legs around them. They also really enjoy watching you move violently or roughly while your face is twisted in pleasure while they're going at it. It's the animalistic impulse that really turns them on. Sex for them is a way of touching upon that primitive part of yourself and letting it lose. That's why your sessions can be a bit uninhibited. They might even enjoy gripping you tightly and get stern during sex. They'll always make sure the both of you orgasam and achieve pleasure though. They also love embracing you and touching you in general. They think of you as a queen/king in the bedroom and might even treat you like one in their own way. They're also really into spanking and punishments (either to you or for themselves). Both of you can be very vocal during sex. A lot of people might even gossip about yall.
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