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lionfloss · 2 years
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netsurfer1001 · 8 months
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(*´_⊃`)人(´⊂_`*)thought you would enjoy this!!
In the movie 27 Dresses, there is a scene where the main characters are scanning items into a wedding registry. This scene contains a very special cameo featuring our good friend 🧊i-CY the iPenguin!!🤖🐧
This store has many on display incorrectly labeled as beeswax candle rods. Oops!
(゜▽゜*)
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yuujispinkhair · 8 months
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Tribe leader/Viking Sukuna headcanons
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After seeing this fanart, a sweet anon sent me this prompt: "Imagine that you are a simple girl in another tribe who attracted the leader Sukuna who at that moment came to negotiate with the leader of your tribe, he became interested in you and decided to make you his wife and cooperate with your people. So you left with him and began to live with him and give birth to his heirs."
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Thank you so much for sending me this! When I saw the art, I was thinking of something along those lines, too! The picture reminded me of the tv show Vikings, so the following headcanons take place in that time.
Pairing: Viking!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Smut + fluff Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, arranged/forced marriage, virginity loss, blood, breeding, pregnancy, slight lactation kink, having children, miscarriage (Sukuna comforts reader afterwards. He doesn't just want her because of the heirs she can give him), general mentions of violence and human sacrifices. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.
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+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is feared for his ruthlessness in battle and his strength that seems almost god-like. All the other tribes try to stay on his good side and forge alliances with him instead of giving him a reason to burn down their towns.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who looks so intimidating when he comes to visit your settlement. Tall and broad-shouldered with all those buff muscles on display and the bones of his enemies decorating his clothes.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who you can't take your eyes off when you and the rest of your tribe gather in your leader's throne room and watch the negotiations. He sends shivers down your spine, but not just in a fear-inducing way, if you are honest. He is so enticing. Powerful and intelligent, and so attractive.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is such a beautiful man. His face is too pretty for a warrior. Not even his scars and tribal tattoos can hide his beauty. A smug smirk lifts the corners of his lips, and his voice is calm and confident. He moves gracefully like a big cat, beautiful but deadly. He is the most stunning man you have ever seen, and you hang on every word that falls from his lips as if he carries ancient magic in his voice.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose icy blue eyes scan the crowd slowly, glittering like two precious jewels in the firelight illuminating the crowded room. Your breath catches in your throat when that intense gaze lands on you. You feel like a small animal trapped in the gaze of its hunter. Should you lower your head to show him your respect? Or will he take affront if you dare to look at anything else but him?
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who takes the decision away from you when he smirks at you and laughs softly before he turns his attention back to your leader.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who announces his conditions for a peace treaty in a confident, demanding tone. The voice of a man who is used to getting what he wants. A man who knows he is too powerful to get turned down.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who suddenly points a long tattoed finger at you and speaks the words that will flip your whole world upside down, "And I want her."
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes your heart drop with his demand, but all you can do is stare at him in a mix of fear and excitement. A murmur runs through the crowd, and already, several hands are pressing against your back, shoving you towards Sukuna, making you stumble and screech as you are about to fall at his feet.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who catches you before you hit the ground, his muscular arms holding you easily, an amused smirk lighting up his handsome face, light blue eyes glittering in amusement as he drawls teasingly, "Aww, someone's eager to become my little wife, huh?"
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes you sit on his lap that evening when a big feast is held in his honor and to seal the peace treaty with your tribe. You barely dare breathe, full of fear as you sit on his strong, muscled thighs, gasping when one of his large hands wanders under your skirt to squeeze your thigh possessively.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who has two of his men stand guard in front of your door so no one will attack his future wife or maybe to prevent you from sneaking away. But you aren't even sure you want to run from him. Who are you here in your current tribe anyway? Just another orphan who grew up to help on one of the farms. Isn't this new role much more important? To be the bride of Ryomen Sukuna? To be a means that allows your tribe to prosper and ensures peace and trade with Sukuna?
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose large hand has a firm, unrelenting grip on your arm as he leads you to his horse the next morning. But he lets you say goodbye to all your loved ones, taking their blessings and well wishes with you before your future husband helps you onto his horse.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is such a rough man, but whose hands are surprisingly gentle when he lifts you onto the back of his giant horse. He sits behind you, his firm muscles pressing against your back, rippling with every move he makes. His muscular buff arms cage you in, keeping you captive or keeping you safe. You can't tell which one of the two it is.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes a conflict rage in your chest. On the one hand, you are scared of this dangerous big man who has the power to just demand to have you as if you are some cattle. On the other hand, you can't deny that small hidden part of you that feels excited that such a powerful and attractive man desires you enough to want to make you his wife.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes your pulse flutter nervously when you feel his strong arms around you and hear him order his men around with his low, velvety voice, telling them to find a good resting place for the night.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who kisses you roughly on that first night. His large hands that cup your face are calloused, but his lips are warm, and his tongue is soft and so skilled when he pries your mouth open and licks into it. It's nothing like the shy, clumsy kisses you shared with the boys in your settlement. Sukuna is a feared warrior, a powerful tribe leader, someone who people believe is actually the son of a god. And you can feel all that in his kiss. Deep and intense, making your head spin and your body brim with a desire you have never felt before.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who rides with you again the next day and trails teasing kisses down your neck to pass the time during the long ride. You are sure he is fully aware of what he is doing to you. How he makes your heart race and makes a mix of fear and arousal throb in your veins. Especially when he grabs your chin to tilt your face up and capture your lips in a heated, wet kiss, licking unashamedly into your mouth in front of his men, showing everyone that you are his.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who whispers in your ear, "Are you scared of me, my little wife?" and then breaks out in loud, barking laughter when you exhale shakily and tell him, "Only a fool wouldn't be scared of you... but maybe I am also flattered that you picked me, my lord."
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who still chuckles while his tongue licks a lazy stripe up the side of your neck, and he huskily tells you, "I am not a lord. I am a god. And I saw a goddess right there in that shabby throne room. I had to take you with me. It was a sign from the gods. You will give me such strong and beautiful children. Together, we can conquer the whole world."
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who forces himself to keep his hands off you before your wedding night as a show of respect to the gods, but who lets you feel his desire for you when he hugs you from behind and presses his hardness against you once you have moved into his house.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who has you dressed in the finest garments for your wedding day. A beautiful red dress lined with gorgeous white ermine fur that was specifically made for you. Your neck, wrists, and ears are decorated with glittering gold and precious gemstones.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes you squeal when he swoops you up into his muscular arms and carries you into the ceremony hall, accompanied by the loud cheers of his people. Your hand is shaking when you exchange wedding rings with him, but you stay brave, speaking your vows and taking Sukuna's heavy sword when he offers it to you as his promise to protect you.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who sacrifices several of his enemies to the gods to ask for their blessings for your marriage and your fertility. He looks scary with the pattern painted onto his face with fresh blood. But at the same time, it makes him look feral in a way that makes an unknown heat throb between your legs.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who shares his food and mead with you on the decadent feast held after the wedding ceremony, where you sit on the throne next to his. One of his strong arms stays wrapped around your waist the whole evening, and the deep glances he sends your way make your skin tingle with anticipation.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who takes your virginity that night, making you cry out in pain when his thick cock splits you open for the first time. But his lips silence your cry, and soon you make other noises. Loud moans of pleasure fall from your lips as your new husband moves inside you with deep and sure thrusts that hit a spot inside you that makes you scratch the broad muscles of his back and arch up against Sukuna's huge body. Your cunt throbs around his cock as you find the sweetest and most intense release you ever had.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who afterward pushes two of his long fingers into your used cunt to push his seed back into you, leaning down to kiss you savagely and murmuring in your ear that he wants to see your belly hard and swollen with his heirs.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who paints his clan symbols on your face with a mix of your virginal blood and his cum, telling you that you are his forever and that you are blessed by the gods now too after taking his seed into you.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is so proud when you show the first signs of pregnancy.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who becomes extremely protective and possessive now that you carry his heir. Who worships your body every night, cupping and kissing your swollen breasts, licking at the drops of milk that already spill from them, telling you it tastes like the nectar of the gods.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose large rough hands caress your swollen belly gently, who kisses it, and talks to your unborn child, telling his son, as he predicts, that he will be born under the blessing of the gods. That he will become a great leader and a god himself one day.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is triumphant when your first child is a boy with pink hair and a strong build and loud voice. A future leader just like his father. The first heir of many more to follow.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is feared by everyone but treats his wife and newborn child with a gentleness that surprises you. He asks you to let him hold your baby and carry him in his strong arms. And the way Sukuna looks at your child tells you that he doesn't just see little Yuuji as an heir but as someone who has Sukuna's heart.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose hungry and proud gaze follows you for days until he has you under him again, fucking you with hard, deep thrusts, moaning loudly, and pumping you full of his seed over and over again. "You gave me such a strong heir, my love. I know you'll give me so many more."
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who rushes to your side when you have a miscarriage during your second pregnancy. Who hugs you to his broad chest, wipes the sweat and blood off you, and cradles you in his arms.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who kisses your tears away and reassures you when you are scared he will kick you out if you won't give him more heirs.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who shakes his head and tells you, "I mourn our unborn child, but I thank the gods for not taking my beloved wife away from me too. You are more to me than just a vessel that gives birth to my heirs. You are my wife, my companion, the one who the gods sent to me as my soulmate. I love you. Even if we have no more children, I will never take a new wife."
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who you see in a new light after the reassurance and love he gave you on that day. And suddenly, you find yourself falling in love with your husband, too. You treat him more tenderly. You caress his soft hair when the two of you cuddle in your bed to keep each other warm. You kiss the tattoos on his face and smile at him, your heart fluttering when Sukuna smiles back at you and pulls you into a slow, tender kiss. You will never forget the happiness in his eyes when you tell him you love him too.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who fucks you thoroughly that night until the two of you are sweating and rolling around on top of the warm furs, kissing and caressing each other needily while he fills you with his hot seed until you are overflowing from it.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is delighted when you give birth to your second child, and that child looks like the perfect mix of the two of you. He grins at you and tells you that this is clearly a child of love, conceived on the night you confessed your love to him.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is actually a caring husband who truly treasures you. Who likes to spend his nights with you wrapped under the warm furs, making slow love while he kisses you deeply, rolling his hips with those slow, languid moves that make you sob his name and come undone so sweetly on his cock. 
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who likes to hold you in his strong arms afterward, with your head resting on his broad chest and your small fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest and abs. He loves to talk to you for hours every night, telling you all about his day, about his current worries and plans, about political things and battle tactics, trusting you with all his secrets.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose love fills you with warmth even on the coldest winter days. Your heart is held securely in his strong hands. And you know that no one will dare lay a hand on you or your children in fear of Sukuna's wrath. His strength and power make you feel safe here in your new home.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who teaches you how to enjoy sex to the fullest. Who teaches you how to ride his cock and his face. Who teaches you how to take from him too. Because he is your husband, and that means he belongs to you just as much as you belong to him.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who trusts you with ruling in his place during his absence. Who declares that anyone who disrespects you will get sacrificed to the gods.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who keeps you on his thick, strong cock all night before he has to leave for one of his various exploration trips or battles, savoring you to the fullest. Making sure to fuck you so good that you will still feel him for days after he set sail.
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who pulls you into his arms one last time before he boards the ship, kissing you deep and long. And there is this burning love in his blue gaze when he tells you, "I will do anything in my power to come back to you, my love. I have the gods on my side. But if, for whatever reason, they should decide it is my time to enter Valhalla, then I want you to know that I will wait there until you join the afterlife, too, and I will come find you, no matter where you are."
+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who luckily doesn't go to Valhalla and always comes back to you with more scars on his gorgeous body but with the same love in his eyes.
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AAAHHH I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM!!! This became much longer than I intended, but I really miss the show Vikings, and I love Viking!Sukuna to an insane amount, so it is what it is ;) This was, once again, very self-indulgent, but hopefully, some of my fellow Sukuna lovers will enjoy it too! Thank you so much to the nice anon who sent me that prompt!
Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.
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evielmostdefinitely · 4 months
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hiiii could you please write something about aftercare with young snow? like how in jealous girl it says he babied her afterwards, but a whole fic about it? i just wanna see how sweet a cruel man like snow can be 🤭
tip of my fingers |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|
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prompt: as requested above, aftercare with snow.
contains: fluff. mentions of dom/sub themes. possessive snow.
Coriolanus sat on the edge of the bed, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, chest still rising and falling with every ragged breath from his post orgasm. He always got flushed like this after a night of particularly rough sex. 
“‘M going to the shower, my love.” Corio muttered, curls matted to his forehead, muggy and sweaty. His hand patted the top of your thigh, gentler than before, your skin still raw and sensitive. 
You didn’t move, didn’t utter a word, really didn’t make a sound besides a pathetic whine. Corio’s head snapped around, turning to you in an instant. His eyes narrowed carefully, scanning over you like he was assessing his latest plans. “Are you alright?” 
Your glazed eyes staring off, face turned, smushed into the mattress, a pool of your own drool beneath you. Normally he’d mock you, tease you for being so messy. “My messy girl, look at you.” He’d give you a grin that felt more like a sneer. 
Not this time. 
Coriolanus called your name, softly but firmly, crouching in front of you. His hand rubbed over your clammy forehead, heated cheeks still flushed from your climax. “Look at me, darling.” Corio muttered, fingers tracing over your cheek down the slope of your neck. You shuddered but didn’t turn to him, still lost in your own haze. “Can you hear me?” 
Your own mind was miles away from that very bedroom, lost under roaring waves and a hazy fog that Corio always got you in. Usually you snapped back quicker, a few loving kisses, the shock of a cold rag cleaning you up. Other times, it was more difficult. 
Coriolanus moved to the bathroom, swallowing down the venomous bark of spewing orders that threatened to fall from his lips. He didn’t like this feeling, when he was out of control, especially with you. When something was wrong and he didn’t know an immediate fix. The rational side of himself told him to stay calm, do what he knew to before spiraling into a panic. 
Corio tried to swallow down his beating heart, wringing the cold water out of the cloth, before walking back into the bedroom. The air was still thick and hot, sticky with the lingering musk of sex. He moved beside you, wordlessly, smoothing the cloth over your forehead. 
The icy feeling shocked your system, leaving your shuddering, mind lurching back, vision clearing. Corio was before you, brows pinched with a concerned frown, studying you carefully. Your eyes met his, blinking helplessly before him. He swallowed a groan at how it made his cock lurch, seeing you so weak and needy. 
“My love,” Corio’s hand slid down your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. “Are you alright?” 
You blinked, moving into his touch, nearly instinctively. “You’re alright?” Corio pressed, head tilting in a much softer way to look at you. “Yes?” 
You nodded, pushing off the mattress, groaning at the uncomfortable stretch of sore skin on your ass and thighs. Coriolanus had used his belt, your favorite, tonight. 
“Be careful.” Corio clicked, hands wrapping around your biceps, much softer now than before. “You’re going to be sore, darling girl. Careful.” His tone softer now, hushed mumblings as he helped you up. 
You winced when your raw skin brushed the silk of the sheets, the ghosting of a whimper on your lips. Corio shushed you gently, sitting next to you, pulling you into his lap. His hand brushing down your hair, your skin sticky on his own. 
“How are you feeling?” Coriolanus muttered, lips brushing against your scalp, breathing in the sweaty scent mixed with your perfume from before. 
“‘M alright.” You muttered, your cheek against his pec. You could hear his heart rate, how it fluttered and stilled to a steady rhythm. How it would erupt in an excited crescendo when you finally spoke, making your veins fill with ooey gooey rushes of adoration. For all of Coriolanus’ cruelties, his harshness- he did love you. It was evident in moments like these. 
“Do you need the healing ointment? I can get it from the servant’s quarters-” 
“-I’ll be alright, Corio.” You hummed, eyes pulling heavily. The exhaustion washes over you in thick waves. “I just want you to hold me, please.” Your eyes lifted, rounding sweetly. 
He’d be a fool not to, Coriolanus decided, pulling you closer into his chest. He liked you like this, pliant and at his every whim, completely reliant on him. 
Corio moved to the bath after, quieting your whines of protest with a small tut, coaxing kisses to your temples, testing the bath water with great show while you sat on the ledge. 
You stayed pressed to his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline, like you might float away or dissolve if he let go. Corio let you, ego swelling off the dependency. 
“Did I go too hard?” Corio hummed, a sudsy hand rubbing down your spine. The bath filled with the tonic fresh from District Eleven, dried orange peels, lavender, and rose. Coriolanus brought it to you, after his last visit to the district. You had swooned over it, smothering him sillily in kisses that made him blush. 
“No,” You shook your head, inhaling the scent that was entirely his. “I think it was the teasing and the spanking, at the same time. I just- I wasn’t ready for it.” You knew what he wanted to hear. Coriolanus had always been adamant after your rough play that you debrief him. It felt very professional, which is why you were reluctant, but that type of blunt, straight forward reporting is what Corio responded best to. 
Corio nodded, a low hum vibrating out of his chest, tickling your ear. “I see. I won’t do it as much next time.” He wouldn’t apologize, but you could hear it in his unspoken words. 
“Just not as much at the same time.” You whispered sheepishly, as if he didn’t know every part of you. 
Coriolanus nodded, a wet hand rubbing the base of your neck, scratching your scalp gently. He knew you loved it, knew it would have your head tipping back into his touch so he could kiss you. 
You let him wash you, dry you off- only whimpering when the towel brushes over your ignited skin. He shushed you, a silent apology, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh. He put the ointment on anyway, muttering flippantly about how “you had obligations tomorrow, and didn’t need to be squirming the whole time”. You knew it was because it made him feel better. 
Corio dressed you in your nightgown, slipping the powdery blue, soft fabric over your skin, trailing kisses from the back of your shoulder to your ear. 
Underneath the silk of the sheets, you slept in his arms, face to face, whispering in the darkness of the room. It always brought out the vulnerability of Coriolanus in these moments, holding you, feeling you, smelling you- he’d bear his soul to you. 
“I’m unsure about the games.” Corio muttered, arms tightening around you. 
“Unsure in what way, honey?” You hummed, finger raking through his curls, behind his ear- his favorite spot. 
“Unsure that they’ll be as successful as they need to be.” Corio hummed, and even through the dark you could see the concern on his features. “Unsure that people will watch.” 
You paused for a moment. You decided not to tell him how you truly felt, not then, anyways. Selfishly, you didn’t want to ruin the intimacy, the softness of the moment. “I’m sure they’ll be everything you hope for them to be.” You hummed, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Everything always does.” 
Your words, as forced as they were, brought comfort to Coriolanus. His head falling back into your hair, pressing a kiss to your scalp. Fingertips brushing skin, hushed words, and soft kisses all exchanged under the twilight of the night. Tomorrow, you’d be prim and proper. You’d stand beside Corio respectfully, hide your grimace at the mention of the upcoming reaping, refrain from rolling your eyes at the suck ups that flocked to Coriolanus in a giddy, exaggerated manner. You two would be the picture of perfection that Panem wanted you to be. For now, you’d be content to lay in each other's arms, being yourself instead.
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writingcroissant · 2 months
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Drunk Tease | Azriel x reader
Summary: Azriel rarely gets drunk, but when he does, it’s a whole experience.
A/N: This is the long promised second part to Late Nights and Faerie Wine, this time with drunk Az! (Can both be read separately) I took the liberty to tag everyone who commented on part one. There’s not a lot of plot and the ending is a bit random but please do let me know what you think!
Word count: 2741
Warnings: alcohol, language, suggestiveness (if that's a warning?)
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It was way past midnight when Y/N pushed open the wooden door of Rita's pub, only to be greeted with a cacophony of voices. Warm air washed over her in a wave and immediately her icy cheeks began to prickle with the sudden change in temperature.
Her attention jumped from one table to the next, scanning faces, and bodies, and voices, though it didn't take her long to zero in on her target.
It wasn't like they were easy to miss.
Sitting in a corner booth, three Illyrians roared with laughter—cheeks heated, wings slumped, and minds so obviously buzzed that a smirk tugged at her lips when she pushed her way through the crowd to approach their table.
She'd only managed a few steps when she noticed a shadowy tendril winding its way around her forearm. Wherever she went, Azriel's shadows usually were the first to know of her presence, though naturally, Azriel was never far behind.
Even intoxicated, he must've felt the bond glow brighter and brighter the closer she got, because from one moment to the next his head swivelled to the side, and his eyes lit up as they locked on her.
All at once, the entirety of his attention shifted from his brothers to his mate, and more shadows came to circle her limbs in greeting.
She'd barely opened her mouth to speak when Azriel's hand shot out to pull her onto his lap. A surprised laugh passed her lips, but it got swallowed as soon as he pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss to make her toes curl.
His broad palm found the side of her neck, and she couldn't suppress a gasp when Azriel licked deep into her mouth with the tip of his nose pressing into the soft flesh of her cheek.
She distantly noted Cassian and Rhys complaining, but her mind fogged over at the feel of Azriel's lips, the taste of his tongue, the heat of his breath mixing in with hers. The little sounds he made. Gods, she’d always loved those sounds he made deep down in his throat when he kissed her.
She felt his hand on her skin, thumb pressing gently against her rapid pulse while he kept his other arm firmly wrapped around her waist.
Only when he pulled back did her eyes open to find his gaze flicker down to her lips every now and then, lids heavy.
"My love," he hummed, fingertips brushing a strand of hair from her face, and as though made of pure electricity, his low tone shot right down her spine.
It took her a moment to collect herself. Two, three, four heartbeats before she cleared her throat and gently loosened his hold on her to slide off his lap and into the free spot next to him to finally face his brothers.
"Well," she said, thumb briefly wiping along her bottom lip. "I see you boys are having fun."
"Azriel certainly is," Rhys said, smirking as he lifted his glass to his lips.
"What brings you here on this fine evening, sweetheart?" Cass inquired, offering her a sip of his beer.
She lifted her hand to decline and did her best to suppress a grin when Azriel nuzzled his nose into her hair, a low humming sound coming from deep within his chest. She was used to drastically increased levels of PDA whenever he'd drunk.
"Az tugged on the bond," she said, to which Cassian snorted, his mouth hanging open in outrage as he moved his attention to the shadowsinger.
"You called your mate down here to come and get you?"
She felt Azriel's lips twist into a smile against the soft skin of her temple.
"Yes," he simply stated.
"I can't believe you," Cassian huffed, shaking his head as he raised his glass back to his lips. "You don't see me dragging Nesta all the way down here to escort me—"
"Hey guys," a new voice said, and a laugh broke past Y/N's lips as she peeked past Azriel to spot the High Lady herself stand with her hands on her hips after having just winnowed to a spot right next to their table.
Cassian was flabbergasted as he stared at Rhys, who emptied the last of his drink in an attempt to hide his grin.
"I cannot believe—"
"Hello, Feyre darling," Rhys drawled, standing to loop an arm around his mate's waist and pull her in for a kiss to the cheek.
Azriel ran the tip of his nose along Y/N's right cheekbone as she watched Feyre scrunch her nose.
"You smell like a distillery."
Rhys chuckled and turned to wink at Cassian. "Don't take it too hard, brother. I'm sure Nesta would be happy to come get you. Shall we send her down here once we return to the House of Wind?"
"Screw you, Rhys," Cassian grumbled.
Azriel lifted his fingers back to Y/N's face, running the pad of his thumb along the edge of her jaw. A brief glance told her that his eyes remained trained on her lips, lids heavy and gaze distant.
"I wish you a most pleasant night, brother," Rhys smirked, swaying where he stood. He pulled Feyre a bit tighter to his chest as a way to steady his stance. In return, the High Lady tilted her nose a bit further away from his lips and shared an amused glance with Y/N.
"And you," Rhys added, turning his attention to Azriel, who could not have been paying any less attention. "Get a room."
Azriel lifted his middle finger without taking his eyes off his mate, and the last that could be heard of both Rhys and Feyre was a mix of both their laughs as they winnowed away.
It was only once Cassian continued to complain that Azriel straightened where he sat, his fingers circling Y/N's wrist.
"We'll be off then," the shadowsinger announced, ignoring Cassian's protest as he stood.
"Maybe you should go home too, Cass," Y/N suggested as she got up, softening her tone when she took pity on him. "Do you want to come with us? I'll winnow us all to the townhouse."
"Nah," Cassian muttered. "Ness is out with Gwyn anyway. She'll meet me here in half an hour."
"I see," Azriel snorted. "You give us shit for calling our mates to come get us, but in reality, you're just bitter that they showed up earlier than yours."
"Oh, fuck off," the Lord of Bloodshed muttered with something coming dangerously close to a pout.
Y/N laughed and just barely managed to wish Cassian a good night before Azriel pulled her through the crowd and straight towards the door.
Fresh air soon filled her lungs, and the famous night sky of Velaris lay before her, though she couldn't admire it properly, seeing as Azriel gave a dangerous sway beside her. Promptly, Y/N's hands shot up to support him with one palm on his waist and one on his elbow.
"I'm warning you now," she said, brows raised as she waited for the swaying to stop. "The chance that I'll be able to catch you if you fall is slim to none."
Azriel's lips pulled into a lazy grin, a teasing spark in his eye as he tilted his head. "Have a little more faith in yourself, my love."
He gave yet another sway, on purpose this time, as though to test his theory, and Y/N slapped her palm against his shoulder.
"Stop it!" She failed to suppress an amused twitch of her lips. "I will absolutely let you face plant the street."
Azriel huffed but straightened where he stood. From one moment to the next his swaying stopped, and his feet remained safely planted to the floor, his stance assured.
Her eyes flickered down his solid form, and her brows twitched together in suspicion.
"Have you been faking it?"
The lazy grin reappeared. "My love, I assure you that you'd be the first to know if I were to fake—"
"I meant did you fake being drunk."
"Oh. Well, no," Azriel hummed, then shrugged a shoulder. "But it takes more than a couple of drinks to fully incapacitate me."
On cue, he attempted to lift his wings from the slight droop they'd maintained ever since she'd entered the pub, and promptly staggered to the side.
Y/N snorted. "Are you sure about that, oh big bad Illyrian?"
A beat of silence before Azriel cleared his throat. "Perhaps I shouldn't be flying."
"Yeah, perhaps," she smirked, and then stepped closer to wrap her arms around his waist, looking up at him. "Are you going to be okay though? With winnowing?"
He inhaled deeply, before giving a single nod. "Ready."
She smiled, and then winnowed the pair of them to the door of the townhouse.
As soon as the house had taken solid form, Azriel took a step back, one hand braced on the red brick wall, while the other one found his stomach. There was a slight bend to his back, and he was taking slow, deep breaths through slightly parted lips, as though willing himself not to throw up.
"Oh, baby," Y/N mumbled, rubbing her hand along his spine. "I'm sorry. Let's get you inside."
"I'm fine," Azriel muttered, though he allowed her to guide him through the door with gentle hands on his arm. "Completely fine."
"Sure you are," she smiled. "Come on."
It was a challenge getting him up the stairs, what with his wings dropping far enough for the bottom edges to drag across the floor and the security in his step decreasing drastically the moment altitude came into play.
When they finally reached their bedroom, Azriel wrapped his arms around her waist and took her with him as he let his body drop backwards onto the bed, wings splayed out beneath him.
"Fuck, Azriel!" she laughed, as they bounced slightly.
Azriel hummed, and she felt his nose run along her throat, nudging her chin a bit higher for his lips to reach the spot just beneath her jaw he knew she liked.
She smirked when he drew the sensitive skin between his teeth.
"Az," she mumbled, hands seeking his arms in an attempt to loosen his grip on her. "Azriel. You're drunk."
"Am not." His voice vibrated against her neck, and a shiver ran down her spine. "You smell good."
She smiled. "Thank you."
"Like fresh air and daisy soap." His nose dug a little deeper into the skin beneath her jaw, and she could hear him inhaling.
She combed her fingers through his hair. "Will you let me take off your leathers now?"
He hummed again, and she could feel his lips pull into a grin. "Why of course, my love. The answer to that question will always be yes."
His words had him lose his focus for just a moment, and she finally managed to free herself enough to sit up, straddling his waist.
As he lay there beneath her, Azriel folded his arms behind his head and watched intently as she began to unfasten the many little buckles and clasps that held together his flight leathers. She could feel his eyes on her.
"How was your evening?" he asked suddenly, and she couldn't help the smile that yet again tugged on her lips. He was adorable when he was drunk.
"It was good, sugar. How was yours?"
She watched as his mouth clapped shut and delighted in the way a tinge of red crawled up his neck at the use of a new nickname.
"Oh, uhm," he cleared his throat as she opened his Siphon-covered chest plate, hands brushing cool skin with every move. "Yeah, good. It was good."
She chuckled as she stood, taking his armour with her, and tucking it beneath one arm before she reached out for the laces of his pants.
Azriel was quick to brush her hands aside.
"That's okay," he said, sitting up with a groan, his wings dragging across the mattress. "Bad idea for you to fiddle around down there unless you want to finish what it'll start."
She laughed and moved to the door to hang his chest plate on a hook instead. "And I thought I was the horny drunk."
"You are." Azriel mumbled as he did his best to focus the remainder of his fine motor skills on unlacing his pants.
"Hey!"
"What?" Azriel lifted his gaze to look at her, and she could see the amusement alighting his eyes. "Just last month you told Cassian all about how you wanted to ride me in the training ring. You're not exactly subtle when you had a few."
She was scandalised. "You stuck your tongue down my throat as soon as I set foot in Rita's tonight!"
The lazy grin returned, and Azriel tilted his head as his eyes flitted to her lips. "And I'd do it again right now if you'd let me."
She smirked when she began to undress, too. "Sober up first, you drunk."
"If I'm a drunk, then you're a horndog."
A laugh escaped her throat, and when she pulled her shirt off, she flung it at his head.
Azriel caught it with ease, grinning.
She'd just moved her hands behind her back to unclasp her bra, when suddenly he stood before her to sweep her off her feet with one hand beneath her knees, and one on her back.
She yelped as he once again dropped down on the bed, though this time winding his arms tight enough around her waist to press her to the now warm skin of his chest. It was only when his hands sneaked to her sides that she realised that he'd essentially trapped her beneath his body.
Her every muscle froze, and she did her best to put on a warning expression.
"Don't you dare."
Azriel grinned, and she knew from the look in his eyes that it was a lost cause. Next thing she knew, he lowered his mouth to the skin in the crook of her neck and blew with all his might while his fingers poked at her sides.
An undignified laugh tore through her throat as she began to wiggle beneath him in a useless attempt to free herself from his attack.
"Azriel," she panted, gasping for breath after a few minutes. "Azriel, you fucking—"
Azriel stopped and retreated enough to look at her, mouth opened in outrage. "How were you going to finish that sentence?"
She grinned up at him, and when Azriel realised that she wasn't going to answer, he gave an affectionate snort and finally lowered his lips to hers in a deep kiss, pressing her so deep into the pillows that it felt like diving into a cloud.
Still breathless from his attack, she panted against his lips as his kiss grew hungrier and her fingers began to tingle.
It wasn’t long until she felt his lips trail a line of kisses along her jaw, his words whispered into her skin. “I do love sticking my tongue down your throat.”
She couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled from her chest. “And I would really love to ride you in the training ring.”
His smile widened into a grin, his words still barely above a breath as he kept his eyes on her. “You could ride me now.”
She mirrored his grin, brushing her fingertips up the length of his side until he shuddered against her. “Piss drunk Illyrian.”
Azriel claimed her lips back in a burning kiss. She could feel every inch of his body pressing against hers. His thigh rested between her legs, his palms on her skin as he mirrored every bit of the heat she felt and laid it all into his kiss.
It was only once her resolve had almost entirely evaporated and the first whimper had fallen from her lips that Azriel pulled back, and his body vanished to leave her skin to be kissed by the cool air of their bedroom.
Her chest rose rapidly, her thighs pressed together as she watched him swagger towards the bathroom, seemingly unfazed.
She gave an incredulous laugh, and Azriel threw a wink over his shoulder just as he vanished behind the bathroom door.
"Tease," she muttered loud enough for him to hear before letting her head plop back into the pillows, smiling to herself when a booming laugh filled the air.
-
Tagging the lovely people who commented on part one or reblogged with some tags, just in case you're interested:
@biggestwingspan-az @experr5 @pellucid-constellations @illyrian-dreamer @littlebookbengal @dcml @brekkershadowsinger @acourtofmarvels @berryzxx @ladylokilaufeyson5 @daycourtofficial @beardburnsupersoldiers @mischiefmanagers @rpfreblog @eminvelaris @aristocrrat @lauraslibrary @chubby-unicornz @offbrandbuckley @strangereads @sugarspicelivelife @alysena2 @thefanficarchivee @bemysugarbean @xreaderbooksreads
2K notes · View notes
fever-fluff · 4 months
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Take my Hand
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Synopsis: Azriel really wants to hold your hand, but he's afraid that he'll hold it too tight.
(I've been obsessed with writing something that focuses on Azriel's hands. Because of how it was too late to save his hands when his brother's burned him, I'm wondeirng if he ever had to relearn things when they finally healed himself.)
Word Count: 2k(Not Proof Read)
Sometimes he had wished he had burned in the blaze of heat centuries ago, that the months of relearning how to make a fist with his fingers and then splay them wide again hadn’t tunnelled itself so far into his memory that he could still feel the anger, pain and frustration of not being able to do what infants could. But the years had rolled on, one into another and even with all the Illyrian healing in the world, Azriel would never be able to go back to a time where his hands were just… hands.
He was supposed to meet you today, outside the little bookstore you and Nesta frequented so many times you knew it better than your own rooms. That was an hour ago. But the pains that sparked from his fingers up through his arm had left him twitching so uncontrollably that he couldn’t even lift the cup from its saucer this morning without the tea sloshing over the sides.
He could hear Madja’s hum of disaproval in the back of his mind as he changed his hands from the almost boiling water in one bowl to the icy cold in another. He’d been slacking on the regiments she’d given him all those years ago. With the dexterity he needed to wield his blades, Azriel was supposed to vigilantly keep up with the hot and cold baths and rigorous stretches and ointments so he wouldn’t lose their complete cooperation, but in the past few months he’d avoided them to no end.
If he were being honest with himself, it had started much earlier than that. Seeing so many round him now that didn’t fail in menial bodily functions had left him feeling lesser than, so he’d reduced his routine week by week, then day by day, until he’d relied solely on what his body could do to stop his hands seizing up. What an idiot he was.
The twitching had finally ceased, but his hands had locked into a half-made fist and he grunted with frustration, asking the house to send a bowl of melted wax so he could attempt to bend his fingers back to where they should be.
Submerging one, he began to think of you. Had you left? Or were you still standing outside the sage green door with the potted plants littering the entrance, wondering if he’d stood you up? It had been too long for you to think he was running late, and he cursed himself to Hel.
He’d imagined your first outing over and over again since you’d said yes a week ago. How he’d fly down to you, no Illyrian leather in sight, instead complimenting your dress his shadows had described perfectly with the slacks and shirt he’d chosen after tearing at his hair all morning. He wouldn’t bring any flowers, remembering your distaste for uprooting harmless fauna and instead he’d offer you something hot to drink to keep you warm in the crisp air of the afternoon. You’d smile and thank him, asking if he was ready to go inside and he’d grab you hand, giving it a kiss as he hummed his yes. He wouldn’t let it go the entire time you scanned the bookshelves. Until you’d finally begin choosing your reads for the coming days and he’d offer to carry them for you, holding them securely imaging it was you instead. Once you were finished, he’d hold the bag of books in one hand, while reaching with his other and lacing your fingers together. The day would carry on much the same, and his hands would always be there, either at your waist or your own, always making sure you were still by his side – that he was not imagining any of it.
But that’s all it was in the end – his imagination. His hands were no good for soft touches. He was always grabbing things too lightly or too tight, never just right. They showed him for the brute he was, that he was not meant for delicate things like you.
Slowly bending the first of his fingers back, Azriel heard the slightest rap of knuckles on his door, and he announced himself before he even thought to check who it was. But the soft footsteps he had become so used to picking out over the rest of his loud family had his head snapping up to face the opened door and see you, a small smile on your face with sad eyes. “Is this a bad time?”
His wing barely missed tipping the bowl of wax on the floor as he spun to face you, hiding it and his once again shaking hands behind his back as he called your name in surprise. Shadows flitted around him, making for your figure in the door and swirling at your feet. Their movements displaced the fabric of your dress, the skirt of it flowing with the black tide. You looked so much more than beautiful, blowing whatever his imagination had conjured up earlier out through the open window. All Azriel could find himself thinking of was how soft you looked when you filled the stretching silence once again with your voice. “I was worried. You didn’t show and I thought Rhys might have called you away. But when he said he hadn’t seen you since breakfast, well… I really didn’t know what to think.”
“I -” Gods, why did his own words have to fail him now? “I have no excuse for leaving you to wait. I’m sorry.”
You nodded, “Apology accepted. But Az, if you didn’t want to join me this morning, you could’ve told me. I didn’t want to make you feel like you had no choice but to hide away in you ro-”
“I wasn’t hiding! I – I wanted to come, truly, I just…” Azriel sighed as he placed his hands back in front of him, the shaking and curling fingers on full display in front of you. “I’ve tried everything, but none of it’s working. I just, I wanted today to be perfect, but I should’ve known it would be me that ruined it.”
There was no gasp of surprise as he’d imagined when you inevitably found out about his lacking. Only Rhys and Cass were privy to his condition, Feyre, her sisters, even Mor had been left in the dark for years now on his request. But you had slowly walked toward him and now reached for his hand to peel the hardened shell of wax back, dropping it into the rest.
Guiding him to the bed, he sat and watched as you silently picked up vial after vial of oil on his dresser, putting them down as you read each label until you found what you were looking for.
He said nothing as you tipped some of it into your hands, rubbing them together to warm them after being out in the biting cold for an age, all thanks to him. You reached for his, only stopping to ask him a simple ‘may I?’ before he agreed, and you took his right hand in between your delicate fingers.
Slowly, you pressed and kneaded the aching skin and muscles, setting the fingers that refused to move back with careful movements. It was tediously long, one of the treatments that he avoided almost all of the time because his own could never fix the problem. But you never complained, never tired from the repetitive nature of it once. When the shakes had finally eased, and his fingers could once again flex and move with little stiffness, you moved to his left; using the same care and diligence on it as you did the first. It must have been a couple hours before you finally retracted your hands from his, resting them in you lap as you smiled up at him. “There. Any better?”
Azriel felt the first drop hit his cheek and roll down until it fell, the rest soon following. “Where did you learn to do that?” He couldn’t tear his eyes form yours, even when his vision blurred from the tears. You had done something no one ever had. After everything he had done – leaving you to wait, sending no word of why, then sitting here with you like a buffoon as you tended and cared for him as no one else had. How could you still look at him like that, with so much warmth?
You blushed under the question, “I asked Madja to show me, in case you needed help when no one else could do it.”
He bristled, no no no no no. “Did Rhys tell you? Did Cassian?!” He’d kill them, he’d kill them both for putting you here. But you waved you hands in denial of his words. “No. No! I – I just thought that it would be something you might need… you know? I know that Illyrian healing is one of the most potent there is, so for your hands to be so scarred, I just thought that maybe it wasn’t all surface level…” Your voiced had filtered out as you finished explaining, but Azriel couldn’t even believe the words that had reached his ears.
You had gone to Madja, or your own choosing, to ask for something no one else had thought of in the time they had known him. “You did this for me?”
“Well, yea. You’re always taking care of me. I just wanted to take care of you sometimes, because I know its nice to receive it. So why shouldn’t I return the fav- ”
Azriel hadn’t even let you finish before he’d moved to place his lips on yours, stealing the intake of breath you’d taken in surprise. He was right, you were soft, and delicate, and just, everything. He moved his now still hands to hold you as he wanted to this afternoon – wrapping one round your waist as the other placed itself to cup your neck. You preened as he pulled you closer, legs tangling slightly and your own hands, the ones which had cared for him so wonderfully, reached for the front of his shirt and pulled on the fabric to bring him impossibly closer. You were incredibly open to him, inviting everything he gave you with warmth and just as much delight as he did. it was impossible to pull away from you, and even as he gained the strength to do so you had chased his mouth with a slight nip to his lower lip. His hum swallowed by you, tongue teasing the seam of his mouth until he opened up just as much as you had, and he became engulfed by you once again.   
This time it had been you who pulled to break away from him. He forced himself not to follow as you had done earlier, opening his eyes and finding yours already looking at him. Your cheeks had flushed, and he noticed that somehow you had come to sit on his lap, legs tossed to the side while your dress pooled around you both. He supposed he looked no better, even less so with the grip he had on your waist and neck. But you didn’t seem to mind. Not at all as he worked the skin underneath in a silent apology to sooth whatever pressure he had inflicted.
“Thank you”
Your eyes closed at his words and touch, leaning forward to peck his lips one more time. “Anytime, Shadowsinger. Anytime.”
He should ask to redo your missed outing this morning, should apologise one more time for leaving you to wait. But with the way you had curled into him, Azriel pushed his thoughts back. He’d make it up to you later, he promised himself. He just wanted to hold you for a little while longer.
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svndaysaweek · 6 days
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Overture (Prequel to Enlightenment) — {Feat. Karina}
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8.7k words
A/N: You don’t know how old this draft is… I still remember that anon who sent a few asks about this series, and I really hope that they read this! This one is the longest I’ve ever written. Might not be the best piece, but I’m so proud of myself that I did my best. Thank you @dnd-writes for editing and giving me awesome advices. Enjoy!
*Prequel to “Enlightenment”
******
“Doesn’t matter how the two met. It’s about how they’re together ‘til now.”
******
It’s the first day in your new high school. It’s already March but the breeze is yet to blow winter away, strongly acclaiming its presence with the icy wind you face as soon as you come out of the main building of your school to go to the cafeteria. You haven’t made any friends to have lunch with yet, so you change your mind to just head to the smoking spot–behind the auditorium which is already an alien building itself–and kill some time smoking. You turn your way to the smoking spot inside the huge tide of students heading to the cafeteria. Freezing air makes you pace up to the spot.
After passing a few corners where even the wind has been disturbed to travel through, you find a drum can with fire in it making a peaceful crackling sound.
And a girl standing right by it as if wanting to get burnt. “Are you the new one?” Her voice is sharp enough to make it sound wary, yet quite chirpy to end up hitting you as rather coquettish.
“I don’t… I don't really know you,” Your steps towards her contradict your words. “Me neither.” At the fire you light your own cigarette. Your eyes scan her body from the ground to meet hers doing the same to you. The yellow name tag catches your eyes. Her name is Yu Jimin, third grade. And where the name tag is what makes your attention gather up too–perfect size, matches her wavy figure and sassy face, calmly heaves when she’s inhaling in the smoke.
“My name’s not that hard to read,” That’s when you realize that Yu Jimin, this unusual girl, will be an attraction with challenges. It’s all in her grin, in her turbid eyes that never leave yours–to be honest, it’s yours that never leaves hers; they won’t let the leash on your eyes loosen, until she wants to.
You suck it in, and breathe out a mouthful of smoke in the cold air. You look at her again and she's been watching you thoroughly, from head to toe, examining your body, shape, façade and all things she finds nice to look at, regardless of you mirroring her like once isn’t really enough.
She’s got such a nice, sculpted body, hidden under the school uniform but even more premo like that; concave and convex, it just hugs her curves impeccably. Narrow waist and wide, tight hips causing the skirt to struggle not to be torn apart. What’s more is her face, at the height of your chest, looking almost unrealistic, inhumanly beautiful, especially with a shallow grin like right now.
You are automatically making steps toward Jimin and she’s not backing up. You turn your head right to let out the smoke and then return to the ongoing gaze between you two.
“Don’t I look cold?” Jimin steps backwards, from the fire and from you. It makes you just automatically look at her legs, so slick and teem with femininity. You keep following what she tells you to do, what the hormones tell you to do.
“What do you want me to say?” It should be delivered as a counterattack to the dominance Jimin has shown you, but it, unfortunately, ends up sounding as if you were really confused. And Jimin almost bursts into laughter which she manages to hold in.
“So, third grade? What class are you in?”
“Two. You?” You drop the used cigarette and step on it to put it out. “Four. I’ll drop by sometime, handsome.”
Then she leaves the spot just like that. You are so interested in the girl Yoo Jimin. Given that she’s pretty like that, smokes around, she’s nothing like the normal students, obviously. And you can tell Jimin also found you special. Yeah, you know people don’t get to see a man like you quite often. You also know you don’t get to see a girl so appetizing like her often. It’s third year in highschool. You’re no amateur to let a girl play you around, rather, you’ve learned to control those feisty, hungry girls, but ugh, to be honest you don’t know what’s going on. 
******
She never comes to see you until the end of school. Nor do you, because you thought you could wait–precisely, you thought you had to wait. You definitely want to take the upper hand in this new relationship so you just head home, yet with a bit of disappointment. But you don’t let anyone know. Maybe she’s just playing you out. That’s unacceptable for you. You calmly wait for the bus deep in thought. Maybe find someone else tomorrow. I don’t know.
“Hey, going somewhere?”
Fuck. It’s her. Jimin.
You think of complaining, but swallow it back and answer. “Home. You?” Jimin shrugs with nonchalance. “I don’t know. Your place, maybe? Do you live alone?” She lunges in suddenly, and you could just let her be as spunky as she can be. “I do. Why do you want to know that?” You throw a question, feigning calmness, and Jimin just smirks back.
“Don’t ask me.”
You’re on the bus. You let Jimin take the window side and sit next to her. You stuff your ears with some random songs and lock your eyes to the screen in your palm to leave the absorbing girl next to you out of your world even for a second.
“What made you move to my school?” Suddenly one of your earphones is between her fingers, your arm in hers to squish her breast slightly which feels so intentional. This bold little chick keeps surprising you in unforeseeable ways. Besides, you can read that she’s definitely testing you. Seems a little bit like an upside-down situation, for you to be the object, and oh, don’t you say you don’t find this rather fun.
“Well, there was an accident. You don’t need to know any further.” Her questions don’t seem to end, however. An eye roll might silence her—
“You can tell me. It’s alri-“
“You’d better shut the fuck up, Jimin.” Your fingers hold her chin up, facing you, merely a breath away as your noses tickle each other. And what gets you a moment later is her eyes, round and glowy, that could easily see through your brain, trying to suffocate you in the vivid yet gooey gaze. And there she plants her words straight into your brain; I’m a little impressed, but try harder. 
A sudden squeak of the brake informs you to get off. You step out of the bus and Jimin quietly follows. Then you start walking at a rather slow pace. The sound of another pair of footsteps is the only clue of her existence for you.
“You made me wait.” You break the silence as you near your house. You don’t bother turning back to be an audience for her commanding attitude, but her cockiness nonetheless makes it to your ears.
“Well, I might have just forgotten. My bad.” You unlock the door, let Jimin in and close it. Right after the thud you pin her arms over her head with one hand, eliciting a sharp yelp from her.
“You made me fucking wait, Jimin. You’ll have to pay for it.” Your face is just a few inches from hers again. Your straining voice is mixed with her breath, hot, and your burning gaze never leaves hers, to return the blow that she had on your mind; you don’t know me yet.
“You should feel lucky.”
“Why?”
“I’m interested in you.” Jimin’s words, however, don’t sound tense or weak despite your visible dominance. Rather, it’s an impudent confidence that defies the dynamic knotted between your eyes. Jimin herself visualizes it with an even wider smile, dense with deliberate harm to your ego.
“Mmm…!” You dive into Jimin’s lips while your other hand suddenly wraps around her neck hard. Keeping the chokehold still, your hand once holding her wrists tears her school shirt open, letting the buttons randomly fly to the floor. With her hands free, they dangle on your arms. Her demure hand tries to push you back from her neck, but her tongue is flapping inside your mouth, already allured by the intenseness. Your other hand hesitates about before swiftly undoing her bra and Jimin drops it on the floor. You squeeze the godly pair of flesh and soon pull back from the kiss.
“Shit, you like it rough, huh?” Jimin giggles, with a killing lip bite, and discards her buttonless shirt. There you feel something kick your heart, to see a girl enjoying your selfishness and harshness for the first time. A thought that this girl might be the one for you passes through your mind like a hit-and-run truck.
You turn yourselves around and make Jimin walk backwards to your bedroom with your guide. Jimin doesn't wait to unbutton your shirt on your way, and the corners of her lips soon get pulled down by the lust exponentially charging up. You try to look calm but you’re no different–can’t help it in front of this amazing figure of Jimin, skin-to-skin just for you.
Entering the bedroom you push Jimin onto the bed. Her under lip experiences another intense bite as you lay her down and climb over her body, face to face just like a few minutes ago. With one hand supporting your weight, you take the other to her irresistible breasts and fondle them. Jimin hooks her arms and magnetizes your lips to hers for a delirious lip lock once again. Your hand slides down her torso to the button of her uniform skirt and undoes it then takes it off of her fatal legs and throws it to the floor.
“Next time you won’t wear these, okay?” It’s a demand but also a command, with your fingers on the wet spot on her panties. Her hands find themselves wandering on your toned chest, much in admiration. She nods quickly and unbuckles your pants.
“Needy,” Her hastiness makes you grin, and your words only make Jimin’s excitement grow.
“Yes. I am.” This is what makes you wanna accept the challenge; she’s talking things like that all too fresh, like you have to feel thankful for it. You take your pants off with your underwear to be fully naked. You help Jimin get rid of the annoying cloth being dampened by her pussy off her legs and throw it to the pile of clothes on the floor. With the anticipation for the next step Jimin’s breath paces up, running thin like her patience.
“You’re fucking big…” Jimin marvels at the way your cock tickles her belly button and her tummy. You slap her bare stomach a few times with your cock, spit on it and spread the slickness across with slow strokes.
“I said you’ll have to pay for it, Jimin,” You rub your cock on her wetness, gaining more lubrication, and slap your cock on her folds to see her reaction.
“Ah, please make me…Make me-OH FUCK…!” You push into the hilt with a swift thrust. The tightness draws a groan straight from your throat, and your right hand rises to her neck and chokes her hard again.
“You tell me who’s lucky. You think it’s still me?” Straight to the point that has been bothering you ever since it was spoken. You love to make things clear—dirty—who’s the one to stand and who’s the one to kneel. And if she ever intended to get under your skin, well, she pushed the wrong button.
Jimin’s eyes slam shut, unlike her agape mouth through which you can see her tongue has lost its way, dragged here and there by the hand of her senses, overthrown by what you’re doing. You keep thrusting in and out at such a pace, every time making sure your balls hit her ass, filling her tight hole up ecstatically with no vacancy.
“Hah, god…! It’s me, I’m the lucky one! I’m so fucking lucky to have your big cock inside me!”
“Good. See, your act doesn’t last a day.”
Her lips tremble, as if about to cry, as if all the fucking around was just a pretense and she actually has to be under you. She bites the lower one but can’t hold the shiver down. 
You move your hand from Jimin’s neck to her face, grabbing her cheeks in one grip. You bring her face close to yours, both shaking to the orgasmic rhythm but never losing eye contact. Then you slap her cheeks, out of nowhere, just enough for the sound to be pleasurable but not too painful. Jimin starts to drool when you do that several times more, with loud, long moans gradually turning into screams.
“Oh, fuck, yes…! FUCK YES…!” Done with the hitting, you push in your fingers to Jimin’s unsilent mouth to get a better hold of her body. A teardrop leaves her glossy eyes and rolls down to where her ear is. A perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, both of which makes you two forget about tomorrow.
“I’m cumming, Jesus! I-I… Fucking cummi-“ Jimin’s back viciously arches so upward that you almost slip out. Her arms don’t seem to settle for a while before they dig into your back to work as anchors, her body vulnerable in the midst of a destructive swirl of pleasure. But that’s none of your concern as you make the haze in her head threaten her consciousness.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.” You wait for Jimin to come down but that’s so silly of you to do so; your ravageous ramming cock never lets her. All of a sudden you pull out, causing Jimin to shake immensely, and flip her on all fours. Her sex is glistening and the other hole is too, both of them slick with her juices and constricting irregularly.
When Jimin feels your cock rub on her pussy she collapses onto the mattress, only her ass up and her face down, exhausted on the bed, faced to the right. But whenever your cock teases her other hole Jimin shudders, toes curl and her fists try to tear your sheets at the sensation of her asshole getting stimulated.
“Agh, fuck…” You don’t warn Jimin when you insert the head of your cock inside her tight ass. This time even you can’t handle the pleasure of its tremendous tightness as you shut your eyes and groan loudly.
“Holy fuck, Jimin, this is so tight,” You tell her when you’re halfway in. Her body stays still, but her hands ball up and her toes curl until they all become pale. Every inch deeper inside her ass is the moment for you to admire the transcendental tightness you’ve never experienced from those other girls you have been through. Maybe you’re lucky too, to have found this perfect body with nothing to lament on.
“Oh, please, that’s deep! Fuck my ass deep just like-oh my fucking god!” Your reaction is quick—it’s more of a reflection though—doing more than what Jimin asked even before she finishes her words, beginning the mindless assfuck with such a carefree pace. You bring her powerless head up with your hand wrapped around her neck, tight, choking her again. The tighter you grip, the tighter her ass gets. You catch a glimpse of the crooked corner of her lips, which only fuels your inner engines to work even harder.
It’s just your thing; when you see a smile, you have to break it. You destroy it, and you sincerely cherish it when it’s gone.
As you reach your maximum speed Jimin’s distorted smile subsides and an even more euphoric look spreads. Mouth open wide, drooling down her chin and onto your hand on her throat, eyes open but white. As if she muted herself, Jimin doesn’t even breathe—not only because of your grip, but also the orgasm building up as fast as how you ram her ass. You grin at the sight of Jimin drowning in the sensations her own nerves convey; you create. It kills you how small her body is, when you can witness a simple—yet ruthless—piston to her crotch can dye her whole skin red, travel electrically to everywhere in no time, shrinking every minimal muscle. You release her, she falls down limp on the bed and screams at the anal orgasm hitting her, threatening her consciousness.
“Ahh! Fuck, fuck…!” You’re nowhere far from your own end, either. Your breath shallows down at the crazy tightness of Jimin’s orgasming ass. 
“Jimin, I’m cumming…!” You do. You reach as deep inside her anal cavern as you can and unload your cum, mind blowing pleasure coursing through every corner of your body. You shoot, and shoot, and shoot. Jimin clenches her hole for your cum to be deposited inside her with a lazy hum, in harmony with your groan seeping out of your gritted teeth.
It takes a few minutes for your breaths to find the normal speed. “No one’s fucked my ass this amazing,”
It surely was enough to bring amazement, undoubtedly the best you’ve had so far. You sit up and rearrange her hair for her.
“Did I pay for it?“ Jimin’s already got that bright smile back, and after such an extreme sex your barriers collapse in front of her, as you smile back at her.
“Very much.”
“Can you get my phone? It’s in my skirt.” You head to the pile of discarded clothes and do it for Jimin, who’s sitting on the bed with her head resting on the headboard. You toss it on the bed.
Jimin looks into her phone right away, scrolls down mindlessly and looks at you, who’s naked and standing next to the bed.
“Take a shower first, baby.”
Baby, she said.
Your eyes dart to hers immediately. Your face stays placid but you know Jimin knows you’re not at all used to it. You never really allow any strings attached with the ones you fuck; it’s a rather body-to-body entanglement than something emotional. But you’re surprised at how that word fits comfortably between you two. There’s something different. You look back at Jimin but her attention is taken by her phone already, again like a hit-and-run truck, but not completely as you can see her smirk the way you love. So you just enter the bathroom. 
In the shower you review the past 30 minutes—you had sex with the girl Yoo Jimin: nothing special. But not just that; Jimin has by far the best body of all the other girls you’ve experienced. You can tell you really enjoyed it today. You can tell she’s worthy of continuing the relationship. You like the way Jimin turns from a bubbly, sassy girl in school to a begging, screaming mess in bed under you. And the way she calls you baby—it dulls all your edges like a cup of boiling water would do to an ice cube. Just like the hot water pouring on your head.
You come out of the shower and see Jimin smoking on your bed, sitting on the edge with her legs crossed, elbow on her thigh, still aesthetically naked. She looks gorgeous like that. You walk to her, take the cigarette from her hand to your mouth. Then push her down on the bed, breathe the smoke in deep and throw the shortened cigarette away to the bin next to bed, breathe out, and share a smoky kiss.
A few moments later your rod pokes at her belly and Jimin parts away with a giggle.
“Fuck, I really have to clean my body.” You bring her off the bed with you. “Shut up and get down here,” With a smirk she does, and as soon as she adjusts her legs and position you shove your cock in her mouth. A gag earned.
But after that Jimin takes your big cock pretty well, without gagging or looking uncomfortable, even when her nose crashes on your crotch; you’ve found yourself a perfect girl, indeed.
“Nice.” Her teary eyes never leave yours throughout the session as you pace up for a brief finish. Adjusting to the speed of your cock moving entirely in and out, Jimin’s hands go up to the back of your thighs for firmer grip.
Jimin’s drool tickles down your balls and forms a small puddle on the floor. With the filthiest slurping sound Jimin bobs her head at the beat of your cock sliding through. Whenever her delicate tongue presses onto the underside of your cock you throb inside her mouth, making her head slightly move simultaneously.
Jimin’s tears meet the drool on her chin, and with a sound of her voice from her throat Jimin taps your thighs for you to pull out. You take your cock out of her mouth and slap it on her fucked face a few times, painting her face with her own saliva, to her liking.
“Finish it.”
Put the shower aside, and you shower Jimin with your lust deep into her throat. You feel your legs not far from giving in, but thankfully your cock is just the same, due to what Jimin is doing under you.
“Jimin, I’m-I’m close.”
Jimin starts to fondle your balls and that certainly helps you cross the line. In no time you fill her throat up white, and the room with your satisfied groan.
You look straight into Jimin’s eyes when you cum, and it’s astonishingly reciprocated when she gulps down your load quickly, professionally. As soon as you are done pouring into Jimin she stands up, showing you her clean tongue with a tilt of her head, and heads to the bathroom. You, left alone, giggle quietly and sprawl on the bed after putting on underwear. 
******
“Text me at lunch break. You know where to meet me.” You just nod at Jimin, who’s in one of your T-shirts that is just a little bit big for her; loss of all the buttons on her uniform comes at a cost. An inner beam blooms under your face when you find her just too perfect in that outfit of school skirt with your T-shirt tucked under it. Those unhidden bra lines count as one of many reasons for you to stare at her, take her in your arms right now and-
“Not now, perv.” Her smirk lets yours surface up to reciprocate hers. You stand up from the bed, approach her and walk her backwards to the wall. Jimin has been playful and relaxed with you and you like it. But when you—just like right now—detect submission in her eyes: you love it. You don’t stop your hand from rising up for her neck and have a good grip around it. You don’t stop the other from being pulled away to her gracious tits and squeezing them.
“Not now?” And there are those big eyes begging for you to go further, that bitten lower lip asking for any contact, as if the one who just quipped ‘not now’ choked out. Always hits you differently when she just switches from a brat to a subby mess out of control.
Contradiction is the most normal of things when you have a tight grip over Jimin. Her reddening face gradually forms a thin smirk when your lips close in to hers. Her eyes close, lips part for a mind-numbing kiss—
“Not now.” You make a sudden pull back and release Jimin from your grip. She stumbles and almost collapses on the floor so you hold her in your arms. For the same purpose and then some, her arms rest on your shoulders and pull you in, only to be denied by your hand pushing her chest off of you, leaving Jimin just keeping a hungry gaze at your lips and whimpering “Please.”
You finish tying the necktie, bring your thumb up to her lips. As it sweeps over them Jimin lets her tongue coat your thumb with her saliva which could’ve blended perfectly with yours.
“To the spot at lunch break, Jimin. And ah,” You stand down and pull her panties down in one sway and she helps herself out of them by lifting her legs respectively. You toss it on the bed and rise up again, for your collarbone to match her height, for her to look up at you again.
“You don’t wear the same panties for two days straight, do you?” Jimin just nods quickly and tries to crush her lips on yours yet again. Seems like she wouldn’t care even if you made her go to school all nude, if she could just mix her tongue with yours right now. Her efforts to make you kiss her is visible to you; eyes so seductive yet not able to take themselves off of their foremost target, lips slightly open for her tongue to peek outside. Seeing that you just step back and prepare to leave for school with an unseen smirk.
“Let’s go.”
******
As anticipated, needy and untidy Yoo Jimin sends you a dozen pictures of her bare crotch under her skirt, saying ‘Want your fingers inside’, ‘Can’t wait for the lunch break.’ Those are to be left on read.
Morning classes fly by as the bell rings to announce the lunch break. The class rushes out for lunch, has a race among them with some of them even running like they have something to win. And amongst that crowd you head to the spot, to Yoo Jimin.
She’s there already waiting for you when you turn the last corner. Legs crossed, back on the brick wall and a half-spent cigarette between her lips, looking so delinquent there with that insanely short skirt and in the shirt you gave. She notices you, has a reet smile on her and throws the cigarette on the ground, and watches you approach her standing still. No immaterial words or acts are needed when you can just kiss those lips like they’re yours. The remnant of the cigarette a fume that makes you dive deeper into this trance her tongue and yours are building, you spontaneously get rid of her skirt and are met with the wet skin under it.
Your fingers taste her crotch, slowly rubbing around and poised for any further indulgence. Her hands are, on the other hand, hectic with your buttons and when they’re done they swiftly go down to your belt. Your pants drop to your ankles in no time with your underwear, and with your erect cock emancipated, Jimin detaches from the kiss and spits on your cock and spreads it.
It all happens so fast that you are still enraptured by the kiss and her tits in your palms, leaving so many treats unfelt to your body. The next second you are inside her, making it even headier for you to follow up.
“Fuck, I needed this.” Jimin grits. With no clue of downshifting she takes the shirt off, her bra to follow suit, and hooks her arms around your neck to stand the frantic sex she wants from you. And that happens right away, as your instinct drops the hammer for you to automatically thrust into her even before you find yourself moaning at the sensation of her inside.
You keep your eyes closed while wrecking her pussy despite the eye candy that is Yoo Jimin during sex, and suddenly you notice her teeth on your shoulder. It’s a pain that can make you grin, that can make you savor the feeling, even it gets even stronger, because now you know that when she bites, she cums. Her legs give in, and you know it by the weight of her arms around your neck. Her walls clench harshly and there’s a stream of her juice down your legs when she cums. Yoo Jimin is so tactile, and when she cums her whole body does, for yours to recognize, you don’t even have to hearken to know it. The auditory input hits your brain the last, the pearly, shaky yelp of the orgasming needy girl adds up to all the stimuli you are taking.
When she comes down you slow down, lazily reaching her cervix as she hums at it every time.
“Kiss me, baby.” You do. It’s saccharine to your tongue. Her tongue distraughtly moves around inside your mouth, some of the drool leaking onto her tits to make it even more impeccable. The gustation mesmerizes you into a rabid sex, this time for yourself to get off. No subduing, only upshifts lead the way as you turn her around, put it back in and lavish thrusts into her sex.
“Shit. Jimin, you’re so fucking perfect.” You’re not saying this again because she might not have heard it; you are repeating it like a low-functioning machine because you’re afraid you haven’t said it enough. And she can condone it—of course she can, it’s a compliment anyway—because she knows it already, because the feeling’s mutual. You say it several more times on the back of her neck, almost making it a tattoo, carving it in intaglio. Still deranged, Jimin is just screaming with her back arching to the sky and carotically facing the brick wall with her left cheek. The right side of her face is rosed up, and her eye has a glimpse of you, your wry face and the sweat-coated torso and shuts and she cums just like that. 
Her breaths are shallow, irregular, a gusty fluid squelches out of her pussy and the scene of her orgasm is intimidating your endurance, easily sending you to an orgasmic stupor and making you spurt out inside her with a gritted groan. 
“Jimin, I… God, fuck…!” To your overstimulated cock Jimin has her shrewd tongue on it, sealed with her lips. Makes your legs wobble, unmercifully agitating your mind with frenzy, but just until she clears your shaft up clean from the tabloid juices all over it.
“I loved it. Maybe we should make it daily.” Jimin rises up, with her skirt and your shirt in her hands and still breathing somewhat heavily. And the desecrated smile on her face is the coercion for you to wear one too, a copacetic one. Shirt on, a smoking cigarette between your fingers, you insinuate to her.
“Your panties are still on my bed, you know.” And she’s shrewd with it—has been from the very beginning—and purrs. “Mhmm, I’m going to go fetch it after school with you.”
Of course, is what your nods that follows says, and there’s my girl, says your zest-filled grin, looking at her back that walks out of the corner. It’s always that intrinsic sass you could simply, so simply kill for. Maybe a challenge for you, maybe a finesse for you to be benumbly trapped into. It’s your choice, and from some point on the latter looks dazzling to you; maybe you’re a person who just dyes so well, to a derogated girl who seemed to have taken everything you’ve given but turns out she just put you in the phantasma of her own stardust without you realizing it—you’ve lost it in her, somehow. And that’s bizarre: and you love it.
******
You’re standing at the bus stop, hands in your pocket and looking around to find your girl. When you do, you’re so surprised at how Jimin so stands out among all the crowd while doing nothing but just walk. Even from miles out you’re sure you’ll spot her in a second. The belle of the crowd, wherever she is. She’s not the tallest but still piques herself on her to-die-for aura like she blurs everyone out. As if she sensed the scrutiny, Jimin looks up from her phone, looks around and soon finds you looking at her. You hate to be seen so infatuated like this but you can’t help it, as your eyes meet hers and your face brightens up, half from seeing her and half at yourself caught like that.
“That happy to see me?” You don’t answer, just bring your hands to her crotch and check there’s no underwear blocking your way. A flick over her uncovered pussy earns you a shocked look.
“This is not your bedroom!” Jimin shouts in whisper, but not with caution, but an intrigued grin with eyes darting around the crowd waiting for the bus.
“Are you telling me to stop?” You take your fingers to her mouth, her tongue welcoming the taste of horniness coated all over your fingers. “I’m telling you not to stop.”
So your hand returns to her pussy. You’re rubbing, tapping on and hooking your fingers in, Jimin bites on her own fingers not to relinquish her scream. You hold her trembling body as steady as possible but you know that it’ll be absolutely normal if the people around you realize that you two are having a little fun explicitly in public. Everyone’s looking at you and Jimin in front of you, facing the same way as you and receiving that dirty fingering amongst so many audiences.
In a few minutes the bus is here, to show you only one vacant seat left. You take the seat and Jimin sits on your lap, facing backwards and hugging your neck. You resume the unholy yet entertaining fingering to the pretty moaning girl on your lap.
And you return to who you really are: you’re a gentleman yourself, with etiquette, with common decency, to pull Jimin’s head down on your shoulder to muffle her nasty sound on it. You know even the driver is looking at you through the mirror, but that’s because of her, not you; again, you’re making no noise, and Jimin in your embrace is the culprit of all the squeaky, watery, moaning noise, not you. 
“Quiet, Jimin.” Now her teeth dig into your skin, synchronizing with your fingers indulging into her wet, tight hole. You know what you’re doing won’t shut her up. You’re just saying it, a formality. Inside your mind you want her to moan loudly, at the same time want to see her struggle keeping it quiet. So you yank her hair back to watch her distorted face, observe every tiny wriggle of her expression.
“Ah…!” Look into her eyes as if wanting to pierce through them. Jimin looks at you too, flooding with lust, drowning in her own sensations of sex and embarrassment of being exposed in such a public situation. “I’m almost there.” It’s a plain text but she’s begging there. She says she’s almost there but she’s already there, as it seems.
“Yeah, we’re almost there.” A bump on the road makes your fingers hit her spot, makes her back arc, makes her almost, almost lose it right there. You pull out your fingers from her hot cavern to the relatively cool air of the bus. Her liquid feels fresh out in the air but that feeling is soon lost, by her tongue wrapping them up and sucking it clean—suckling it dirty.
The bus stops right then for only you and Jimin to get off. It’s much quieter than inside the bus, partially due to you not fingerfucking her anymore. In no time you’re at the door of your house, unlock it, swing open and it slams shut. Simultaneously Jimin hops on you and dive into your mouth with hers. You stumble through to your bedroom, toss her on the bed, swiftly undo your belt and pants with your boxers, let your already hard dick spring out but don't let it feel the air as it vanishes into Jimin’s waiting pussy right away.
No one speaks a word. No one can, to be fair. You two are merely inches away from dying, too impatient to wait another second. And there you let Jimin approach death a bit closer by holding her neck around, a perfect necklace for her, and straining your hand. Jimin’s mouth is open, difficulty in breathing so visible, face reddening but there’s still her hunger in it; she grins. Her smile is so cruel, violent, so evil yet joyful, as if she’s the victimizer and you’re the victim.
“Please, baby… Kill me. Fucking choke me to death, please, choke me and kill me-fuck!” You make her scream when you slap her tits, as if you were angry at her, but you’re the opposite—you love her so much that you just want to abuse her, to her liking, just like right now. All her sensations seem to evaporate as her eyes roll back and her hands drop to her sides spiritlessly: or, airlessly. You let her go, not wanting to actually kill her.
With a giant inhale Jimin returns from the border of unconsciousness. Her hands travel from her own tits, your hands, and soon back to the sheets, still wandering in need for anything to release the tension. So you pin down her wrists and pace up your thrusts.
“Fuck, Jimin. Don’t tempt me. You make me really want to fuck you dead.” You’re saying it right on her face, which enables her to feel that you mean it. There she tries to kiss your lips, but you pull back with agility, instead covering her mouth and nose with your palm, again suffocating her to your liking, to your loving, to your abnormal, psychopathic obsession.
“I want to see you struggle for life. I want to see you beg for life. You’ll look so perfect like that.” Jimin screams into your hand, covers it with her saliva and tears. You close in with your other hand groping her tit and your cock hitting everywhere inside her squeezing cunt. Jimin’s eyes widen as her orgasm fades in, muffling “I’m cumming!” Several times on your palm before peaking like never before. Her orgasm never gives her the time to even shut her eyes as they roll into her head. Her scream penetrates your hand over her mouth as it departs on your ears so deliciously.
That’s what psychopaths do, isn’t it? To experience the catharsis washing over your spine and get off with how a person screams, all helpless, with tears, shallow breaths as if soon going to die, or at least pass out. Maybe it’s that she’s making it clear about who you are. Would be a pleasure to embrace it.
And it’s your turn now. You pull out, escaping Jimin’s spent pussy with quite an amount of her squirt, leaving her all trembling and arching. There’s a layer of sweat all over her body and it makes it look like a scene from any pornography. Jimin doesn’t move a bit-only her chest is heavily healing up and down, even after you flip her upside down.
You tease her asshole with your middle finger and when she senses it enter she helps you by spreading her cheeks for deeper insertion. No resistance in and out of her ass. Every curl inside her ass makes Jimin squeeze her own cheeks as a response with a powerless moan. “Mmm, fuck me please… I’m not done yet.” Of course. You grin and prepare your cock for the second entrance as you pull Jimin up on all fours. Her arms give up when you rub your glistening cock on her pussy lips. And her reason gives up when you penetrate her rear hole.
“Ahh-fuck yes!”
“Holy fuck. This is so tight.” Her tightness erases your patience to savor it slowly. You start ruining her ass with the intention of actually destroying it. Jimin frowns, loud moan seeping through the bitten lip, hands curling into fists but arms all powerless on her sides.
“It’s so good, it’s so fucking good…! Don’t stop it baby. Make me cum like a fucking whore…!” Her voice can’t even get louder when her words just melt on the mattress just like her. Her words turn to nothings, eyes squeeze shut, concentrating all her senses to where she’s getting fucked. You feel your eyelids become heavier every single thrust, but the visual pleasure is just too good to give up watching it-her ass up for you to fuck it senseless, narrow waist contrasting her wide hips so aesthetically. The cherry on top is the expressions on her gorgeous face which you can’t quite read. Just like when all colors mixed makes pitch-black, her facial wrinkles and twitches are the perfect mixture of all pleasure, ecstasy that you can’t tell what she’s feeling at this moment.
“Nngh!” Actually, you can. Jimin is orgasming so hard, clear—dirty—liquid pumping out of her empty pussy to flood the mattress. Her ass squeezes your cock too hard for you to move in and out as fast as before without blasting every drop in her climaxing ass hole.
So you park it deep in her contracting hole, stay there, and shut Jimin’s moaning mouth with yours. She doesn’t care—or she doesn't acknowledge—and keeps screaming for her life even after her peak has washed over. A few dozen seconds pass, she calms down to at least breathe regularly when you stand your torso up to resume the session.
“You… You have to cum…” As if she even cares for you instead of her own pleasure. You know she just wants more overwhelming orgasm only you can deliver, and you are no different. There’s something about this body, these tits, the voice, this face, this pussy, this ass; there really is something about Yoo Jimin. Without your knowledge you are humping her like a villain, mad, but with a grin that’s so dangerous that Jimin mirrors. Your hand already made itself home around her neck, a red mark of it pressing hard inevitable, tears rolling down along her side face.
“I’m going to fill you up, Jimin.” And with a sharp inhale you begin wrecking her inside. A gut-rearranging pounding is what her perfect ass deserves and she can’t even open her eyes properly-either one stays closed against her will, rolling up to see that there’s nothing inside her head.
“Fuck! Please, please, please, please… Gah, I’m- Again…!” How impatient. There’s not even a point for you to call a flaw. Immoral, impatient, vulgar, dirty… She’s all too perfect. And you’re sure that’s why you cum so hard, like never before.
A nasty pair of voices fill each other’s brain as you two cum. You lower your body, forehead on hers and eyes on hers, looking through those teary orbs as you feel yourself bursting out gregariously. No words but loud pants bridge your sensations to each other, and until the last spurt you don’t even blink in order to see Jimin go through her own orgasm.
That’s it; it’s been your undesirable sadistic desire that kept you on fire, and when you have saturated it it flips out of your head, making it empty—there hasn’t been anything other than that. When you’re done completely you let Jimin go from your glare, sit on the edge next to her gasping body. Your urge is swept off so cleanly, and you can see how dirty it was by the mess on your bed.
“Are you alright?” You ask, but looking up at the ceiling, not Jimin. You don’t turn your head but can already sense her looking at you. “You’re just so perfect.” Selfishly she doesn’t answer. And you hear the smirk in her words. You make one on your face too, hearing that, stand up, face her and find Jimin overloading your vision with how she gorgeously lies down there, making even all the nasty things complement her perfection.
“I’ll shower. Just don’t fall asleep on the bed. It’s dirty.” You tell Jimin, all helpless and powerless on the bed and panting like she just had the best sex in her life. The lustful girl who was begging for you to kill her is nowhere to be found; instead there’s a weak, short of breath, vulnerable and lithe angelic devil with your cum gushing out of her ass. As if a few more touches and she’d actually evaporate.
In the shower you barely feel the water on your body, so distracted by your own thoughts—your own thoughts but in the grabs of Yu Jimin. The exact same as yesterday, you are showering yourself with your shocked, strange feelings in the shower after sex that simply blew your mind.
It's just that she's too good. Too good to call it a hook-up, too good to make it only an occasional sex. The way she craves your cock, the way she begs for your violence, the way she’s so desperate for extreme orgasms under your hold. It’s the first time for you to smile just by thinking of a girl, especially when you’re such a harsh and rough type of a person even you’d admit. She’d let you hit her. She’d let you choke her, let you fuck her, destroy her—let you love her.
Then the door opens, a small, pale figure of female comes in, walks slowly through the mist of the hot water. Jimin stops in front of you, legs barely holding there, face buried on your chest and her arms locked around your neck to support her lithe body but they barely do. You move a little backward to let her more of the hot water.
As if all the water got into your veins, you feel your heart burn. Just look at her—legs all wobbly, barely standing, too exhausted to even look up at you, her hands at the back of your neck irregularly stroking the back of your head as if signaling she’s at least perceiving things properly. You put a hand on her back and spread the water on it, and that’s when she lifts her head and meets your eyes. 
Weak and lethargic like a candlelight in front of a tsunami, Jimin is barely standing there with low moans whenever her legs wobble and give up. Her arms tighten around your neck as one of yours hug her back so that she doesn’t collapse. Her face is right beneath yours, tilted up to face yours. Those eyes can’t avoid looking at your lips, which is just what you’re doing to her unashamedly.
Your hand climbs up to the back of her head. Regardless of that you and Jimin are exchanging such a strong yet soft, intense yet loving eyelock. It is an atypically genial moment and if you look back at this moment you might throttle yourself. She should know it by now, from the visible, audible changes on you. 
(Maybe you were afraid. Or beyond that. Love was what your fears were afraid of. Doesn’t quite make sense to say that you have fears, but anyways, you didn’t want, nor expect a couple nights to escalate to an actual romance.)
Minutes pass, and pass, and—and pause, when you pull her a bit into your arms and make a soundless, yet seismic kiss. Lips lock. Two pairs of lips open and a pair of tongues make contact, hug each other just like you two. Her hands snake into your hair, your head in her hands and deeper into the kiss. You two have even forgotten to breathe as the liplock continues for what feels like a lifetime, to complete the kiss of your life. When you try to pull back Jimin lunges a bit forward not to break the kiss, and you let your system suffocate a few dozen seconds more. 
“You’re so beautiful, Yu Jimin.” You finally tell her this. Not the literal confession of love but she gets it with the bewitching smile she always wears like nothing. Never been in love, you feel like you’re sent back to childhood, pure and intact, but that feeling is shattered into pieces when her hand finds your hardened cock poking at her belly.“Is that why you’re so hard, baby?” This time, the word ‘baby’ sounds so right with a lip bite of your lover and with a lust-filled grin on you. Her thumb slides on the underside of the tip, almost making you stumble back.
“Yes. Just like you’re always horny because of me.”  With a smirk you turn her around, bend her over so that her hands are on the wall, and put your cock in in one stroke. Jimin helplessly loses all the strength in her legs and falls but you're prudential enough not to let her. It's to the point where she's just hanging from your arms when you kindle the movement. Her skin looks even more satin with the water so you collar her and go on. You can't stop when the biggest impetus is jonesing for it. No choice but to harden the grip on her throat.
Jimin is flaccid on the wall, fingers fumbling on and desperately digging themselves on it with her head facing down. You are never going to unbind her until she falls into a stupor. “Baby I… I fucking love it so deep…! Use me just like that…” She can't let it out loud and soon loses all voice, raises her head, brings yours right beside hers and kisses you. And a feeling that this is the requital for your disclosure makes it compulsory to reciprocate it poignantly. Her hand guides one of yours to her tits, pushes it hard on it to make you squeeze them and soon the convulsions agitate through her body. Her orgasmic screams reverberate through your throat, which is also moaning out of the pleasure congesting your mind. 
When the kiss breaks her yelps stifle the smacking and squelching. You have no idea if it’s your heartiness or just overstimulation from before the shower, but her voice sounds so giddy she might just hit the floor all limp. The burgeoning pleasure conglomerates into a derogated vertigo, the unbearable sensations stack up in your spines and Jimin’s wringing walls really doesn’t help you push it down. Her eyes tell you—because her mouth can’t right now—she’s only a couple thrusts away from coming undone, tantamount to what’s threatening to blow your mind, break down your nerves.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m fucking coming…!” A tautology that is so understandable. You help her, add to the pleasure by choking her. Her moans permeate to your hand through her throat and the foul secretion of her orgasm flows down her legs with the water pelting down on your bodies. Jimin fumbles on the wall with her fingers, too herring-gutted to digest the deray.
“Jimin. Yu Jimin. I’m coming too-fuck…!” When Jimin hears her name she hums, and when she feels the warmth coat her walls she buckles, arches her back to beckon your lips and jockeys her tongue between them. In less than a minute however she pulls back, due to lack of air, because of your chokehold, and pants in your face, with a pejorative smile, but no sign of mannerism—you all know, that smile that follows after an exquisite sex—her sheer feelings carved in it, and you willingly mirror it as a beck of mutuality.
******
A rather huge thing is settled. Sitting on the edge of the bed together, with a cigarette between your fingers for each, you recount your history: the reason you moved, your personality, your sex life being like this. All of them, however, converge to her, Yu Jimin, weirdly enough for you who just can’t concede any feelings involved, which sounds like a monolithic psychopath which actually might be who you are.
Well, a little bit of romance couldn’t kill, could it? You think, lying next to Jimin and slowly closing your eyes to fall-
“You haven’t said it yet.”
“Say what?”
“You only said I’m beautiful.”
“And?”
“I know there’s something more. You know there’s something more.”
There you fail to hold out the chuckle.
“I don’t know what you’re-“
“It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to be shy about it,”
Jimin mischievously giggles. You know you can’t just laugh it off, and you won’t. That intricate feeling that tickles, but is not transient.
With a somnolent voice, you placidly say, like a tagline of a tragedy—or a comedy.
“Love you, Jimin.”
Her grin infiltrates her words hearing it.
“That’s it, my boy. Love you too.”
******
745 notes · View notes
linospuddin · 29 days
Text
Cold as ice
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Genre: fluff, first love, suggestive smut
Cw: FigureSkater!Minho x FigureSkater!Reader, slow(ish) burn, first kiss, he's shy, grumpy x sunshine kinda, rivals to lovers if you really squint, making out, hickies, smutty thoughts
Wc: 11.7k
Summary: Minho finds the icy cage around his heart melting sooner than he thought, and you were the flame
A/N: This was so fun to write I genuinely loved this sm, the song vibe is sparks by coldplay if anyone wants to listen while they're reading like me lol
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Minho stood at the entrance of the Olympic ice rink with a newfound excitement for his skating career- his heart racing with a blend of nerves and ecstasy. He felt the cool air hitting his face, the frostiness biting at the moisture on his lips, felt his limbs being pierced with the harsh cold of where he felt most at home, and he knew he belonged.
He had sacrificed the majority of his life to get to this rink, gave up countless hours, missed important life events, and trained vigorously to the point of exhaustion just to stand here and compete for his country. A part of him looks back and wished he could've formed better connections with the people around him, a small twinge pulled at his heart when his peers didn't send him off, but he knew he didn't regret it.
Not when he was the one that got to stand on this ice, when he was the one that was going to represent his country and stand on the podium with a gold medal when all was said and done.
Minho loved being alone on the ice like this, he loved when it was just him and the sound of his blades cutting through the frozen surface- no one watching, no one putting pressure on him to be better. He felt an unparalleled freedom when he was allowed to just skate, to not feel.
The rink was his canvas, each push of his legs painted a picture over the ice that transformed it into proof of his dedication and passion for the sport he had devoted his life to.
The man had graduated from rink to rink in his journey, upgrading with every step of progress- and as Minho flawlessly executed the junior championship routine that had gotten him into the most important rink in his skating world, he marveled in the feel of it all. How much smoother the ice felt under his feet, simply how much more room he had to practice each jump and glide that merged seamlessly with his movements.
In his mind, the arena echoed with applause and the sweet taste of validation that he would get for all the hard work that had led him to this refined moment on the glistening surface.
"First time?" He heard a soft voice call out to him, the sound of another pair of blades gently scratching the surface reaching his ears at the same time.
He looked up and didn't see another figure skater anywhere on the ice.
But he did see an angel.
You glided across the ice so gracefully that it looked like you were floating.
You effortlessly lifted your leg and caught it behind your head, pushing yourself into an upright spin. Minho couldn't help his eyes from scanning across your legs, captivated by the seamless fluidity of your movements. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
Minho had a rule that he wouldn't let himself forget, and that was not to let anyone get in the way of his gold medal. He never bothered to become more than acquaintances with anyone he used to skate with- and the few friends he had outside of the ice eventually grew away from him, intimidated by his all consuming dedication to the sport.
He knew he couldn't break this rule now more than ever, so Minho stayed silent, just observing the mysterious skater from the corners of his eyes. As you continued to skate, each twirl and jump performed with an effortless grace, he came to the realisation that he hadn't found much joy in watching other people skate until right now. Minho remained in his solitary rhythm, maintaining the distance he had carefully cultivated to protect his focus.
As soon as he tore his eyes off of you, it was like you knew that you had lost his attention. Your soft voice, like a gentle breeze, began gliding through the air again, spurring his eyes to look up once more at your routine.
"I remember my first time on this ice too, amazing right?"
Still, he hesitated, torn between the familiar path of solitude and the intriguing possibility of.. no.
"What's your name?"
"Minho."
He may be opposed to making friends but he wasn't impolite, he'd answer if you asked him a direct question.
"Korea, right?"
He nodded.
"I watched your championships."
He hummed, staring down at the fluffy socks that were peeking out of your skates.
Minho already felt uneasy, knowing that you knew his style of skating, had seen his best performance to date, how he reacted to the crowds, yet he remained in the dark about anything to do with you.
The asymmetry of your knowledge of eachother made Minho weary, he felt like you had an advantage over him already.
"I'm Y/n." You announced, extending a hand to him but he didn't take it.
The air was heavy with the unspoken tension that had bubbled up in him from this small interaction.
"Making a friend isn't going to stop you from doing your best, you know?" You offered, your words cutting through the frosty air. Minho looked up, meeting your eyes with a conflicted expression. Despite your gentle encouragement, his  focus on the gold medal remained unwavering. He didn't want just to do his best; he wanted to bring home that prize.
His gaze shifted down to the patch of your country's flag sewn into your jacket, and he pursed his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the reality of the situation, you were here to try and beat him too at the end of the day.
It was ingrained in his mind from a very young age that he didn't need friends in this world. He needed to win. Minho chaneled all of his energy into surpassing his peers instead of conversing with them- he knew their names, and he knew their rankings. He didn't entertain any attempts at training together, lest they all steal his routines and steal his success.
"If I was going to make a friend it wouldn't be with someone I was competing against."
"Suit yourself, Minho," you grinned, "I'll be here if you want company."
He was sure he wouldn't want company, but he gave you a small nod nonetheless and watched as you slipped a pair of earphones in your ears and relocated to the far end of the rink so as not to collide with his space.
He appreciated that.
When he next came, during the more acceptable hours of the next day to be out skating, the ice was teeming with other competitors when he went back. He groaned under his breath, of course he couldn't police the rink, but he hated this.
Now he had to pay attention to his surroundings properly, he didn't get to just skate and lose himself in the silence, he had to watch everything, not just focus on himself.
Now he would feel uncomfortable in his own skin everytime a pair of eyes looked him up and down.
He felt uncomfortably exposed like this.
He felt like his every glide was being watched, examined, picked apart, stolen for other routines, magpied by other coaches.
No, he'd come back later.
He'd come back when he could focus.
There was no use being on the ice like this, not when he could barely keep his eyes straight in from of him; darting his eyes back and forth every two seconds to check for other skaters just in case someone got too close and he would collide-
Minho's fear materialized just then, right as he was thinking about avoiding it, he failed to see you right in front of him. The two of you tangled together in an unexpected embrace, his limbs flailing to keep himself upright amidst his moment of weakness- a stark contrast to the usual upmost precision and control that he prided himself on.
He cleared his throat, a habit that he used to shove the lump of embarrassment that made it hard for him to swallow out of his airway.
"Sorry," he mumbled, his ears tinting in a cherry blush that seemed much more bright on the ice.
"Are you okay?" You asked him, trying to surpress a smile at how his hands squeezed your arms, surprised by the unexpected shift of balance.
He noticed then. That he was still holding on to you tightly, and quickly removed himself, rubbing at his cheek subtly to try and force the blush back down his neck.
Cute.
"I'm okay."
"Be careful," you nodded towards him, skating backwards through the current of people. He watched as they all seemed to contort around you, fitting you into their paths and you didn't even need to look at where they were.
Minho wondered if that was a skill that came with skating around other people. If having friends on the ice allowed him to better suit himself for not skating alone.
When would he ever need that, though?
"Wouldn't want anything getting in the way of your gold medal?"
He heard your voice before he saw your face again, pirouetting around him like a ballerina.
You stopped in front of him, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you stared up into his stoic expression. It seemed he was as emotionally resilient as the ice.
"Do you speak only when someone's asking you a question?" You quipped, teasingly.
His response was a curt, "no."
You giggled at the irony, and a crack appeared in Minho's rigidly crafted exterior as he pursed his lips into a small smile and let his head flop down to hide it.
You wished he didn't hide it, though, as that split second his face held something more than that blank expression you wanted to chase it- tilt his head back up to see the smile he didn't want to show you.
"Well, you wanna skate?"
He looked to the side and let the anxiety bubble back up through his veins at the sight of all the other people moving past his field of view.
"How can you skate with so many people?"
You shrugged, a casual nonchalance in your response, "habit, I didn't really get to use private rinks a lot."
The admission carried a hint of your own experiences, and you wondered for a brief moment if he was going to open up about his to continue the conversation.
He didn't continue.
Of course not.
"What about you?"
Minho's stoic exterior seemed to reassert itself, mending the cracks as soon as you asked him a question about himself that he deemed suspicious. The question lingered in his air and in his thoughts as he pushed himself along behind you.
You faced him, skating backwards carefully as it you were guiding him through the people, opening up a path for him to start a new journey on the ice.
He watched you smile and greet everyone you skated past like you had known them for years, and maybe you had, he truly couldn't tell. Maybe if he hadn't been so shut off you would've asked about his day so far like you were chatting to an old friend.
Your question was deemed forgotten, but he still mulled it over- thinking about how talented and truly passionate you must've been to get this far without the opportunity to skate in a private rink.
Thinking about how he probably wouldn't have gotten this far without it, most of his love for the sport came with the fact that he could be alone.
Thinking about asking you about your experiences, to dissect how different the two of you were in that regard.
He skated behind you, internally grateful for the path you were clearing for him, but he didn't vocalise his appreciation.
He glided in silence.
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In the next week, the man had found himself exhausted with the fridge that came in his dorm and reluctantly reatreated to the canteen. With his tray in hand, he looked around at the semi-filled tables, observing the groups of people, most just competitors from neighbouring countries huddling together.
It felt foreign to him.
But Minho was no stranger to eating alone. With a quiet determination, he selected an empty table and sat down gently, placing his head on his palm as he started to pick at the offerings that had came with his tray. The clatter of cutlery and hum of distant conversations accompanied his solitude, he had done this many times before, but he didn't feel quite as alone until right now.
He thought the rest of these people would be the same as him, closed off and obsessed with success, he didn't think it would be like school all over again- with cliques and small exclusive groups of people that all looked so happy eating together.
Friends.
They were all friends.
Then, a burst of laughter resonated from a nearby table and something stirred in his chest. He glanced up, and as he had expected, it was your table- the pleasant sound of your laughter that disrupted his thoughts.
You met his eye and a quick, strange, panic seized over him- he felt his face heating up and he didn't know why. Minho swiftly averted his gaze and pretended to be engrossed in the intricacies of his half eaten meal, masking the way his pulse spiked when you noticed him looking.
God, that was wrong. That felt wrong.
That felt like something that would get in the way of his gold medal if he entertained it.
Minho's sudden focus was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a second tray landing on his table. Startled, like a lonely kitten, he looked up with wide eyes to find you standing there at the foot of the bench opposite him.
There was a moment of silence shared between the two of you as surprise flashed across his face, replaced with uncertainty, and then quickly painted back over with his usual plain expression.
"You looked like you could use some company," you shrugged with a casual smile.
Minho hesitated, this new turn of events throwing him for a bit of a loop. It was clear you were going to join him no matter what he did, so he might as well just accept it and try and finish his food as quick as he could.
"I didn't need it."
"Well, now you've got it," you replied with a gentle insistence.
He watched as you sunk down into the chair, resting your elbows on the table and your chin in your intertwined hands as you looked back at him.
The man cleared his throat, blinking rapidly and subtly chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looked back down. His nervous tics betrayed the emotional conflict occurring deep in the back of his mind.
Why were you so insistent on getting him out of his shell?
He wanted to ask, but that would in turn be getting himself out of his shell, so he sat in silence to regain his control- no different to before you were sat across from him.
That lonely feeling from before dissapated though, and for that he was grateful.
From that moment onward, every time Minho would show himself in the canteen- a subtle shift in the dynamic between the two of you took place. No matter which table he chose, no matter how far away from your usual spot he placed himself, you made it a point to come and join him.
Even despite the fact that he ate in silence, you did it opposite him. A small smile etched on your lips spoke louder than any small talk you could've tried to bother him with. You were happy with this arrangement and he couldn't figure out why for the life of him.
He knew he was difficult, knew that his cold and judging exterior that he presented was challenging for everyone around him. He prided himself on his control, the fact that he could navigate the confusing social interactions around him with said coldness, but something about seeing you sat across from him despite it prompted a lump to stir in his throat.
Why were you putting up with his silence?
Did you really have any interest in the thoughts he didn't share with anyone, or was he just a dull challenge? Someone for you to open up and then spare nothing but a morning greeting on the ice when all was said and done?
What if, in the process of sharing himself, you regarded him a puzzle solved and just.. moved on?
Over the weeks, yours and his schedules seemed to blend together seamlessly. The two of you found yourselves on the ice together more often than not, despite Minho's initial attempts to shake you off. He sought the emptiness of the early mornings and the late nights and, so it seemed, did you.
The rink became a shared space for the two of you, and it had gotten so bad that he looked for you when he entered- he would stay far away sure, but he looked for you. He couldn't help but glance around to make sure you were there, sat on the bleachers adjusting your skates or already twirling on the ice, your presence had somehow already become a part of his new routine.
Today, however, you weren't there.
He had gotten so used to skating in tandem with you, seperate routines, and yet intertwined on the frozen canvas as the marks that your skates left threaded together by the time the both of you were finished.
For a moment, a subtle but undeniable pang snagged at Minho's heart.
It wasn't quite sadness, no, more like discomfort.
The ice felt emptier now.
He whipped his head around as he span, his eyes searching the room for your bag or something of yours to quell the weird feeling pooling heavy in the bottom of his legs.
The sound of his blades cutting the ice felt louder now, echoed stronger without the other half of the room being polluted with the sound of yours slicing through his beloved silence.
Did he like it? He didn't know anymore.
What he did know was that he didn't like not knowing where you were.
That need for control reared its head, and some sort of anxiety washed over him like a gentle yet unrelenting wave. This was his routine now, he skated with you, and now you were gone.
His thoughts weren't clear with you gone, and his thoughts weren't clear when you were here- the confusing emotions that stirred restlessly within him made him frown. He almost longed for your presence, longed for the knowledge of your whereabouts, and longed for everything to go back to how it was when he didn't have to worry about distracting things like you.
He wasn't used to confronting problems like this.
When had Minho ever needed to navigate his emotions in order to concentrate?
He could push those down, he usually could ignore it all and just skate. He was having trouble just skating recently and it was bothering him, you were bothering him.
The man huffed to himself, a frustrated acknowledgement of his sudden codependency on your companionship, it struck him as a little amusing despite everything.
He could almost be moved to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it.
Minho found himself walking straight to the canteen when his session was over, the need to ask you where you'd been lingering in his mind- an impulse to understand why you'd disrupted his routine.
However when he arrived, he didn't find you sat at your usual table either. A frown etched into his face as he stood amist the moving current of people, caught between leaving and maybe.. asking?
He sucked in a breath, hesitation pushing through him before he pursed his lips and headed toward your usual table.
"Hey," Minho greeted, masking his small amount of worry with a composed exterior. "Have you seen Y/n around?"
The other skaters looked up, sharing glances between themselves, no doubt they recognised him as the man you always joined, the one who always sat alone. Three men and one other woman sat at your table, he didn't have a faintest clue of any of their names, but he picked up an Australian accent as the one closest to him spoke first.
"Yeah, she took a spill this morning. Went to get checked out by the medical team."
Oh.
You were hurt.
That upset him.
"She'll be back soon though, she didn't want to go, it was just her coach making her check it out."
A wave of relief washed over Minho, his initial concern fading. "Thank you," he replied, nodding at the information.
Minho chewed on the inside of his cheek.
Maybe if he had made more of an effort with these people, with your friends, he wouldn't have been the only one in the dark about your situation. The walls he'd built to isolate himself had isolated you from him, and the realisation made him sigh.
He turned on his heel to leave, losing what little appetite he had in the first place.
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Minho's knee bounced up and down with restless energy as he sat on the bleachers the next morning. He took small sips of his hot chocolate, watching the empty ice and the way it glistened in the light- the thought that it was similar to the twinkle in your eyes didn't escape him.
One cup sat untouched next to his thigh, waiting for your arrival.
His gaze flickered to the entrance, wondering when you would appear. When you did, he straightened his back and fixed his posture, clearing his throat of that lump again before he could realise what he was doing. It was a reflexive action, and it wasn't intended to alert you of his presence so abruptly, but you smiled as you fixed your view on him.
Minho watched you approach, climbing up two of the levels to sit beside him silently. The action melted a part of his icy walls, the fact that you were willing to just sit next to him- just share his company.
Your eyes fell to the cup he held in his hands, and then flickered to the one that sat besides him- in between the two of you. As your gaze met his, you grinned knowingly and the warmth from it caught him off guard.
He blinked rapidly, composed facade faltering as he looked at you like a deer caught in headlights- blush tinting his ears. He had to look away.
"It's for you," Minho mumbled, gently pushing the cup towards you slightly as his eyes locked on something far in the corner.
From then on, he brought you a hot chocolate every day just to see that smile again.
Most of the time, and if he would arrive later than you, he would leave it by your bag- opting to watch you from afar when you realised what he'd done. Sometimes he would be bold enough to wait for you and hand it to you himself on the rare occasion he was feeling that confident.
Today you happened to be stood right behind him in the line to the small sponsored cafe that he had buying the drinks from. He didn't know how to navigate this.
He fully intended not to break his routine today, but there was something about having you right there that made him nervous.
Minho kept glancing over his shoulder at you the further down the line he got, and this time you looked back. A coy smile tugged on your lips, as if you knew of his struggle, waiting to see what he would do now that he didn't have the option to drop the drink off from afar.
Control yourself, he thought, this is fine.
He paid for the two hot chocolates still, except only picking one off of the counter when they were done despite the barista calling out for him.
He heard your rushed footsteps from behind, the other drink in hand as you fell into step with him.
"Thank you," you hummed, looking up at his reddish brown hair.
The man spared you a passing nod, playing with the hem of his jacket to steal his focus away from wanting to observe your smile from so close.
"I'll pay you back."
That made him look.
He shook his head, "no need."
"But these are expensive."
He thought back on one of the very first pieces of information he knew about you- that you never got to skate in empty rinks growing up. He assumed that you didn't have the means to book one out or pay for private sessions like he did.
He didn't particularly think the drinks were expensive, but you did and you still wanted to pay him back.
"It's fine."
"Minho.."
His heart skipped when you said his name.
"I'm not going to accept your money no matter what you say, so, you might as well just keep it and stop complaining."
You smiled, and he cocked his head towards you inquisitively.
"I think that's the most you've ever said to me."
He blinked.
You were right.
He cleared his throat of embarrassment yet again, fixing his gaze forward on the journey back to the rink- the guards on his skates tapping gently against the linoleum flooring.
You laughed now, a joyous sound that spread infectiously to his face no matter how much he willed it not to- and he smiled with you.
When the two of you got back to the ice, it was then that Minho noticed you sitting on the bleachers, taking off a pair of trainers to slip on your skates instead and he wondered why you hadn't just worn them on your way like he usually did.
As if you knew why he was watching you, you smiled bashfully, pursing your lips into a pout that he couldn't help but think was cute.
"I lost my guards," you laughed. "I can't damage these blades either."
"You didn't bring back-ups?"
He skated away from the edge of the rink as you shook your head no, joining him on the ice. The distance between the two of you didn't loom so large now that he wanted to gauge in conversation with you.
He couldn't help but smile.
That was stupid.
"The sports shop is only a 15 minute drive away."
"I can't drive," you shrugged.
He could.
Minho kept the information of his driver's license to himself as the two of you began your normal routine of skating together yet apart, but the prospect of offering you help nagged at his brain every time he caught a glimpse of you.
As he glided across his side of the rink, strewing together twirls and spins and jumps into the same routine he'd been practicing since he got here, his mind wandered to you.
He contemplated the simplicity of it.
Would you like me to take you?
He could surely ask, there would be no harm done- the probability of you saying yes far outweighed you saying no, but he still chewed the inside of his cheek in nervousness.
No? Why would I want you to take me?
A shiver shuddered down his spine at the thought of it. If that happened he probably would never open his mouth to you again.
Minho's face almost pressed down against the ice as he skillfully executed a hydroplane, his leg extended straight out with precision. The seamless movement demonstrated his mastery of technique and control as he moved into a spin, hands pressing into the frozen surface, guiding him into a position that bordered on lying horizontally.
He could feel the chill seeping through his clothes- making his face pink as his cheek brushed the ground.
Minho felt a sense of pride as he lifted back up on his feet, his movements seamlessly transitioning from the spin to a standing position. As he glanced up, a small smile played on his lips when he noticed that you had stopped your routine.
Something stirred within him as he realized you were watching, an urge to push himself further, to impress you with his skill on the ice. Despite the logical part of his brain dismissing it as somewhat silly, he quite liked when you looked at him.
Each next move was executed with a precision that showed years of disciplined training, but there was an added flair- a desire to showcase his abilities in a way that went beyond the standard routine.
As he landed his triple lutz, Minho couldn't help but steal a glance in your direction. The sparkle in your eyes fueled a newfound motivation within him. The ice beneath him almost began to melt, just like how yours did when he watched you for the first time with all that awe.
Minho finished the routine, his eyes blinking up at you from across the rink. There was a brief pause, a moment of anticipation where he almost expected you to say something. But he had given you no reason to believe he ever  wanted you to interrupt the silence he loved on the ice so much.
So you stayed quiet, a bitten lip adding a touch of intrigue to your expression, a detail he wished he could've seen up close.
He wondered what thoughts hid behind your eyes as you watched him, what you wanted to say, if there was anything more behind the quiet gaze you directed his way.
The cold air seemed to linger with a different energy as he skated towards you when you headed to the exit.
He watched in silence as you slipped off your skates and started to tie the laces of your trainers instead.
This was his chance, surely.
Just ask.
He was quickly putting on his guards when he had stayed quiet for too long, prompting you to disregard his gaze with a content sigh and head out of the hall with your belongings.
Minho followed behind you, his fingers nervously pulling at the seems of his jacket as he took in a deep breath.
"Y/n," he called.
You looked over your shoulder at him with a curious expression.
"Would you like me to take you?"
The man waited for your response with subtle anticipation, shuffling from skate to skate with an antsy energy. His simple question held a whole lot of meaning that he hoped wasn't lost on you. He hoped you knew how much of a step for him this was.
Somehow, no immediate response was worse than you just rejecting him.
"I can drive," he looked down, watching how the tips of your trainers got closer as you closed the distance between the two of you. "It's no trouble."
The prospect of offering you a ride held a significance deeper than the practicalities. He was opening up to you, or trying, atleast.
You laughed, the sound breaking the tension in the air, and Minho flashed you a fleetingly nervous smile. He couldn't help but wonder what was so amusing.
"I'd like that," you finally responded, a playful glint in your eyes.
He let out a breath, the burden of rejection lifting off of his shoulders as he straightened his posture with a newfound confidence.
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You were like a candle flame, gently melting the frozen enclosure he cased himself in. Minho followed behind you, your magnetism pulling him close while you browsed the aisles of the sports shop. The quiet hum of the fluorescent lights and the crisp scent of new sports equipment surrounded the two of you.
"Which do you think?" You smiled, holding up one made of hard plastic and one that was so fluffy he didn't think he could make out where it started and ended.
"Do you need soakers or guards?"
"Guards," you sighed, placing the soaker back down into its pile of soft companions.
As you examined various different types, Minho couldn't help but find a certain comfort in the simplicity of the moment. He discovered a newfound appreciation for your flickering flame that had begun to melt the ice around his shielded heart.
His lips pulled into a downturned smile, picking it straight back up as soon as you moved on to the next miriad of brands and colours to look at.
"There's too many to choose from!"
"What were your old ones like?" He inquired, hiding the white fluffy fabric blade jacket behind his back.
"My old ones were boring."
He hummed with a nod, watching your fingers trace over the different shapes and sizes.
"They were grey, like yours."
"Mine are boring?" Minho raised his eyebrows, a teasing lilt to his tone that spurred you to look up.
"No, they suit you," you quickly added.
He laughed, actually laughed, and the genuine sound caught you off guard. It was pretty, and it made you blush.
You swiftly looked away, focusing so intently on the array of guards like they suddenly held the secrets of the universe. Swapping the white one you held for a baby blue pair, you held it up and pursed your lips.
"I'm gonna get these."
He gently took them from your hand.
"Go look at the skates, I'll pay."
You opened your mouth as if to argue, but he had already started the walk back to the tills before you could even say anything.
As you wandered over to the skates, a subtle warmth settled in your stomach. You could tell that Minho expressed his appreciation through acts of service, showed his feelings through actions instead of vocalising them.
You browsed through the different pairs, admiring the long blades and the pretty details engrained into the leather.
Your skates were white, and Minho's were black.
Binary opposites.
You heard his footsteps behind you quicker than you thought, and softly swivelled to find him holding the small bag with an equally small smile. Despite the differences, there was an undeniable charm to the fact that you were two seperate poles of a magnet.
Because opposites attract.
"Are you ready to go?" He asked, and you nodded, suddenly overcome with a strange sense of bashfulness as you fell into step with him.
He led you out back to where he had parked, placing the bag down in the backseat before sliding behind the steering wheel. Minho fastened his seatbelt, but didn't start the car, his eyes drifting over to where you twiddled your fingers in the passenger seat.
"What made you want to start skating?"
You looked up at the question that broke the silence.
"I like the cold."
The admission hung in the air, and he waited, his gaze unwavering, inviting you to share more if you felt inclined. A question danced in his mind.
He was cold when you first met, is that what drew you to him?
"What about you?"
Your eyes met and it was like the world outside of his car faded.
He was okay.
He was still going to be okay if he let you in.
So he did.
"My parents used to take me to a frozen lake near our house, and I just fell it love with it."
"How old were you?" You hummed.
"About 3, I didn't know a thing about skating, I just knew I wanted to be there."
As he reminisced, a nostalgic smile pulled at his lips.
"And then we moved to Gimpo."
"What happened in Gimpo?" You asked
"I got my first coach," he smiled, a sad sort of smile that made you want to reach over and take his hand. "She said I had so much potential."
The words lingered, carrying a weight that clearly meant a lot to him. You stayed quiet, a reassuring nod spurring him to continue, and sat peacefully.
"She told me not to bother making friends if I wanted to keep it."
So his coach's advice was what had pushed him into his pursuit of loneliness alongside the pursuit for his gold medal. Your heart ached painfully in your chest.
He thought of all the connections he could've had if he knew that it would be like this, like you.
"You've got one now," you smiled at him, and he nodded.
The journey back to the ice rink was a pleasant one, the gentle sound of soft guitar leaking from his speakers. He offered to turn it off when he realised it was in Korean, but you shook your head.
He told you about his 3 cats back home, his love for pudding and jokbal, despite never having tried either of them- you agreed with a smile when he asked you if you liked them.
You knew his favourite colour was mint, and his favourite flavour of ice cream was strawberry, despite the fact that he really did like mint choc chip and he almost couldn't choose. He didn't really have a favourite artist, but his favourite song was '10 out of 10' by a group called 2pm. He couldn't swim and he was afraid of heights.
You knew his birthday and his mbti and the fact that he kind of wanted to be a policeman when he was growing up, but he loved the ice too much. You knew that he had been recorded in the olympic qualifying lines and it was on an episode of nat geo, and no he wasn't going to show you and he really didn't want you to try and look it up because it was embarrassing.
It was like a switch had been pressed on his heart as soon as you made it out of the olympic halls that made him suddenly want to share things with you, and you quite enjoyed the change.
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Minho looked at you, waiting at the entrance to the rink for him, his eyebrow subtly raised in a silent question about your intentions.
"You've never skated with a partner before, right?" you inquired, breaking the silence with a question that carried the promise of something new.
He paused for a moment, mulling over your words. Skating had always been just Minho, a realm where he could be free, on his own. The prospect of partnering on the ice was unfamiliar territory.
"No, never," he admitted, a mix of curiosity and uncertainty in his tone. He had never thought of navigating the ice in tandem with another.
"Do you want to?" you asked, your question hanging in the crisp air.
You were asking if he wanted to reshape his entire view on the sport.
Make a friend, skate with a friend, the whole thing didn't seem so daunting when he thought about it like that.
But some sort of truth lingered below the surface, that's not what this was.
Minho hesitated, his gaze flickering from you to the rink. The prospect of stepping into the realm of pairs skating was both alluring and challenging.
After a moment, he nodded, and you took his hand so casually that he wouldn't have even noticed if the touch alone didn't send warmth through his limbs.
Skating with a friend shouldn't make his heart beat this fast.
A simple friendship was not what had bloomed in the middle of all of this, and it was even worse than what he was afraid of in the very beginning when he first heard your voice.
"Do you trust me?" you asked, the question hanging in the air between you as you pulled him along, effortlessly falling into pace with eachother.
Minho looked down at his skates for a moment, contemplating the implications of your inquiry. He had never done this before. Any of it.
He had never changed his routine for anyone, never let anyone in as much as he let you in, and he had certainly never started spending double the amount of money on drinks in the morning just to see you smile.
When he met your eyes again, he didn't have to say a thing to confirm it, but he did anyway.
"I do."
As you both continued to glide together, you let go of his hand and a small pout fell upon his lips, making you giggle. His arm was still outstretched, as if he was chasing the connection from before. With a graceful ease, you gently raised your leg in the air and Minho's surprise was evident as he watched the fluidity of your movements.
When you told him to take your ankle, there was a moment of hesitation in his expression. He took it anyway, the warmth of your nude tights meeting his cold hand, and as he supported your body- he felt you moving back, closer to him.
The man panicked with a bated breath, no choice but to slide his palm further up your leg. He swallowed that lump down again as his hand rested underneath your thigh, holding you almost against him and yet you still glided closer.
The two of you were losing momentum now, and Minho didn't know what else to do, the natural current of the move you were trying to execute with him spurred his hands to grip your waist and pull you to his chest.
So that's what he did.
He swore you must've been able to feel his heart threatening to bang right out of his ribcage- aching to be close to yours.
With you both standing upright, you could continue skating, and yet his hand didn't leave the small of your back.
Minho observed the light wind catching your hair as you both pushed along, and in that moment, he couldn't help but be captivated. The ice held a certain magic when you were on it with him like this. The strands of your hair danced behind you, catching over your ear and shoulder.
His fingers gently moved up to free your hair, tucking it away behind you so it wasn't caught.
Beautiful.
You looked across at him, a spark of spontaneity prompting you to put your hands on his shoulders to ease the two of you into a slow spin, the crisp air around you crackling with tension.
Your eyes fell to Minho's lips, the magnetic pull between you both drawing you closer, slowly, gradually, almost touching. The world around you seemed to blur.
Just as a tender moment was about to unfold, someone pushed through the door to the rink, clanging and making noise, shattering the fragile bubble of intimacy. The intrusion was abrupt, and the spell of the shared spin dissipated in an instant.
As the noise from the cleaner echoed in the rink, you both pulled away, a silent understanding between you that whatever that was had passed.
"You're not supposed to be in here this late," the man called out, "the rink shuts at midnight!"
Minho frowned, a quiet disdain for the man present on his features as he stepped off of the ice and collected his belongings.
He knew that.
He didn't know that so much time had passed already, he swore he only got here at 11pm.
"Sorry," you smiled to the cleaner, "we didn't realise it was that late."
Minho nodded, a quick bow to show his apologies before he was following you out of the same door that had interrupted everything.
Now he was just left with the feel of butterflies dancing around in his stomach with no way out.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" You cocked your head slightly to the left, avoiding his eyes with a bashful smile.
"Yeah."
He didn't see you the next morning, and Minho's first thought was that you had sustained another minor injury. An instant surge of concern propelled him to the canteen as soon as he could to confirm it with your friends. However, to his surprise, you were there, seemingly unharmed. An unexplored emotion rushed through his heart- why wouldn't you tell him you weren't going to be there?
The air around him felt heavy with a mixture of concern and an unexpected tinge of jealousy that he struggled to comprehend. Should he go over? Ask you?
Or just sit alone again, or go back to his dorm and deal with his unstocked fridge?
He didn't have to wonder for long, because you beckoned him over as soon as you noticed him stood amidst the moving people, frozen in uncertainty. Your smile was bright, and all the negativity that clouded his thoughts for a second was washed away in favour of those familiar fluttery butterflies again.
Your friends turned to look at him, and he swallowed down that lump, taking in a breath and heading over to where you were.
"Min, I'm sorry it was my coach, she-"
Min.
His thoughts blanked and he didn't even hear the rest of what you were saying, just settling into the space next to you that you tapped as that nickname you'd just given him fogged his brain.
"It's okay," he smiled politely and small, once he'd registered that everyone on the table was looking to him for his response.
"I am sorry, I should really get your number or something, huh?" You pursed your lips into a guilty grin.
His number, right, yes.
He nodded, his eyes struggling to stay on yours.
"Sorry, um.. these are my friends," you tossed your wrist out to the rest of the table.
He waved awkwardly to them as they introduced themselves, Felix and Joshua, two more figure skaters from Australia and America, Yuqi, a Chinese skater too, and Chris- an ice hockey player self dubbed Australia's best left winger.
Minho felt a wave of unease pour over him again, the second he'd gotten used to being in your company he was thrown into the deep end with 4 new people. He nodded and smiled as they spoke, quickly pulling eachother back into whatever they were talking about before he arrived. They did try to involve him, one of them occasionally would ask him a question or ask him to weigh in on the subject, but he only gave short answers.
He kept taking subtle glances at you beside him, searching for that connection to keep him grounded.
You squeezed his hand under the table, a reassuring gesture that instantly soothed his nerves. He quickly looked down at the unexpected contact before fixing his gaze back on you, a genuine smile graced his lips again, and you intertwined your fingers with his.
Mingling with your friends wasn't that daunting really, he just wasn't used to it.
He quite liked them, actually, and as he started to feel confident enough to say more than a few words every few minutes, he started to feel at ease on your table.
Minho's thumb brushed back and forth over the back of your palm, the teasing smile he sent your way after he started to see that blush on your cheeks added a touch of playfulness to the moment. If anyone else at the table noticed, they didn't say anything.
He started to sit with the 5 of you from then on. No longer did he seek out an empty table, he would come and sit next to you, seamlessly integrating with you all like he had been there from the beginning. Secretly holding your hand under the table became an added bonus that he very much looked forward to.
You exchanged numbers too, and oftentimes he found himself texting you as soon as he got back into his dorm, finding out more about your life, your tastes and favourite things just like you had done to him. The days until the competition dwindled down into the single digits, and the solitude that both you and him shared in the ice during early mornings and late at night became scarce.
Now everyone was on the ice, at all hours of the day, and it set him on edge.
In the middle of the warm down stretches that were part of his nightly routine, his phone buzzed with a notification for him to meet you by the doors of the rink in 5 minutes.
It was already 11 at night, he really should get some sleep- he'd be performing for his entire career in 30 hours, 58 minutes and 25 seconds.
24 seconds..
23 seconds..
Minho slipped on his shoes and a coat, and twisted the lock on his dorm door as he started the cold walk to the rink.
You were there before him, and shot him a small wave and a nervous smile when he stood in front of you.
"Sorry," you breathed in, the look of his fluffy just-showered bangs covering his eyes making him look double the amount of endearing to you as usual.
"Why?"
"Well I.. wanted to see you, properly, but you're clearly ready to sleep."
A smile pulled on Minho's cheeks at your bashful shrug, he had long since stopped trying to hide them around you.
"I don't mind," he spoke gently, the warm air materializing in front of him due to the cold. "I wanted to see you too."
"You did?"
"Of course," he almost scoffed.
You giggled, folding your arms around yourself as you stepped closer to the man.
"What?" He asked, blinking down at you.
"Nothing."
"What's funny?"
"You are, Min."
Min. There it was again.
He smiled, a bashful expression forming on his face as he cleared his throat, looking away momentarily. The redness of his ears almost seemed to shine through his messy hair. He took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, and led you towards the exit.
As you walked together, he pulled out his keys and unlocked his car. The invitation didn't hang in the air, because without a second thought you got into the passenger seat.
The quiet intimacy of the moment spoke volumes, but it always had, hadn't it? Just like every other time when you would accept his silence.
He took the driver's seat and the engine hummed to life, as the car pulled away, the world outside seemed to blur into a palette of city lights you could barely focus on.
Sharing silence with Minho had never felt uncomfortable; instead, it was peaceful and calm, as if this is how it was always meant to be. The gentle hum of the car and the soft sound of the tires against the empty roads accompanied the short journey. You took in the view ahead with a gasp as the car pulled up to the top of a hill, the lights twinkling back at you like a miriad of stars.
Minho's deep brown eyes met yours, and a shared appreciation for the beauty in front of you lingered. Though neither of you seemed too occupied with the view of the city.
His fingers tapped against the steering wheel nervously, his other hand leaning on the armrest between your seats.
"This will all be over in just 2 days," he whispered, his adams apple bobbing up and down and you just knew he was trying to get rid of a lump.
"You're not coming back?"
"I am.. are you?"
"Yeah, so don't say things like that."
He nodded with a guilty smile, looking back outside.
"I never thanked you."
Minho furrowed his brows at your words, a hint of confusion flashing across his face as he examined yours for a hint as to what you were going to say next. What could you possibly need to thank him for? In his eyes, you've done more for him than you could ever imagine.
"1 month and 2 days worth of hot chocolates, that's £108, I checked," you started, "and the guards and the soakers, that's atleast £130."
"You did thank me for all of those," he shrugged- like the notion that he had spent that much money on you wasn't anything to draw attention to.
"Min.."
"I think I like it when you call me that," he said, his eyes falling down to the shape that your lips made when they said the nickname you'd given him.
"Min?"
"Yeah, Min."
You laughed and turned in your seat to face him properly. "I think I like you."
He stared up, searching your eyes for any hint of insincerity in your words. The smile faded from his lips into more of a confusion riddled expression, like he couldn't believe you'd ever say those words to him- and you let your head fall with a laugh.
As you looked down at your hands in your lap, Minho's confusion only deepened.
"I like how quiet you are, and I like how much you love to be alone."
He wanted to comment on how that had changed, how you had changed that, but he didn't dare interrupt.
"I like how much you love your cats, and all the pictures you send me," you smiled to yourself, "and I like how you'd rather show instead of tell me how you feel."
You weren't just a small flame, you were his entire sun, and he couldn't believe that you felt like this over someone like him. His breathing stuttered when you looked up again, gradually pulling towards him as you spoke.
"I like skating with you, and I like the tingly feeling I get when I'm around you."
So you did feel it too, the butterflies.
"I like holding your hand under the table, and I like it when your ears go red every time."
He could barely keep his eyes open for more than a second, his face flushed as you grinned.
"And.. I think it's really adorable when you blink so fast," you whispered, just centimetres away from his lips.
He laughed nervously, the sound quietly vibrating between the two of you in the confined space of the car. He looked down, to the side, anywhere away from your eyes because he thought he'd overload with emotion if he did.
He wanted to vocalize how intense this all was, how intense his feelings for you were, but the words seemed to escape him. The weight of emotion didn't sit heavy in his chest like it always had before, ready for him to ignore and shove further down, it danced around his limbs and bloomed in his stomach, making it difficult for him to even sit still.
The uncharted territory of expressing his feelings so boldly, the fact that he even had these consuming feelings, left him momentarily speechless. He took a deep breath and attempted to steady the racing beat of his heart.
"I think.." he started, his voice a quiet whisper, anticipation hanging in the air. "I want to kiss you."
"Then kiss me."
He glanced up then, ironically, because the shared gaze was brief when the two of you finally drifted together, eyes fluttering down as he gently held your cheek- pressing his lips on yours.
It was small, and sweet, and he shyly looked down afterwards.
"That's it?" You asked teasingly, pressing one more peck on his lips to chase it down.
"No."
Show not tell.
That had always been how he navigated his emotions, and he planned to show you exactly how he felt, how much he felt- kissing you like you were his oxygen, like he couldn't live without it, without you.
He pushed forward, his other hand leaving the console in favour of leaning against the headrest of your chair- forcing you backwards. He couldn't be bold with his words, but he could definitely kiss you with the confidence of someone that could.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, threading your fingers through his fluffy hair and Minho felt all giddy inside.
He smiled when you let his tongue in, and a long groan resonated pulled through his throat when your hands fell to his neck, pulling his shoulders, feeling his chest.
You moved away to catch your breath, immediately burying your head in his hair.
"Better?" He laughed, almost out of air- leaning over your body.
The man felt you nod, and he hummed softly, the hand holding your head moving to the edge of the window to hold himself up.
He cleared his throat quietly after a minute or two, "are you okay?"
You giggled, moving away to hold his arm, "why wouldn't I be okay?"
"Well, I just- this is an uncomfortable position and I didn't want to move if you weren't okay.."
"Sit down if you're uncomfortable," you furrowed your brows.
He did, with a pout, but he did.
"I wanted to keep kissing you, so I stayed."
With a click of a seatbelt, you shrugged it off your shoulders, moving over to slide into his lap. You hadn't accounted for the presence of the steering wheel that now dug into your back, disrupting the progression of the moment. A wince and a giggle escaped your lips, and Minho's expression was stuck between minor concern and trying not to smile.
Your looked up to meet his eyes again, and shared laughter echoed throughout the car.
He attempted to adjust the steering wheel first to provide more space, leaning forward and accidentally pushing you further against it. You let out a quiet yelp and he gave up immediately. After a few blank seconds, it was like a lightbulb sparked above his head and he leant sideways this time to pull the lever beside his chair.
Then, he attempted to kick the seat back, but it went too far, and he had to spend a second adjusting it properly, nervous giggles leaking from his throat as he chewed the inside of his cheek in concentration.
The awkwardness of what should've been something intimate and personal just made the moment more special. It may not have been the perfect scripted scene, but the journey to getting where you were right now hadn't been perfect either, and that was what made it uniquely yours.
You smiled and he smiled when the seat found it's rightful place, staring into eachothers eyes for a second before he gently ushered your head forward, his lips coming into contact with your neck.
His fluffy hair tickled your face, but it wasn't nearly enough of a distraction for the feeling of his tongue and teeth gently sucking on your skin.
Everytime you let out a quiet noise of content when he would find a particularly sensitive spot he felt lighter, like he could soon float away and just live up in the clouds where his head seemed to be when he was thinking about you.
"You can't leave any marks or the judges might dock my points."
You pulled back, and he chased your skin slightly, his plush lips falling into a natural pout as he looked up at you like a neglected puppy. Anyone would've thought you'd taken away his favourite chew toy.
A giggle left your mouth and you just rested the side of your head under his chin, listening to the his heart jump into your ear- syncing with the rythm of your own.
The city lights that twinkled outside casted a soft glow inside the darkness of his car, the only sound being the shared breaths and the soft thump of heartbeats. The tranquility was grounding- it's gentle waves washed over the anxiety that had been surfacing within the past few days, the pressure of your coach and the competition and the judges and the audience almost spilling throughout your system.
But Minho took it all away.
Each of his breaths lifted you up and down soothingly, and you could've seen yourself drifting off cuddling with him like this. Your eyelids were getting heavy, and his hands playing with your hair wasn't helping.
"I'd stay like this forever," he whispered, pursing his lips when he pierced the quiet. "But I do have to drive us back."
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The two of you didn't see eachother the next day, the last day, busy schedules overruling everything because of the proximity to the biggest performance of your shared careers. Dress rehearsals on the ice and final critics of routines consumed the entire day, but it didn't stop the texting whenever a second of freedom was granted.
You shared complaints and anxious thoughts with him, and he comforted you- carefully concealing the part where he was also feeling more nervous than he had in his entire life in the last few hours of practice he had.
As he took to the ice, Minho couldn't shake the feeling that he could've done more though he executed the spins and glides perfectly. They were perfect, like always, perfect, controlled, precise, but he didn't know what was wrong. It all left a nagging awareness that tugged at the edges of his composure.
Something wasn't perfect.
That gold medal was his, he was sure of it, he couldn't have been more sure of it. Confidence shone through every perfectly executed movement on the ice. He was skating better than he had ever skated in his life. His routine was a masterpiece, meticulously composed of his best moves and most impressive jumps. The improvement he had undergone in the span of a few months since first stepping into this rink was staggering.
Something clung to him, the thought that his anxiety might be because of you.
That's what you had admitted to him over text, you'd just thrown a passing comment out into the world that maybe you were only so nervous because he wasn't there. That you didn't get to hold his hand today, or hug or kiss him, or even see him before you'd be in front of a panel of stern judges.
He'd accepted that too, he definitely knew that he would feel uneasy.
So why was something still nagging at him?
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Your coach had decided to put you in a blue dress that hugged your figure, adorned with tassels that swirled around you beautifully. The vibrant color and elegant design had Minho entranced even before you stepped onto the ice. The not so subtle distraction that it would feel nice under his palms lingered in his mind as he watched you.
If he could skate onto that ice right now just to kiss you, tell you how gorgeous you looked in that dress, how the sight took his breath away- and would not be leaving his mind at night, he would.
He'd tell you how good it made your legs look, how it highlighted all the parts of you that he longed to see without the costume.
Fuck that, he'd show you, with his hands and his mouth on yours.
But not right now.
Right now his eyes twinkled like the chipped ice on the metal of his skates as he watched you glide into the middle of the rink like you were floating. The crisp air carried the rhythmic cut of blades on ice to his ears, but his attention was fixed solely on you. Your movements were graceful, and captured every part of him, mind, body, and soul- you had it all. His heart skipped a beat as you spun and twirled and he swore that you were the vision of elegance and freedom.
Stuck at the edge of the rink, he was mesmerized by your skill and beauty. It was as if time stood still, and the world faded away, leaving only the enchanting spectacle before him. The rest of the rink looked colder than usual but the ice underneath your skates looked like it was melting from the warmth of your smile alone.
You finished your routine by heading into a triple axel, his triple axel, the climax of your performance. He held his breath with the audience as you launched into the intricate spin, the ice beneath you transforming into a stage for your artistry.
You landed it well, perfectly even, and he let out that breath he was holding, a smile of relief pulling at his lips.
His coach snapped his fingers for his attention, garnering the turn of his head to look. "Are you ready?"
He nodded, "I am."
"I've never seen you smile at someone else's performance."
Minho blinked rapidly, his ears tinting with a little blush. He was that obvious that even his coach could see.
"It's good to see you coming out of your shell."
"Yeah," he hummed, letting his coach quickly fix his collar. "It is."
He wasn't just coming out of his shell, he was falling in love.
But Minho put his thoughts aside and focused only on what his heart was telling him, stepping onto the ice with a newfound vigour, inspired by the success of your performance. Pride welled up in him as he dived straight into his carefully constructed routine perfectly, not just because of his technical ability but for the emotional resonance that now fueled it.
He had always valued control, but he couldn't control your routine, and he hypothsised that that had been the source of his anxiety. Now, as he glided on the ice, he felt a sense of liberation. The weight of everything filled him, making the experience cathartic. He was no longer a machine skating just for the sake of being alone, now, there was a new sense of artistry to his routine, a different passion thawing through his veins that he hadn't had before.
The ice beneath his skates became a canvas for a different kind of performance, one that was more than just how well he could stick the landing. Minho's movements carried the echoes of newfound connection, and as he embraced the artistic freedom, he realized that you had not threatened his control, you never had. Instead, you had brought his skating to a level where passion and precision coexisted together to create something as beautiful as what bloomed between the two of you.
Passion and precision; two sides of the same coin.
Black and white; binary opposites.
Call it what you wanted, he was truly falling more and more in love with you with every second.
He felt the very last drops of his icy shell melting away when he beamed up at the audience and the judges as he glided past, too fast to find your eyes from wherever you were- but he could feel them.
His performance, his masterpiece, was unfolding perfectly, the wind blew into his hair and the frost bit his cheeks- just how he liked it. Everything was falling into place, all of it, his whole life.
You'd told him that this had all accumulated about 490 hours of skating together from all those early mornings and late nights- you'd worked it out. 490 hours he spent here in this rink with just you, not even counting the rest of the hours where you weren't alone with him.
Hours and days and months of work, his whole life, really. It was all playing out perfectly.
He'd have a gold medal soon, and he'd get himself a girlfriend straight after.
He thought about it while he jumped and glided and twirled, extending his limps into a passionate dance. Thought about asking you out, you saying yes, kissing you again, finally, driving you back up to that spot- hitting that spot inside of you as he made love to you in his backseat, fogging up the windows until you couldn't even see the city lights anymore.
Show not tell, as always.
And he'd show you forever, make love to you forever, as long as you let him, show you how grateful he was that you pushed past that cold exterior and singlehandedly thawed it all away with just the warmth that you carried.
He'd hold your hand and flaunt it to all your friends instead of leaving your intertwined fingers under the table. He'd flaunt it to the whole world if he could, hold it up along with his medal, both equally important.
Minho from 3 months ago would scoff at the notion of anything coming close in significance to his medal, but things change, and change isn't always bad.
What didn't change was the quality of his performance like he'd thought it would.
Minho from 3 months ago knew that technicalities were going to win him his titles. How many turns, how many rotations could he do in the air, could he do it 6 times in one program? He'd be the best skater if he could.
He was almost stiff then.
He kept going, move after move, 3T, 1Eu, 3S, 1Eu, 3S, 1A, and then a hydroplane.
He liked the hydroplane, he put it in all his performances because he just liked the way it looked. It was like his signature, the full side of his head touching the ice as he glided along, it was more artistic than technical like the rest of his moves.
He'd accidentally cut his skin more times than he could imagine perfecting it, and it was ironic, because he didn't value the artistry in the sport before. He valued what the judges would like.
That's what his passion lied in, harbouring his potential, like he had been taught by his very first coach.
Don't make friends, you don't need friends.
If you needed friends it would be the judges.
To make friends with the judges you need to impress them.
Impress them by proving how much better you are, how many more turns you could do, how well you could stick it.
Don't feel it, that's nonsense.
Think it.
Calculate it.
Work it out.
But now as he finished the best routine of his life, he felt it, it was his heart that was guiding him, not his logic or his mind or any calculations.
It was you.
He found you in the audience then, you were beaming across at him- and he was beaming right back, holding that final position to cement the legacy that he was creating for himself.
It will always be you.
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A/N: I HOPE IT ISNT TOO OBVIOUS THAT I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT FIGURE SJATING
also I have literally never fully written a slow burn in my entire life cause I feel like I can never make it very slow so I'm sorry if this is too fast paced LMAO
Taglist: @linos-kitten @agi-ppangx @milf-ivy
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honeykaes · 6 months
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three rounds
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boxer!wriothesley x reader II 3.0k
warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, boxer! au, modern au, blood, fighting (boxing), rough sex, wriothesley picks reader up, standing full nelson, semi-public sex, creamipes, fingering, overstimulation, dacryphilia, dumbification, childhood friends to lover, secret dating, mention of the criminal justice system, implied family abandonment, unedited
synopsis: you and wriothesley had been best friends for ages. you were there when he broke ties with his rich family, when he failed the police academy and now in his success in the boxing ring. this will be the match to decide if he earns the belt and he wants his cheerleader, whom he's secretly dating, to be there in the front seat to witness it.
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The glare from the bright white spotlights made you squint and lift your hand up. Black spots littered your vision as you adjusted and stared down at the ring in front of you. Crowds surrounded the entire ring, cheering and yelping in delight excited for the match getting ready to begin.
This was the final match to determine who received the golden belt any professional boxer in England clawed their way to attain. To get it, they would have to rip it out of the claws of the previous boxing champion, Attainer. This would be no easy feat, but you knew that would not stop him from achieving his goal.
“Now we have the underdog, quite literally! Can we get some noise for the newbie with attitude Wriothesley!” the announcer yelled out from the speakers. As soon as he was introduced, the crowd’s noise grew louder, admiring the man coming out. His short black hair was as scruffy as ever, adorned with streaks of gray he insisted wasn’t from age. His eyes, piercing icy blue, looked to the crowd in determination as he lifted his arm up waving to them and a lopsided smirk.
He was extremely muscular wearing his scars littering throughout his chest, neck, and face with pride. As he slung under the ropes of the rings, he gazed at the crowd once more as they cheered—eyes scanning for someone until they settled on their own. His eyes softened and his smirk grew, winking over to you as your heart fluttered.
“Oh my god! He actually noticed me! This is the best day ever!” a girl cheered behind you. You chuckled to yourself fighting the urge to turn around and spoil her fun. No one in the ring would know that look was for you, and you alone.  
You and Wriothesley have been together for a few years now. You were there when he was at rock bottom and you would be there when he finally took the heavens or himself.
“Round one! Fight!”
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You knocked on the shabby door, hearing banging from the other side as your heart pumped in your chest in anxiety. Wriothesley had been avoiding your calls all day since he got out of prison and was under probation. 
“Wriothesley! Open the door!” you yelled out. No response came except for the constant sound of smacking. Your hand grabbed on the handle turning it only for the door to crack open. A yelp escaped your lips watching a cockroach scutter across the floor into the hallway from the hallway. Cursing silently to yourself and surprised Wriothesley still didn’t say anything, you closed the door looking over to see the barren studio apartment.
There was hardly anything in the tiny space beside a mattress that was directly on the floor with some blankets thrown across it, a large bean bag chair to the side, and a large punching bag swinging in the middle of the room. The sound of smacking echoed out once more as Wriothesley continued to punch it, still not facing you.
Earbuds were placed in his ears, your sounds must've been drowned out by how loud he was playing his music. You slowly approached him, calling out his name once more as he continued to ignore you. With a sigh, you placed your hand on his back. He immediately tensed up and he turned around. 
He scowled over to you, frowning prominent on his lips. Bags were under his eye, a fresh cut seemed to linger there too. He must’ve got it before getting out of prison. Your eyes softened in pity and Wriothesley took his earbuds out and sighed.
“Are you okay? You’ve been ignoring me for days since you got out,” you murmured. Wriothesley grumbled under his breath and sighed, wiping the sweat clinging to his brow. He must’ve been exercising for a while now.
“I’m fine. You don’t need to always check on me like you did when we were kids. I’m not the little rich kid trying to understand public school anymore…” Wriothesley muttered. You clinged your tongue, rolling your eyes at his response.
“Yeah, you’re not, which is why I don’t know why you are acting like a kid and avoiding me. We're friends. You got arrested and kicked out of the police academy, of course I want to check in with you and make sure you’re okay. Shit sucks, understatement of the year, but I want to help you through this,” you replied. He doesn’t respond and looks away, eyes narrowing in shame. Your eyes flickered down to his ankle bracelet, blinking. It will be six months before it’ll come off and he'll be free from it.
“Please can you just…” you sighed, “You don’t need to carry all of this by yourself. I’m not going to abandon you no matter how many times you try to push me out. We are in this together. I promised that to you before and I mean it now.”
Wriothesley remained quiet walking over to his mattress before collapsing on him, the springs creaking loudly as they adjusted to the new weight. 
“Frankly, I’m not sure why you seem so adamant about staying beside me. Why? Do you got a crush on me or something,” Wriothesley murmured, covering his eyes with his hand. There was a pause as you struggled to say anything and simply looked away. Noticing you not saying anything, Wriothesley uncovered his face looking over at you in shock before it softened. A chuckle soon rattled throughout the tiny studio apartment.
“Ah, I guess that explains it then, huh?” he murmured, looking over to his hand covered in sports tape. He flexed his fingers, pondering the words he wanted to say to you as butterflies flew throughout your stomach. Was he going to send you out? Was he going to pretend you didn't say anything?
“...I don’t regret going to jail for what I did. I know what I did wasn’t wrong but naturally bastards with more money than me can get away with it and paint me as the villain to absolve them from their crimes,” he murmured getting up in front of you.
“I’m not going to let that stop me though,” he murmured. The pitter-patter of the rain outside hit the window as Wriothesley chuckled once more.
“London is like this, gloomy, gray with pricks who take advantage of the disadvantaged. This city eats up anyone they can. I don’t plan on being part of the menu. Something good will come out of all this shit…” he murmured. His fingers lifted your chin and a soft smile curled on his once serious expression.
“Besides, I think things are shaping up positively in some ways already. Wouldn’t you agree?”
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Once his probation period ended, Wriothesley went to the gym often to clear his mind when he wasn’t working at his part-time contracting job. He wanted to join an amateur boxing ring, only for his skills to gain the attention of recruiters looking for more talent in the professional ring.
Signing on to a team and management, Wriothesley quickly flew through opponents. The crowd had deemed him as “Cerberus” for his scruffy yet handsome appearance along with his famous three-punch combo. 
It had been three years since you two started this journey and this match would show if it was worth it. 
“Ooh! The Attainer got a left hook to connect the frazzling crowd favorite! Can the doggie get out of this or will the beat finally get tamed!”
You snapped out of your thoughts, clenching your jaw seeing Wriothesley stagger from that hit. Blood began to dribble from his lip. A flash of anger shot through his eyes as he glowered at Attainer with frustration. As Attainer went for another blow, Wriothesley swiftly dodged to the left. Time for the final round was ticking down quickly, he’d need to make this count if he wanted to win.
Dodging another attack and seeing an opening, Wriothesley quickly rushed his gloved fist forward connecting it to the champion, Attainer. 
“One,” he muttered, drowned out by the deafening noise and muffled from his mouthguard. Seeing the opening swift to try to adjust, Wriothesley refused to let him, connecting another punch in the stomach to his opponent. Attainer gasped, the wind knocked out of him from the blow. 
“Two,” he grunted, dodging another desperate blow from Attainer. With one more opening he saw, Wriothesley went in again connecting his final blow to Attainer’s face.
“Three!” he grunted. Attainer staggered, body fumbling to the ground as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. The referee sprung from outside the ring, smacking his hand down to the side of the opponent, counting those three numbers. Wriothesley stood to the side, chest gleaming in the stage light from his sweat as the crowd cheered in bewilderment and excitement. 
“TKO!!”
Roars of cheers echoed throughout the stadium. You couldn’t stop grinning, joining in the celebration as Wriothseley lifted his arm up signaling his victory against the champion. Flashes of light flickered off as press and camera from fans, sports journalists, and anyone wanting to gobble every opportunity and second, they could to get this shot. His eyes wandered to yours, smiling wide as you gave a small wave back.
As a camera quickly came into the ring, a microphone shoved in his face to conduct the first interview of the new champion, you slowly got up from your seat and the chaotic cheers of the stadium and headed to his private quarters in the locker room to wait for him. 
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Thirty minutes went by before the door flew open and slammed shut as he entered. As soon as his eyes met yours, he walked up to you, arms wrapping you in a tight hug. You chuckled, wrapping your arms around Wriothesley’s torso, smelling the sweat wafting from him.
“I told you doll,” Wriothesley smirked, as you chuckled once more.
“You did!” you chimed with a wide smile. Wriothesley leaned in close, lips millimeters away from one another.
“And you know what I want more than anything,” he whispered, capturing your lips. His hands settled against your ass, squeezing the soft globes as you gasped, placing your hands on his. He massaged it, tapping it as he finally let your kiss go—a translucent string of saliva connecting your now glossy lips with his.
“W-What?! What if someone sees us? You built your reputation back up just to risk destroying it with a stupid scandal. ‘New champion has a partner caught fucking in the stadium!’ The press will eat us alive,” you stammered out. Wriothesley chuckled lowly, nibbling your earlobe.
“If they give me shit, who cares? It’s my managers who thought it best to keep our relationship a secret. I should get to celebrate how I see fit. They get their win and I get you, everyone’s happy,” Wriothesley whispered, grinding his hardening cock against your leg. You sighed at his response.
“What am I going to do with you,” you muttered. You gasped as Wriothesley smacked his palm down on your ass —the sting of dull pain shooting through your body.
“Fuck me, that’s what.”
Wriothesley brought his lips down to yours once more, the adrenaline from the match still coursing through his veins. He takes his shorts off, heavy cock popping up and rolling against his chiseled abdomen. It lulled to the side against his black happy trail, flushed tip already budding with precum as veins pulsated throughout the thick flesh.
You lowered yourself on your knees, grabbing onto his length as he sucked a sharp breath in. You smeared the precum, finger playing with his sensitive tip. You pumped a few times before opening your mouth and taking him into your mouth. The familiar salty taste of sweat and precum hit your tongue as you bobbed your head.
“Aww, giving me a little reward? You shouldn’t have,” he teased, grabbing a fistful of your hair. Your tongue swirling along the tip, sucking hard as Wriothesley’s body shuttered and hips slightly faltered. His nails dug into his thick thighs, trying to contain himself as you continued to suck and swirl against him.
“That’s it. Open up a little wider for me lovely,” he murmured, using his other hand to tap at your throat. He used the grip he had on your hair to sink you further down his cock. You fought the urge to gag, but he had trained your throat to fight against the feeling. You soon completely had his entire length down your throat, nose brushing against the thick hair of his bush.
He pulled them away, as an audible pop echoed throughout the small room while you caught your breath. Drool leaked from the side of your mouth, eyes watching as Wriosthelsey continued to jerk at his cock. It twitched in his grasp.
“Open your mouth for me like the good doll you are,” he murmured. You obeyed, opening your mouth wide as a low groan ripped from his lips, tip hovering over it. Globs of cum shot from him, falling on your tongue as you resisted the urge to spit or swallow. His hips shuttered, bucking a few times before he finally began to soften and leaned over wiping some that managed to spill out on the corner of your lips.
“Swallow for me…” he cooed. His smirk widened watching your throat bobbed as you did, trying not to shiver from the taste. 
“So good for me. Get up. I think it’s time for the spotlight to be shared,” he murmured as you got on your feet. His hands gripped your bottoms pulling them down and onto the ground, before your underwear went with it. He haggardly popped a few buttons off from your blouse, showing off a bit of your chest to him. You could feel him beginning to grow against your thigh. 
“Wriothesley!” you yelled out, as he lifted you up. His hardening cock slides against your drooling slit, gathering up the slick clinging onto your cunt. He does this growing harder before he’s finally fully erected once more. Wriothesley hooked his forearm against the back of your knees and leaned against the wall before he sank into the warmth of your cunt—roughly plunging inside of you.
You moan in surprise at the position, your body bouncing from his quick thrusts. Objects hung on the wall bang to his pace as the sound of smacking skin reverberated throughout the locker room. 
He finally put one of your legs down, in the process reaching deeper inside of you as your body jolted in pleasure. With his now free hand, he moved his palm striking your needy clit—the shock of the pain and pleasure caused your walls to flutter down on his cock, as he groaned in delight.
“You like that, I felt just how tight you gripped me just now,” he cooed, nibbling against your neck. His fingers continued to toy with your clit, rubbing tight circles and occasionally smacking his fingers down on it. Your body shivered at the simulation he was giving you, cock brushing against the spot that made you see stars.
“Fuck! Wriothesley. There, there! There!” you babbled out, tears beginning to prick your eyes.
He shifted his position and grip on you, turning you around so your back was to the wall and keeping you up with one hand gripping tightly against your ass. Your legs had instinctively wrapped around his waist, allowing him to rut against that spot with more precision. His eyes lingered on your chest, admiring the flash of your pebbled nibble that would greet him with every bounce of your body.
His hand grasped your jaw, his blunt nails digging to the sides of it,
“Gonna cum for me? Yeah?” he murmured, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip as you rapidly nodded, tears beginning to cascade down your face. He grunted, feeling your walls cave in making it harder to continue to buck inside of you.
“Show me how good a champion’s cock is then,” he grunted. With more nodding and babbling of his name, your eyes rolled to the back of your head—body arching as you finally reached your high, shivering in pleasure.
Wriothesley pistoning his hips sloppier, let out a low moan of your name before shutting his eyes and connecting his lips with your own. His hips faltered, ropes of cum spilling inside of you and filled you to the brim with his essence.
Lifting his head up, he chuckled noticing your fucked-out and tired expression moving your body in his arms before placing you down on the couch. He admired your chest slowly rising from your chest, eye makeup messed up and smeared from your tears.
“Sorry, was that too much for you,” he murmured with a smile, leaning down to kiss your forehead. He went over and put his shorts on, tucking his softening cock beneath it. You groaned, lolling your head to the side as Wriothesly approached you again. His cum was beginning to leak down your thighs. He couldn’t stop himself from pumping two fingers into your overly sensitive cunt, pushing his cum back inside of you as you whimpered at the sensation.
“Don’t worry. Just rest here and we can leave afterward for dinner, if you’re still up for it that is,” Wriothesley murmured. A knock on the door caught his attention as he got up and walked over to the door, cracking it so your form was completely hidden by his stature. He scowled, only for his gaze to turn to shock seeing Clorinde, his manager glare at him. She let out a side, crossing her arms.
“Next time you plan on fucking your partner, please do it when I don’t need something in the locker room, that is not ours I’d like to add, and have to wait elsewhere until you’re done to do so. The papers are on the table, I expect to see them on Friday when you show up for our press briefing,” she grumbled before walking away.
Wriothesley chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
“My bad, Clorinde…”
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starglitterz · 6 months
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♡ SPICY. // PART ONE
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❝ ‘cause i’m too spicy for your heart, ring the fire alarm! ❞ // attractive things the genshin men do
✧ feat ; al-haitham, ayato, childe, cyno, diluc, heizou, kaeya, thoma, wriothesley, xiao x gn!reader
✧ warning(s) ; fluff, suggestive, implied kamisato!reader for thoma’s, reader is shorter than ayato for his part, modern au for wriothesley, traveller!reader for xiao’s
✧ a/n ; yeah yeah i’m a slut we all know that already let’s move on 🙄 /lh i was brainrotting sm LOL i hope u guys enjoy! 
part one︱info︱part two
please reblog + leave comments ! it helps a lot w motivation <3
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✦ “are you listening?” AL-HAITHAM’s voice cuts through your messy thoughts and you scramble for your pen to scribble some nonsense and at least pretend you were concentrating. your eyes are glued to the paper in front of you, too embarrassed to meet his gaze after what you were daydreaming about him. without warning, he uses his index finger to tilt your chin up to face him with a curt “pay attention.” his green irises bore into yours, scanning them as if to discover why you haven’t been focusing and the intensity of his gaze makes heat rise to your cheeks. his actions clearly result in the opposite of the desired effect though, because it’s made you ten million times more distracted, too busy thinking about your tutor doing things that certainly aren’t academic.  
✦ there’s definitely something in the way that AYATO leans down to hear you better. it’s a simple gesture, but when he bends down to listen to what you’re saying, it proves that he’s putting in the effort to continue the conversation and is genuinely interested in your chatter. or even if it’s something like leaning against the door frame, a reminder of how idiotically tall he is, it always gets your heart beating quicker and you lose your train of thought. but maybe he isn’t as clueless as you think he is, because the smirk playing about his lips as he admires your flustered expression while you stumble over your words definitely says otherwise. 
✦ sometimes when you see CHILDE’s idiotic smirk, it takes everything in you not to punch it off his face. however, when he’s in the heat of battle, the way his lips curl just so as he lifts an eyebrow at his opponent daringly, almost as if he’s asking them “you really think you can defeat me?” you’d rather punch him with your lips. the sheer confidence he exudes as he fights, the casual manner with which he switches his bow to his hydro polearm, the easy grin dancing about his mouth – it’s incredibly attractive. 
✦ it shouldn’t be a big deal, but whenever CYNO wraps his arms around your waist from behind to pull you into his embrace, you swear your heartbeat accelerates to the speed of light. he’ll rest his chin on your shoulder too, and if he’s feeling mischievous (which is practically all the time), he’ll tilt his head ever so slightly so he’s at the perfect angle to press fleeting kisses against your neck. you can almost feel his smile against your skin as you shiver from the sensation of his warm lips. 
✦ DILUC is not one for grand public displays of affection. you don’t mind, you’re fine with it, but one day another patron at the angel’s share keeps flirting with you, and suddenly you feel the winery owner beside you, one arm snaking around your waist almost possessively. “it’s nice to meet you,” he murmurs to the other man in a tone icy enough to freeze over hell. his fingers tap a steady rhythm against your hips and you feel like his touch is branding you through the layers of fabric. it evidently gets the message across because the poor customer leaves immediately with his tail between his legs, and all DILUC does is squeeze your waist lightly and press a soft kiss on your forehead as a hint of a smug smile curves his lips. 
✦ being a genius detective and also just being really annoying are certainly not mutually exclusive, as HEIZOU continues to prove every single day. case in point; the way he’s proudly walking around the tenryou commission, the array of wine-coloured bruises you left on his neck last night blatantly out for display. the other inazumans who notice look scandalized, while kujou sara seems dangerously close to bursting a blood vessel. “heizou!” you hiss, pulling him into a secluded corner to scold him, “why didn’t you wear a scarf or something?!” the detective merely gives you his trademark grin and winks playfully, “why should i? it’s a mark of your love, i wouldn’t want to hide it~”
✦ one thing’s for certain whenever you talk to KAEYA – he will give you his undivided attention. you love that about him, but sometimes his piercing gaze is almost distracting, the varied shades of sparkling blue a stark contrast to the matte black leather of his eyepatch and often making you veer wildly off-track to whatever you’re telling him about. it only worsens when you catch his stare sometimes drifting to your lips, but he’ll shake his head as if jolting himself out of a reverie before he continues looking at you and nodding like he’s been paying attention this entire time. and if you call him out on it, he’ll just raise both hands in surrender, “sorry, babe, i can’t help it – you just look so kissable when you’re talking!”
✦ THOMA is an absolute softie, always making your favourite foods and spoiling you as the housekeeper of the kamisato clan. it makes sense that you’ve never realised just how strong he actually is. but then you catch a glimpse of him one evening after a long day’s work, and as he lifts up the edge of his shirt to wipe the glistening sweat off his face you think you could collapse. the gesture exposes his toned abdomen, muscles clenching as he lets out a soft groan, and the only coherent thought running through your mind is; why has he been hiding this the entire time?! maybe it’s time for you to switch the kamisato housekeeper uniform to a crop top… 
✦ WRIOTHESLEY is a gentleman who’ll never let you take a cab home alone, especially not after a long night out in the city. but as he’s pulling up to your house, your thoughts are definitely nowhere near appreciating how sweet he is, rather you’re admiring how close his muscled arms are to your face while his hand is on the back of your seat as he turns to check the rear mirror. from the passenger seat, you get the perfect view of his side profile, his chiseled features, the barely visible trace of stubble on his chin, his stormy gray eyes… he’s like the dark male lead of every romance manhwa. and when he catches you looking, he gives you a smile that’s almost teasing, “like what you see, beautiful?” 
✦ even though XIAO is the one who’s supposed to teleport to you whenever you call his name, you can’t help but find yourself gravitating towards him whenever he says yours. it must be how he utters it, softly, lovingly, almost reverent in his gentleness as if you’ll shatter before his eyes if he whispers it even a decibel louder. and sure, he calls you by several petnames (butterfly, dove), but the way your name slips past his lips like a prized jewel will always be your favourite. sometimes it feels as if your name is going to be worn out from how often people use it, begging you to help them with miscellaneous tasks and pushing you to exhaustion. but during those late nights at wangshu inn as you rest in his embrace, he whispers your name as if it’s a secret for just the two of you and the stars and you can’t help but think how lucky you must have been to be born with such a pretty name, created for your adeptus lover to murmur with so much affection lacing his tone. 
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GRR i lowk love this... hope yall do too! don't forget to check out part 2 when it's published as well <3
© starglitterz 2023. do not repost or modify in any way – reblog / follow if you enjoyed !
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rvfecamerons · 6 months
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》 CLOSING TIME — rafe cameron x reader
{ main masterlist }
word count — 2.2k
warnings — MDNI; dark!rafe, posessive/obsessive bf!rafe, bartender!reader, swearing, manipulation, coersion/blackmail almost if u squint maybe, threats of violence (rafe to customers), degradation kinda, no actual smut but smut/oral is implied at the end, lmk if i missed something!!
summary — after a busy day bartending at the country club, you hardly had time to respond to your boyfriend, rafe. he pays you an unwanted visit at work and realizes he doesn’t want his girl tending to the needs of the men at the club…
a/n — so sorry i’ve been so slow at putting things out!!! I PROMISE I’M GETTING TO/HAVE AT LEAST STARTED ALL REQUESTS!! this lil idea was eating at me, fighting this writer’s block for my bigger stories slowly but surely <3 love u guys, as always PLSSSSS comment, reblog & like!! interacting w u guys makes my day :)
It was a warm summer night on the island, and the majority of your shift at the country club was already behind you.
You’d been keeping yourself busy maintaining customers, catching up on refills, taking care of dirty cups, normal bartender activities.
You’d just finished restocking the bar when you caught sight of a familiar figure sauntering up to the bar.
Fuck. You were sure you’d missed a slew of texts and calls from your boyfriend, questioning your whereabouts. But it was a Friday night at the country club, and time often slipped away from you on Fridays.
You’d hardly had a chance to check the clock, let alone your phone for that matter.
All you could do as he approached was offer your boyfriend a sweet smile as you spoke, in hopes he might catch on to your desire to keep things peaceful in your place of work. And he might have…
He just didn’t care. Rafe ignored your comments, skipping right to the reason he dragged himself into the bar in the first place.
“You been ignoring me?”
Your brows knitted together in confusion, eyes quickly scanning the bar to see if anyone had heard Rafe’s…greeting to you.
And naturally, his loud voice had carried to the ears of all the patrons sitting around the counter.
“What?” You whispered, an attempt at keeping any wandering ears out of your business. “I-I’ve been working, Rafe.”
God, you hated when he came around at work. You were always so confident behind the counter, your male customers generosity and kind compliments boosting your ego every shift you worked.
…Until Rafe invaded the scene. You hated how much more soft-spoken you were around him. How much more you stumbled on your words, how… small he could make you feel.
So, of course as soon as you realized who was approaching, you wanted to get rid of him as fast as possible.
“Look, Topper’s here, why don’t you go hit the greens, o-okay? I’ll come find you right after my shift, and-“
He could hardly wait for you to finish the obscure suggestion before snarkily replying, “You think I can trust you here by yourself after you ignored me all day? Yeah, right,” He scoffed, pulling a barstool out before plopping down onto it. “Let me get a beer, babe.”
The smile didn’t leave your face until you spun around on your heels. You had to be sure the mix of disappointment, frustration and embarassment you adopted was no longer in Rafe’s field of view.
Reluctantly, you trotted over to the cooler and grabbed the only brand of beer you knew he’d accept. When you returned, you hoped Rafe had decided to turn things down a notch.
Icy blue eyes seemed to be looking right past you, though. Your eyes followed his line of vision behind you, locating the customer on the other end of Rafe’s death glare.
“That guy was staring at your ass the whole fucking time you bent down,” he seethed, teeth gritted together tightly, causing his jaw to protrude out here and there.
You placed the cold can on the countertop. “Rafe, don’t be ridiculous. I-“
“Hey, buddy?” Oh god.
Your boyfriend waved a large arm out in front of him, his loud voice gathering the attention of most everyone near the bar, including the unfortunate regular you were sure would no longer be one after tonight.
“You like staring at chick’s asses? That’s my fucking girlfriend, have some respect!” You tried to calm him down, to no avail.
“The hell are you talkin’ about, man?”
Rafe raised a brow at the challenge, rising to his feet and pushing his chair back in the process. “I’m talkin’ about the problem we’re gonna have if you look at my girl one more fucking time.”
The man waved Rafe off with a flick of his wrist and a roll of his eyes, turning his attention back to the TV he’d been focused on the whole time.
You turned back to Rafe, who’s chest was now heaving, dark gaze still forced upon the customer. “Rafe, just, please sit back down.” He slowly complied, never taking his eyes off of the man.
“That wasn’t very-“
“Where the fuck did that fucking skirt come from, anyway?” Now his eyes had adverted to your black tennis skirt, one he’d definitely seen you wear before.
“You’ve seen this skirt before,” you reminded him. “It’s better for the summertime.”
Rafe cracked opened the beer and threw back a long swig. “Seems like you just wanted some extra attention. You putting on shows now, too? Hmm?” He pointed the can your direction.
You could feel your face turning hot, cheeks undoubtedly flushed red with embarassment. Again, your eyes darted off to the side to see if any heads had turned. They had.
“I…I’m just trying to be comfortable while I work, Rafe.”
He waved you off, turning his attention to some sports game playing on the flat screen TV high atop the wall of alcohol. You’d take it, no complaints. Rafe ignoring you was better than Rafe berating you, belittling you, embarassing you at your job.
You turned your attention back to your customers, whose looks of pity you couldn’t ignore as you were finally able to tend to their requests again.
The sound of an empty glass hitting the counter led you to a man on the far end, who’d finished what you knew was now his 3rd drink. “Need anything else, sir?”
“I’ll take another one. Thanks, doll.” You paid no mind to the pet name. The man was older, and you were used to terms of endearment from your customers. After all, you were a great bartender, and a generous one, too.
But Rafe, of course, couldn’t ignore the way you smiled at the man after he referred to you in such a sweet way. So sweet, it disgusted the Cameron boy.
He wore that disgust on his face when you approached him again, questioning, “Hmm, back to me now, huh? What? Are you-you done flirting now, I see?”
“What?” You almost laughed, but you couldn’t forget who you were dealing with. “Rafe, I…I just asked him if he wanted anything else.”
“Yeah, you’ve asked him like 10 fucking times.”
“Hey man, why don’t you give the girl a break-“
“Hey man,” Rafe mocked. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up and mind your own business?!”
You rushed to your boyfriend who looked like he was about to jump over the counter and lunge at the man who dared to stick up for you. He must be new here, you thought. He obviously didn’t know the man he’s challenging on your behalf.
And you didn’t want to be responsible for what your boyfriend would undoubtedly do if he kept it up.
Rafe was finishing off his second beer when your manager let you go to break.
You made it outside just in time to spare any co-workers or customers from your tears, because they started falling as soon as you made it through the backdoor.
You had all of two minutes to yourself in the dimly lit alley before heavy footsteps broke up the silence.
“Baby,” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, holding off as long as you could even as Rafe cupped your cheeks with both hands, tilting your head up towards his.
He sighed at your reluctance to meet his gaze. “Y/N/N, baby, look at me.” You didn’t want to, but your lifted your head anyway.
You sniffled as Rafe wore a small pout on his lips. “Aww, baby don’t cry, come here,” Large, muscular arms pulled you into him. You turned your head just in time for your cheek to press into his hard chest, tears streaming down and soaking into his shirt as he shushed you.
“Baby, it’s okay. I know you think you need the attention, just like you think you need this job…” You didn’t like where the conversation was headed, but your brain was just as cloudy as your teary vision.
He pulled away slowly, placing both hands on your biceps. “But I can take care of all of that, baby. You know this. You know I’ll take care of you. Don’t I give you enough attention?”
You met his gaze again, drinking in the serious look he wore now. “I-I wasn’t trying t-to-“
“Don’t-“ You winced at the sudden tightening of Rafe’s fingers around your arms. His eyes fell shut for a moment, heading cocking to the side as he took a deep breath to resteady himself. “Don’t I give you enough attention?” He repeated.
This time, you didn’t try to justify yourself, your outfit. You just nodded your head with another sniffle.
“Good, good girl.” He released one arm, bringing the now free hand up to brush strands of hair from your face, caressing your cheek in the same movements.
“Now, we don’t need this job, do we?” His question was laced with a condescending tone you were all too used to.
You hated how he used the term ‘we’. It seemed nothing could be just you, just Y/N anymore. Everything had to involve Rafe. He had to have a say in anything you did, anywhere you went, anyone you hung out with, and it had to be the final say, at that.
“Rafe…” His name came out a choked whisper, you were barely able to get anything out through the painful lump lodged in your throat.
You didn’t need to, because Rafe was sliding the hand on your cheek around to the back of your head as soon as he noticed you fixing your lips to protest.
Strong fingers weaved through the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging just enough to elicit a sharp gasp from you.
“I said we don’t need this job, do we, Y/N?” You wrapped your hand around his wrist, trying to pry it from your hair to no avail. Only your compliance could losen the tight grip, and you knew it. You both knew it.
By now, he had your back against the brick wall, one arm caging you inbetween the building and his figure, which was pressed up against yours to keep you in place.
Physically backing you into a wall made you feel as if you’d also been backed into a wall emotionally, mentally. Like you had nowhere to go, nothing to say to get you out of the situation besides what Rafe wanted to hear.
“N-no…” your voice cracked as you admitted defeat, knowing it meant you wouldn’t be returning from break. Maybe you could text your boss and try to beg for a second chance later, but right now, Rafe was only presenting you with one option.
“There’s my good girl.” Again, he praised you with a gentle brushing of his fingers against the skin of your arm he’d just been gripping. You couldn’t help but lean into the warm, familiar touch. “Leave with me, right now. You don’t need to work. I’ll take care of you.”
He finally afforded you some space, taking a step back and letting you push yourself off of the wall. You brought a shaky hand up to your mouth, covering it as tears continued to fall. You took one last glance behind your shoulder, back at the job you’d been so excited to start not even a year ago.
In all honesty, you were surprised you even made it this long. Rafe would constantly try to convince you to quit bartending, to let him provide for you, take care of all of your financial needs.
…But work was your escape. It gave you at least six hours a night out of Tannyhill, away from Rafe, where you could actually get some social interaction outside of conversations with your boyfriend or his family.
Your eyes fell from the building down to the ground, where they remained as you felt your boyfriend draped an arm around your shoulders.
Rafe pulled you into him, ignoring your sniffles and cries accompanying the deep frown on your face as he led you away from the county club, and out to his truck.
You’d surely miss out on your pay for the night, forfeit your tips to the rest of the crew. Hell, you might not even get your check for the whole week, depending on how mad your boss would be at you ghosting your station on the 2nd busiest night of the week…
But that was okay with Rafe.
He’d take you home, make up for his controlling behavior and the loss of your job by going down on you. Then he’d make sure you took care of anything he needed, not the slew of amorous men you insisted were ‘just customers’.
You were sulking as Rafe guided your frame up into his truck, hands placed firmly on your hips. He made sure you were buckled in, offering your thigh a gentle squeeze and your cheek a soft kiss before he closed the door behind him.
It was only when he turned on his heels, positive his face was out of your view that a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
He’d got what he wanted out of you, and he didn’t even have to pull out all of the stops to do so.
The sad cycle was doomed to continue… especially now that you were left with no job and no real reason to leave Rafe’s side, in his eyes.
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willowbelle · 3 months
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i would kill for you to write some Law smut where he has a breeding kink please ^~^
as someone who literally has a breeding kink, say no more, anon. i’m on it! \(>ᴗ•)/♡︎
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Hidden Desires
❤︎ trafalgar law x fem reader ❤︎
𖤐₊˚.༄ (nsfw, afab!reader, 18+ only) 𖤐₊˚.༄
cw: established relationship, oral (f receiving), teasing, unprotected sex (don’t), breeding kink (duh), missionary, mating press, rough sex, slight stomach bulge, creampie (duh), petnames, fluff at end
summary: established relationship, reader is a member of heart pirates, Law has a secret kink that reader wants to figure out, Law lets his desires out, super nsfw with some fluff at end!
word count: ~2600
note: only loosely proofread so bear with me, my loves.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
Hidden Desires
Your boyfriend was a cynical man.
He liked things to be thorough and correct, nothing to be left to interpretation. He was a doctor, after all, a very practical one at that. His analytical precision was nothing to gawk at. For example, when it came to your sex life, he always insisted on rolling a condom over his impressive length before he railed you into the mattress.
But you were about to discover that there was something about Trafalgar Law that made him want to stray away from this methodical way of life.
He buried this desire deep inside himself, too frightened for what might happen if it were to see the light of day, if it were to make its way to your unsuspecting ears.
You knew there had to be something. Something about himself that he was hiding from you. Sometimes, when he fucked you, you saw some glimmers of this yearning slip from within him. On one occasion in particular, when he had you pressed against one of the icy walls of the Polar Tang, your legs wrapped around his waist shakily as he pounded into you, he let his aching speak for him,
“I want to fill you to the brim, y/n…”
The confession was quiet, so much so that you asked him to repeat himself, surely you had heard him incorrectly. Hips still snapping away against yours, he shook his head and groaned into your neck, refusing to elaborate.
This interaction had sprouted a seed in your mind, a tiny one, but one that you determined to nourish and sprout; what longing resided inside your boyfriend, your captain, that he insisted on keeping hidden from you?
Law was seated at his desk in his office, scribbling away in his notebook, his other hand holding open an anatomy textbook, dark gray eyes scanning back and forth between the two.
You laid on his bed, your body still, but your mind racing.
Silence had hung heavy in the room for over an hour now. The two of you had an agreement, if you wanted to keep him company while he worked, you needed to stay quiet. You knew Law was busy today, like every day, and you knew better than to disturb him.
You anxiously picked at your fingernails, trying desperately to catch up with your turbulent mind.
“What’s got your brain so preoccupied, y/n?” your boyfriend’s deep voice began, much to your surprise. He was speaking to you, of course, but his eyes remained glued to his notes. Law was an observant man, you weren’t surprised that he could still pick up on your mannerisms, even with his back to you.
“Thinking…” you admitted, knowing it wasn’t much of a confession.
“Clearly,” he toyed. You couldn’t see his face, but your brain filled in the missing piece. You knew he was smirking, as he always did when he bantered with you.
“What are you hiding from me, Law?” you began, moving off of the bed and bringing yourself to your feet, “I want to know what’s in there,” you spoke, motioning to his head with the point of your finger.
Your boyfriend finally brought his face up from his textbook to meet your curious eyes.
“What are you talking about, doll?” he chuckled, “You know me better than anyone.”
“I know I know you, Law,” you grinned at him, making your way towards him, placing your hand on his toned chest beneath his shirt. “But I want to know what you want to do to me. What you really want to do to me.”
To the outside perspective, Law’s face was cold and calculating, but to you, his partner, you could make out the slight blush that now dusted his cheeks, and the glimmer of arousal in his eyes.
“You really want to know, y/n?” he began, his voice now a seductive whisper.
Staring up at him, you gulped dryly. Even with no idea what to expect, you placed all of your trust in Law’s tattooed hands, and nodded your head.
With your assurance, Law began to speak again, bringing his fingers to the buttons of his shirt.
“Ive always wondered,” be began, starting to undo the buttons, “what it would be like,” working his way down his shirt, shrugging it off of his toned shoulders, exposing his tattooed chest and abdomen to you, “to fill you up.” Law gazes down at you, face painted with a knowing smirk.
You felt heat begin to grow in your core as you stared up at the shirtless man before you, your cheeks now glowing pink.
“L-Like how?” you stuttered meekly.
Law chuckles at you before sinking to his knees before you, placing his strong hands at the waistband of your skirt before pulling it down in one swift motion, leaving you in nothing but your slick-coated panties, causing you to blush even deeper, heat now boiling in your core.
“I want you to think about,” he begins, pausing to kiss along your thighs, “what it would be like,” he kisses more, making his way towards your slit beneath the fabric of your underwear, “to be stuffed full of my cum,” he begins to kiss your slit, causing you to gasp and reach down to grab ahold of his dark hair, “to be filled with my babies, y/n”
“L-Law…” his name is the only thing you can utter in response to his lewd confession.
He hooks his fingers beneath the band on your panties, pulling them down, too, to meet your skirt in a pile on the floor.
He spread your legs slightly to give himself access to your dripping pussy, rewarding it with a long stripe of his hot, wet tongue, causing you to throw your head back and cry out for him.
“A-Ah, L-Law-!”
His tongue continues its ravenous assault on your clit and opening, causing your legs to shake and buckle beneath you, but your strong boyfriend holds you up, not stopping for even a moment, his tongue still working wonders into your cunt. He lapped and swirled his tongue at your swollen clit, earning more gasps and cries from within your throat. Your vision began to grow hazy as Law pulls you further and further towards your impending orgasm.
“L-Law, i’m c-coming!” you cried, fingers still locked in his dark hair.
He only groans into your pussy in response, still feverishly working at your clit.
In an instant, the knot growing within your stomach snaps, and you’re gushing fluids onto Law’s hardworking tongue, throwing your head back and crying at the intensity of your orgasm.
“O-oh, my god, Law!”
Before you can even have a chance to recover, Law scoops you up and hoists you over his shoulder, carrying you to his bed.
“H-Hey!” you meekly protested, hitting your delicate fists into his back, “I need a second!”
“Sorry, dear,” he began, voice ridden with lust, “Need you now.”
You blushed immensely at his confession as he throws you gently onto the bed, wasting no time as he climbs atop you and locks his lips with yours. He’s breathing heavily as he kisses you, overcome with passion and desire. Your tongues dance together as you moan into one another’s mouths, Law dipping his hand down to begin working at the button and zipper to his jeans. You hear the familiar sound of a zipper being dragged along its track and clothes hitting the floor. When you open your eyes and glance down, you’re pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend’s long, beautiful cock standing upright against his stomach, pulsing with desire to be encased within your hot, tight, welcoming walls.
You wait patiently for Law to climb off of you and retrieve a condom from his nightstand, like he always does. Except, this time, for the first time, it begins differently. Law catches you offguard by taking his throbbing cock in his hand and rubbing his flushed, leaking tip up and down your slit, bare.
“B-But Law,” you started, voice trembling, “W-What about protection?” you uttered meekly.
Law chuckles as he holds himself up on top of you, his muscular arm flexing, still using his other hand to rub his bare tip against your leaking slit. “I want to feel you, y/n,” he begins, “Really feel you,” his voice is low and husky, “Everyday I sit at my desk and imagine what it would be like to fill you up with my cum until its spilling out of that pretty pussy of yours. I want to pump my babies into you, y/n” his face is in your neck as he confesses, his voice like warm honey in your ears.
Your legs tremble around his waist as you feel the evidence of your arousal now leaking more profusely onto your boyfriend’s thick cock.
“Then stuff me full, Law, please,” you purred into his ear, your voice velvety and seductive.
Law’s breath hitches in his throat and you feel his big cock twitch against your opening, clearly aroused by your desperate plea. He groans in your ear as he begins to push his blunt tip into your tight, leaking hole.
“F-Fuck baby,” he groans, “You ready?”
“Fuck me, Law,” you grasped at his muscular back as you pleaded, “Fill me with your babies.”
At this, Law wastes no time pushing into you, you let out a loud cry as he stuffs you full, in one swift motion, his long cock is fully enveloped within your tight, gummy walls.
“O-Oh my god, L-Law, you’re so big-!” you cry out, nails digging down his back.
He groans at the familiar feeling of your hot walls squeezing him in so tightly.
“I know I am, baby, show me you can take it,” he teases, voice shaky with pleasure.
Law begins to thrust his hips into yours, fucking you into the mattress as you shake and cry beneath him.
You inhale sharply each time he thrusts forwards, his blunt tip kissing your cervix with each movement, causing a small bulge in your stomach. Noticing this as well, Law smirks and presses a hand to your stomach to intensify your pleasure,
“Look at that, baby,” he groans, his eyes motioning to where his cock shows through your skin, “look how good im stuffing you,”
You cry out in pleasure, looking down to be greeted with the sight of Law’s cock pulsing beneath your skin.
“M-Mmm! Law-!”
Law’s tattooed hand moves upwards to hold your face, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into your cheek before he wipes your tears.
“You’re being such a good girl, y/n, taking this big cock of mine so damn well,” he praises.
You moan at his lewd remarks, wrapping your legs around his waist and pushing your ankles into his back, silently begging for him to go harder, faster, anything, you just needed more.
“Oh yeah?” Law smirks, “As you wish, my love.”
Law brings his hips back before slamming into you, making you scream out for him.
“Fuck! Law!” you cried, helplessly digging into his back. Your head spun at the intensity of the entire situation, your boyfriend finally letting his lewd desires escape his brain, his stoic composure breaking and coming undone and he pounds into your tight pussy and groans your name from atop you.
A serious 180 from earlier, when nothing but silence filled the room, but now, as your boyfriend had his way with you, the walls vibrated with the obscene sounds of moans and wet skin slapping together.
Law’s balls slapped against your cunt with each forward thrust, making you moan out delightfully at the feeling.
You felt yourself reaching your limit, colored tars dancing beneath your eyelids as you squeezed them shut while Law’s cock battered your cervix.
You dug your nails harder into his toned back, surely drawing blood, making him groan out loudly in pleasure.
“Shit, y/n, you’re taking me so well, you’re so fucking tight.”
You knew exactly what you had to say to break him, to make him burst inside you.
“F-Fill me, Law…” you whimpered in between thrusts, “stuff me full of your babies, make them leak out of this little pussy,” you cried, your eyes filled with tears, drool spilling from your mouth as you moaned for him.
“F-Fuck, y/n! You have no idea what that does to me-!” Law groaned through gritted teeth, his body trembling as he railed you.
And then, he pulls your legs from the death-lock they had on his waist and presses them down into the mattress, forcing you into a mating press.
“L-Law-!” you cried, now feeling his cock even deeper.
“G-Gotta make sure I get it all into you, y/n,” he groaned into your ear, making you shiver, “None of this cum can go to waste,” he purred, “Need to shoot it straight into your womb~”
You blush immensely at his obscene words.
He thrusts harder, now, the bulge in your stomach showing more prominently.
“N-Nghhh-! L-Law! I’m s-so close-!” you screamed, feeling yourself coming undone beneath pleasure-hungry, lust-ridden boyfriend.
“I’m right behind you, dear,” Law groaned, assuring you, “Let it out.”
And with his permission, you felt stars dance beneath your skin as you orgasmed, gushing onto Law’s throbbing cock, coating him in your slick.
“F-Fuck, baby,” Law cursed, voice hoarse, “I’m coming,” he groaned into your ear.
In an instant, you feel as Law’s cock shoots hot ropes of cum into your pussy, decorating your inner walls.
You throw your head back and moan out, digging your fingers into the bedsheets, trembling at the new sensation.
“L-Law-! Fuck! I feel it!” you cried, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and spilling down your hot, red cheeks.
“Y-Yeah? You feel my cum shooting into you, baby?” he groans, still thrusting into you, riding out his orgasm, forcing his cum deeper into you, “Gotta stuff it all into you,” he moans out.
You shake beneath him, feeling his hot cum begin to spill out of your cunt as he continues to stuff you with his big cock.
Eventually, Law’s hips slow and then still, his tattooed chest heaving up and down as he breaths heavily, coming down from his high.
He reaches down with a shaky hand and pulls out of you slowly, making you whine as you throb around nothing.
“Y/n?” he inquires, looking down at your flushed body, wet with sweat and moving up and down shakily as you breathe, attempting but failing to catch your breath. “Are you okay, doll?” he voice was ridden with concern, fearful that he overstepped with his kink.
You smirk and him and sit up, making him lay down before settling into his warm chest, his cum running down your legs.
You feel at home.
You hum happily before you looking up at him with your big doe eyes.
You grab his large hand in your smaller one, placing it gently on your stomach before leaning in to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, mirroring his statement from earlier,
“Everyday, I sit on your bed and think about how empty I feel.”
You feel your boyfriend tense beneath you, blush tinting his cheeks as you playfully bite at the shell of his ear,
“Thank you for filling me up, Law~”
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
anon, my dear, i sincerely hope this quenched your thirst-! it surely did mine (,,> ᴗ <,,)
i hope you all enjoyed breeding kink law!! ʚ♡︎ɞ
kisses,
willow ꒰⚘݄꒱
©this work belongs to willowhaze26.
do not repost, modify, plagiarize, translate, or share on other platforms. 
comments, likes, and reblogs appreciated!
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dreamisols · 7 months
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permission ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
—your boyfriend has a cute but questionable habit —wc: 1,140 ; sleepy proofread —fluff, birthday fluff, rin is (squeezes him gently), some personal headcanons, and slight younger rinnie personality headcanons —rimi's ramble: happiest birthday to rin itoshi my boy uee i love him so much <3 also halfway into writing this i realized how soft i always make him but i'd gladly ramble about that too
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it's been well over a year into your relationship with rin itoshi.
and at this juncture, you could say that he's opened up to you about nearly everything. it took time, and you were as patient as ever in his eyes. he showed you everything about himself: the good, the bad, what he wants to be, and who he used to be. you can't be fooled by his grumpy persona and harsh body language, not when he finally bared his whole raw heart for you to hold and love. you two knew practically everything about each other.
which might be why you noticed rin slowly picking up some of his old habits from childhood.
for instance, he'd wake you up sometimes from your summer midday naps to offer going out and buying some popsicles from a convenience store nearby to battle the afternoon heat. despite your lazy protests, you'd drag your feet and go with him. and you'd watch as his teal eyes carefully scan the selection of icy treats inside the freezer despite knowing he'd always grab the blue twin pops.
another is when he'd take you to aquariums for dates more often. he once told you in passing that his brother used to love taking him to aquariums when they both couldn't sit and overlook the beach. and now because of how frequently you two have dates there, you two are practically regarded as regulars by the employees (they've joked to rin once about how he should propose to you in one of their scenic spots in the future; rin choked on the water he was drinking).
but the most prominent one is how rin would have this mindless habit of asking permission for the most no-brainer, useless, and quite frankly, idiotically endearing things.
you didn't question it at first. they were honestly all reasonable things to ask from someone who's in a relationship for the first time. albeit he was extremely awkward the first few times around, with him struggling to get the words out, you eventually got used to his small requests and questions.
a small "may i come in?" after every time he knocks on your door whenever he's over at your place.
a shy offer of "do you want me to brush your hair?" when he notices you dozing off a bit after a fresh evening shower.
even a "is it alright if i stay out late with the team?" text once every blue moon whenever he's dragged to their shenanigans (completely against his will).
rin may be struggling with socializing and understanding others' social cues well enough, but mama itoshi didn't raise a disrespectful boy.
you really haven't paid much attention to this habit of his until his birthday.
"i... i can do anything with you..?" rin questions, almost in disbelief. nodding, you parrot his words back, "yep! it's your special day today, so everything's your call!"
"anything...?" he asks again. and like earlier, you nod once more.
there was a beat of silence that accompanied the shocked look rin gave you.
"obviously, everything within reason..!" you cough nervously, afraid rin might've gotten the wrong idea or got too pressured by your supposed surprise, "we also don't have to go out or anything... like i said, whatever you-"
"can... we hold hands...?"
you stop your frantic rambling when your mind processed his words. your gaze is directly at him, but he's staring at the ground like he finally discovered something groundbreaking. the way he spoke sounded as if he was in utter disbelief. it was like if his crush told him that they liked him back, or like he was told that he won the grand prize of something big.
which is confusing.
"y-yes we can?" you quirk one of your brows with a rather unsure smile, "we often hold our hands together, rinnie. we even interlock fingers."
your boyfriend still has that dumb surprised look casted on the wooden floor, "oh.. yeah..."
you were about to question the tone of his voice when he perks up so suddenly and goes on a tangent,
"can we wear matching scarfs when we go out, then? it's practical for the temperature. can we use the one you bought us... that one with the sanrio dog you said reminded you of me because of soccer— pochacco?"
he sits upright and looks up at you with eyes filled with so much anticipation that you can't bear to look away, "we can wear that, right?"
you nod again, "yes rinnie, we can wear that out. like you said, it's cold anyways-"
your excited boyfriend cuts you off once more, like an overly excited child, "if it's cold, can we cuddle? oh, maybe we can also get a mini cake from the bakery nearby? or better yet a parfait— can we share? i don't like overly sweet food..." he gasps softly, like he's struck with the most genius idea, and looks up at you once more for permission.
"can i kiss you..? but.. like, a lot-"
you finally squish his cheeks to stop his mouth from blabbering more and more words that make you both want to squeal at his cuteness and shake him like a dog does with a chew toy because of how annoyingly stupidly adorable he is.
"rin itoshi." the man sits straight at the use of his full name. "i love you with all my heart but oh my god if you ask permission from me for yet another stupid thing i might kiss you and or muffle you with the couch pillow." as if for good measure that your point gets across, you flick rin's forehead softly.
"you know that you're free to spoil yourself, match anything with me, and indulge in any form of affection you're comfortable with." you leave a soft kiss on his cheek, which elicits a gasp from your boyfriend.
"so no more of these useless questions, okay?"
rin nods three times, still looking at you with all the love in the world. your black cat of a boyfriend has magically morphed into this puppy of a man, you can practically envision his imaginary tail wagging from excitement. but you don't mind this side of rin—the side of his that allows his inner emotions, his inner youth run free. if anything, it's a testament to how much he's grown comfortable with you.
your lips form a small smile, your eyes reflect all your love back at him.
just as you were about to change the topic, you catch his teal eyes drift to your lips, back up to your eyes, then down to the floor.
three seconds pass.
"can we-" "you just want the kiss on the lips, don't you?"
if it results in more opportunities for kisses, then yes, he doesn't mind asking all these stupid nonsensical questions.
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likes and reblogs are appreciated, but please don’t copy or repost my work!
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teukbyeol · 3 days
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bathroom
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fem!reader x mafia!hyunjin
genre: pure smut
warnings/content: close proximity, public sex, mentions of smoking, mentions of drinking, gunplay (nothing violent), blindfold, squirting, cumplay
word count: 1635
MINORS DNI
Who knew a night out with a dangerous but captivating man surrounded by substances, his scent, and the ambiance of the night would bring the filthiest side out of you.
author note: 08/07/23 it’s been a month since i’ve posted, i’m so sorry. i have four plots sitting in my drafts; i just need to start writing but here is one of them. it’s insane that hyunjin is the ambassador for versace, LIKE congrats to him he deserves it. i just haven’t had any motivation to write and i think i lost a bit of motivation BUT i still do love writing so maybe i’m just lazy. –
03/24/24 YIKES it’s been longer than i expected to be away but i just got a spur of motivation so here i am ^^
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You had your eyes on him ever since he stepped foot in the club. It was nearly impossible to not look in his direction; he had a glowing magnetic aura attached to him. He seemed to have been wearing lightly colored contacts, a beautiful contrast to his jet-black hair. It was dark in that room but the moment he stepped in you could see the whites in the eyes of everybody in the joint, lighting up, widening, and following him about. He knew it too.
You loathed men who had such obscenely inflated egos, and you knew he was one of them. The way he carried himself, walking like he had the whole world on his shoulders and no care for a single thing. This wasn’t half wrong, he was someone who would always get his way regardless of any obstacle. Whether it was him or his men getting the job done, he without a doubt got what he wanted. You knew he was everything you detested, however, his supple milk skin, half-buttoned collared shirt, and loose black tie around his neck were speaking to you. The liquor and green were calling back to it all.
After dazing around in a trance, you found yourself just slipping into the dance floor. The bass of the music seeped into your skin, filling up your veins. You could feel the music soaring through you and on the outside, dancing along your skin. The room is ablaze with hues, everyone's nature concealed by the colored LED light shining upon those in the room. Your body was on fire, every movement was lagging and you felt like you were in slow motion.
Suddenly, you feel your body being hugged by a clean but masculine fragrance. You tilt your head to the side, turning it slowly and you see no one next to you. You turn your whole body around and there you’re met with the same collared shirt and tie. Your eyes scan up as your senses start to reawaken and you’re met with the subtle flicker of superiority that seemed to dance amidst the depths of his gaze.
They were a piercing shade of cerulean, similar to the expanse of an icy ocean, cold and unyielding. Despite the icy surface, there simmers an undeniable allure, a magnetic pull drawing you in despite the chill. As he glances down at you, his gaze seems to cut through the air with an almost tangible sharpness. He was consuming your form with a calculated assessment, his eyes framed by dark meticulous lashes, which held an air of condescension as he silently proclaimed his perceived superiority.
There was a light in the lingering of his eyes, a hint of smug satisfaction that shows him taking pleasure in asserting his dominance over you. You were more frail compared to his domineering aura. There was a magnetism– a raw attractiveness captivating you through his gaze. Oh, you felt your skin start to bubble up from the heat. You just despised men like this, but the hatred was shooting down to your core. It was your hatred mixing with the undeniable attraction, creating a dangerous concoction containing lust and desire for relief.
“Aren’t you a pretty little doll?” 
His enigmatic and intoxicating voice sends pulses straight to your heat, making your need and desire for him grow by the minute. Your eyes filled to the brim with lust as you held eye contact with him. He had a slight smirk on his face and you knew this was nothing for him. His eyes flicked to your plush, pink lips then scanned their way back into your lust-filled eyes. You don’t know if it was the substance or the confidence the lust brought back to you.
“Why don’t you show me just how pretty I am?”
His pillowy tinted lips crashed onto yours and you felt your legs turn into jello. With each hungry massage of his lips on yours, there was an electric current surging through them. It was simply intoxicating being so lost in each other. The intensity of the heat and passion of the shared kiss rendered your limbs weakening and being so hard to stand up. Hyunjin notices this.
“We can take it to the bathroom, yeah?”
He says, pulling away from the magnetic kiss making it hard not to crash straight back to your lips before you can respond. You nod your head and whine to yourself, not being able to make it loud enough for him to pick up. He softly reaches towards your hands and guides you behind him to somewhere more private.
The moment the bathroom door closes shut, you push him against the door and pull on his necktie bringing your lips to his once again. It was impossible to stay away from, your lips and his were like magnets, constantly trying to find ways to connect back to each other. You felt him smirk against your lips and you could not care any less about inflating his ego. You need him and you know that he needs you just ask much. You were validated as you started to press your body onto his, molding into his form. You felt his hard member rubbing against your supple body. He slowly starts to guide you to the counter, not breaking away from the kiss. His hands were roaming all over your body until he reached your ass. He cups them firmly and you knew he wanted to lift you onto the counter. You comply as you knew a second longer on your feet and your knees would give out from how weak you felt in his hold. You hiss as the cold counter made contact with your warm body, causing Hyunjin to chuckle. There was a dark and lust-filled look in his eyes growing.
After a moment he asks, “I know we just met, but… can I try something new with you?”
You nod.
Before you knew it your eyes were covered by nothing but a black fabric. Hyunjin had swiped his tie off hastily, tying it neatly around your eyes. You heard a click and some rustling. You then felt the pads of Hyunjin’s fingertips grazing your bare leg, your dress had ridden up your leg. He bunches the rest of very little fabric of your dress and rid it all the way up exposing the lacy material the wet from your cunt destroyed. He thumbs your clit over the fabric for a bit causing you to softly moan and move your hips in the rhythm of his circles. You reach out looking for some sort of support and your hand meets his strong broad shoulder. He brushes the hair off of your forehead.
“So pretty” He groans softly.
Soon after, he moves your panties to the side causing your puffy pussy to be met with the cool air; a contrast from the heat of your core. You suddenly gasp as your sensitive clit is greeted with a cold metal. Hyunjin chuckles from your reaction. You had only assumed it was the metal of his gun that you know is always on him and his men. You were a bit frightened to say the least but you trust him; and it felt incredibly good. You couldn’t help but let a few moans start to spill out from your lips. The tip of the gun starts to prod its way down until it meets your entrance. It slowly starts to stretch you out and the untouched shaft of the gun is still icy making you arch your back from the foreign temperature. Your essence covers his weapon as he continues to fuck you dumb with it. You had no idea what he was doing or how he looked doing this but there was some thrill associated with this. This leads you to imagine his pretty face with flushed cheeks and drunken eyes with his mouth hung open. You hear faint grunts coming from the man so you assume he is enjoying the show and stroking his length while making you fall under his control.
Your moans begin to become louder as the squelching sound of the gun fucking in and out of you heightens.
Hyunjin moans, “Fuck, you going to cum for me doll? Hm?”
You nod your head furiously, “Y-yes– fuck. I’m so close please” you whine.
Hyunjin picks up the pace and fucks you so deep that his knuckles start hitting and rubbing on your clit with every thrust. Hyunjin’s moans and growls begin to become more frequent and louder. It was like a melody and drove you over the edge. Your stomach tightens, causing you to close your thighs together but Hyunjin didn’t let you. You felt your cunt gushing, as you were squirting all over Hyunjin. You felt warm thick liquid oozing and dripping down your body and legs. Hyunjin rips the tie off of you and it takes a moment to adjust to the light. When you open your eyes you see his shirt soaked from your juices. You look down and see your cunt and legs covered in his seed.
“I just wanted you to watch me fuck my cum into you. You’re such a good girl, you deserve my cum” He says in an erotic tone.
You whimper and nod. God, the power this man had over you was beyond words. His long lustrous fingers gather his pearly white cum and rub it all over your heat. You moan at the mixing of your juices displayed on a throbbing platter. He then slowly fucks his cum into you with his fingers and curls up causing you to throw your head back and croak a cry. 
“I’m going to have so much fun with you Y/n, this is only the beginning.”
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evielmostdefinitely · 4 months
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slightly odd request but i’ve LOVED cold tonight and the others in the mini series and i was wondering if you could write something where reader gets into a disagreement with the caption wife of a politician snow HATES and reader does everything correct and is ‘well behaved’ for snow so when he gets her home she sort of breaks down in concern he’ll punish her and she’s worrying he’s mad at her but instead he just comforts her and tells her how good she is etc etc , maybe some praising smut if you fancy ? totally ok if it’s not your cup of tea !!!!
bitter cold |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|
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prompt: as requested above :)
contains: alludes to dom/sub themes but not super heavy. possessive, dark snow. reader gets hurt (not by snow). slight smut at the end but not super graphic.
“Mrs. Snow,” The snarl in her tone, you could practically picture the baring teeth, lips pursed in a forced smile that resembled more of a grimace waiting behind you; Cypher Crane. 
You turned, a polite smile on your lips- years of training. These dinners weren’t new to you by any means. You had grown up attending numerous socialite events such as this, only now, you were the President’s wife. 
“Cypher,” You greeted the brunette woman with a clenched grin. “Lovely to see you.” 
“Yes,” She hissed, eyes trailing down your figure, over your outfit with a flare of her nose in disapproval. “I’m sure it is.” 
You winced, sucking in a breath. And so it begins, you thought. Cypher was your age, you’d grown up going to school together, school yard friends even, at one point. Until you married Coriolanus. Since the death of her elder sister, Arachne, the entire Crane family had blamed Coriolanus. It was his idea that they go see the tributes, and therefore his fault she died. It never bothered Corio, he’d roll his eyes and wave it off, “The family is grieving. Let them blame me if it makes them feel better.” He’d scoff. Still, it upset you, their constant provoking. 
You cleared your throat lightly, scanning the room for Coriolanus on the other end, desperate to be away from Cypher, the tension already too much. “If you’ll excuse me, my husband needs me-” 
“-No, I need to have a word with you.” Cypher blocked your step easily, clutching her champagne flute. Your heart hammered, trying to stay calm, cool. 
“About?” You lifted a brow, tone lifting to stay light and casual- unbothered, hoping you would stay the same. 
“The games,” Her eyes narrowed, lips fixing in a tight line. 
Your heart dropped. Corio had made a number of changes to the games. Alongside Dr. Gaul, the two were working to gain more and more viewers. His first games, and he wanted them to be perfect. The changes had been announced to the sponsors council only a few days prior. You were sure that was why Cypher wanted to talk to you.
“Your husband,” Her words drenched in venomous disgust. “Made changes to the games.” You sucked in a breath as she took a step closer to you. “To the tributes.” 
Your eyes darted around. Where were your friends? Where was Corio? Tigris? Anyone to help you. 
“Yes, he has.” You nodded, swallowing the growing lump in your throat. “Dr. Gaul and Coriolanus thought it best that the tributes be welcomed and celebrated for their sacrifices-” 
“-I fucking know what he said.” Cypher snapped, her voice bouncing off the marble of the room, catching the attention of the guests around you- maybe the whole room. You were too scared to look, truthfully. Coriolanus’ icy, curious gaze had found yours, brows furrowed. 
“I was there when this ridiculous idea was presented, and quite frankly I’m surprised at you.” Cypher sneered, finger jabbing dangerously close towards your face. “Your own daily endorsing this-this monstrosity. Treating tributes as heroes? Funding new trains and tearing down the tribute zoo? Giving them this pedestal to parade around on?” 
“Darling,” Coriolanus’ tone was tight, it made your heart skip. You looked at him, eyes rounded in fear, pinned against the wall. Cypher close to you, Coriolanus behind her. “Is everything alright?” You knew he was upset about the commotion, the improperness of it. 
Your words jumbled in your mouth, fumbling over a calm, collected response. Cypher never turned, never moved, kept her furious gaze on you. “You know my sister was killed by one of those tributes?” Cypher sneered. 
The room stilled, Coriolanus’ eyes falling to you. You weren’t sure what to do, uncomfortable and a little frightened. “You do know it, and now you want to reward them? Reward the rebellion? That’s what you’re doing aren’t you?” 
“No.” You shook your head. “No, never, I- we would never-” 
“-Liar!” Cypher roared, lunging at you. She shoved you against the wall, your head smacking the heavy marble, wincing through clenched vision, waiting for the strike. 
Instead, Coriolanus had her, arms wrenched around her shoulders, shoving her with such force to the ground before the Peacekeepers drug her away. “You killed my sister! You did, Snow! And now you’re rewarding the ones who killed her! Her blood is on your hands, you rebels!” 
“Move,” Corio shoved the Avoxes out of the way, eyes scanning over your features furiously. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” He whispered, jaw clenched in fear, maybe rage. 
“I-I’m alright.” You took a shaky breath, reaching to the back of your head, rubbing the forming knot. Corio’s grip tightened around you.
“Take her to my lab.” Gaul commanded the guards, bright eye wandering wickedly Coriolanus’ way. He nodded, lips pursed furiously, one arm around you. “Clear everyone out.” He commanded with a sharp jerk of his head. 
“Corio, I-I’m fine.” Your breath shuddered, gripping his arm to steady yourself. “Everyone doesn’t have to leave-” 
“-I’m taking you to be examined.” Coriolanus’ jaw was tight, pulling you down the Capitol’s steps with a fury. 
“I don’t need that, darling, I promise. I-I’m alright.” Your heart beat furiously. You had ruined his event. You knew how important this was, and you let it get out of hand. Now, Corio was furious, and why wouldn’t he be? 
“You need to be examined.” Coriolanus’ tone was sharp, leaving no room for argument. Instead, his hand wrapped tighter around your bicep, hauling you to the private wing of the Capitol’s mansion- your shared wing. 
You didn’t fight, sure if you opened your mouth, you might be sick. Instead you sat obediently, letting the doctor examine you, avoiding Coriolanus’ intense, watchful gaze on you. Your fate was sealed, you knew it. Knew that he was upset with you- that he’d punish you for such a display.
The doctor checked you, wrote it off as a mild concussion with orders to not sleep. Coriolanus’ response of “I will ensure of it,” in such a cutting, firm tone, made you shiver. 
The room was eerily still when the doctor left, just you and Coriolanus residing in your bedroom, a thick tension in the air. 
“How are you feeling?” You jumped at the sound of his voice, sharper than normal, though his brows were furrowed with something softer. Concern, perhaps? 
“I-I’m ok, Corio.” You swallowed your nerves, clutching the duvet of the bed. “Just an ache.” 
“How bad of an ache? You didn’t tell the doctor this.” Corio huffed, standing quickly, crossing the bedroom with a fury. 
“Corio, don’t. I’m fine.” You shook your head, moving off the edge after him.
 Coriolanus turned around, frowning at you. “You’re not supposed to be up.” He huffed, harsher than he meant to. “Sit down.” 
You flinched, scurrying back obediently. “I’m sorry. I-I just, I’m fine. I promise. I’m ok.” You stuttered, stomach dropping and twisting with fear. 
Corio paused, watching you with careful eyes. He’d written off your skittish behavior as fear from the situation, fear from being hurt. Now, he watched you cower before him, eyes peering at him the way those he executed did, trembling with pure horror. 
An unpleasant heaviness settled in his chest, sinking to his stomach. “My love,” Corio frowned, stepping towards you. “Are you alright?” 
“I’m ok, Corio, I promise. I-I’m just-just…” You looked at him, head turned down, curled into yourself. 
Coriolanus knelt in front of you, between your legs, taking your face into his hands gently, stomach lurching at the way you tensed. “What’s the matter?” He whispered, blue eyes scanning your face for a sign, any indication as to why you were so fearful. 
You hesitated, lip rolling between your teeth. You wanted to stay silent, be obedient and not further him any more. His gentle touches were lulling you, coaxing your own anxieties out of you. 
“Corio, I swear, I-I did not mean for that conversation to get out of hand as it did.” Your eyes met his gaze hesitantly. “I tried to excuse myself. I tried to de-escalate it, and-and move away, but she was so… determined.” 
Coriolanus waited, blinking, still in his own confusion. Your hands twisted in your own clammy grip. “I didn’t mean to ruin your event. I-I was just trying to be polite and-and it got out of hand-” 
“-I know that.” Coriolanus tilted his head gently. “Darling, this isn’t your fault.” 
“She approached me, and-and I should have walked away or-or called you over-” 
“-You did what you should have done.” Coriolanus said firmly, lips pressing together. “I need to know who is with me and who is against me. There are far too many rebels, unscared and ready to strike. Clearly, the Crane family is one and will be dealt with.” You shuddered at the sneer in his tone, the venomous threat ominous of what was to come for the Crane family, what Cypher was already experiencing in Gaul’s lab. 
“I wish that would have been done without her laying a hand on you,” Corio grit, anger flashing through those dazzling, blue eyes that had you swooning when their gaze met yours. “But, I can assure that will not be possible for her to do. Not for much longer.” 
Your grip tightened this time, clutching his hand fiercely, like a lifeline. “You’re not angry with me?” 
“I could never be.” Coriolanus shook his head. “You defended me, I heard you- others heard you.” His lips curled in a soft smile. “I couldn’t have asked for anything better.” 
You beamed under his praise, relaxing into his touch. Corio’s fingers brushed over your knuckles carefully. “Are you feeling ok?” He asked, softer now. A touch of… worry in his tone? 
“Yes,” You nodded, pressing your forehead to his, your noses touching. “It’s just an ache.” 
Coriolanus’ hand tightened in yours. “I should have her whole fucking bloodline removed for that. For putting her hands on you.” 
“Don’t.” You whispered, shaking your head gently. “She’s upset. She lost her sister.” 
“She’ll be losing more than that tonight, my darling, rest assured.” Corio hissed, that cloudy darkness seeping back into his gaze. “I will make sure of it.” 
You didn’t fight him, didn’t try to sway him. You didn’t want to upset him further, there was nothing that could change Cypher’s fate anyways. 
Instead, you let him dote on you. You let Corio’s fingers brush through your hair, parting your scalp, running lightly over the small knot there. His lips were soft, pressing a gentle kiss to the sore area, before replacing it with ice. He even held the ice pack in place when your arm got tired, like a true, doting husband. 
Your eyes would droop, a soft pat to your leg waking you, a stern stare that had you blushing bashfully, thighs pressing together. 
“You have to stay awake, my love.” Corio reminded with a soft grumble, rubbing your scalp gently. 
“So keep me awake.” You purred, pressing up on his chest lightly, body between his legs. Corio grinned, hands cupping your cheeks, pulling you into him, lips hungrily devouring yours. He moved you gently into the goose feather pillows, lips dragging down your cheek, jaw, biting at your neck. He was so sweet to you, fucking you how you liked- on your stomach, his body folded on top of yours, hands intertwined, hot breath grunting and moaning into your ear.
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astralnymphh · 7 months
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SEXROT 𖤐 | ellie williams
☠︎︎࿐-ˊˎ jackson!ellie x fem!reader
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⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!
AN: second fic ever published, it took sm longer but has more focus on the smut part of it. maybe the epilogue is a bit more casually written but its whatevs y'all def just here for the smut anyway. but(t) i hope u enjoy!! cause i sure did!! various times.
cw/tags: NSFW 18+ MDNI, smoking weed, getting high, friends to lovers, flirting, killing infected, guns, knives, blood description, replaces the jackson patrol scenario, spitting, dom leaning ellie, fingering (receiving, vaginal) clit stim (receiving and giving-ish) strap penetration (receiving, vaginal) oral (receiving) petnames (babe,baby,babygirl,princess) almost caught naked tewgether 😈(not in the act)
WC: 6.6k+
designated song: anesthesia- type o negative
synopsis: you have resided in jackson for about six months solo in a humble cabin only a stroll away from the lively community plaza. ellie introduced herself to you two months ago on the full lunar night of a bonfire and have proved inseparable ever since. both of you had a couple things in common upholding your friendship but lots of new experiences arise from beneath those shared interests. one day, you and ellie embark on the scheduled patrol for that afternoon, plowing through scattered clusters of infected inhabiting dilapidated buildings lost in the past. presently, after trudging the pearly snow and eluding the raging snowstorm, tucking both of you into a lone library sitting amongst those very buildings, brimmed with a 'herby' mystery.
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Your uneasy fingers grasp the rustic steel door handle, deprived of the haven sourced on the summit of your horse's saddle minutes prior to entering this enigma of a building. Not a soul has settled within these walls for a considerable stretch of time and it shows, dust cloaking the floor, a void pooling in various corners of each room, the stuffy and still air clogging your senses and peculiar noises erupting from either your mind or physical reality. You roll the knob and push the loose door open, hinges creaking untimely with the lingering presence of a clicker revealing itself with the infamous croaks emitting from its fungal body.
Ellie is close behind, poised over your crouched shoulder with hawk pupils scanning the room you've just discovered. Her hand nudges you and deviates your focus from the room, honing on what she was mouthing in empty words.
"Watch my back, I'm gonna sneak up on it." 
You nod subtly in accordance, flattening your back against the icy door to make a path for her.
Ellie extends her gloved hand out on the doorways trim, shuffling on crouched legs past you and into the pigsty of an office, steadily approaching the mindless croaking clicker.
Your fingers seize the pistol sheathed in its thigh holster, provoking the trigger with dual fingers ready to fire a round right in the clickers noggin if need arises. The creaky chatter cracking from the fungoid continues as Ellie creeps upon its obliviousness, pouncing timely and capturing it in headlock as she fluidly jabs her switchblade into its rigid neck, spewing crimson blood outwards that painted her sleeve quite disgustingly.
"Uck," she conveys, face contorted with sourness.
Stillness remains until the coast proves clear, giving you a chance to address, "All good, no more infected." 
"Well, it's about fucking time!" she heaves the figurative indent of edge from her tense chest, flicking off strings of blood from her winter sweater.  "Think this doors' unlocked?" She queries herself prior to twiddling with the rattling door knob of a possible exit.
Your wandering eyes uncover the roughly concealed red and grey steel box, internalizing instantly that it was a generator, "Hey, 'Williams', there's a generator." you make known to Ellie, who's not even facing it.
She turns around, "Where there's a generator, there's a hideout. We could use the supplies, so.." she sauntered over to the generator, folding her knuckles around the pull-tab, "Hope they don't mind us borrowing- also, don't call me by my last name!" 
You snort a genuine laugh and ogle the way Ellie cranks the cord, arm so stable and fierce. You felt like a bumbling idiot for admiring her mere movements, but something under the skin pined for her in a way unfathomable at first glint. Her cinnamon dotted cheeks, badass scar slanting in her brow, fluorescent fauna irises, button nose and the sheer nerd that she was really spun the tide coalescing within your tenuous heart. On the other hand, her mannerisms, thrumming husky voice and attitude frets the knot in your pelvis beyond a fixing point you can't manage alone.
"C'mon, lights are on in here." Her voice snuffs the ramblings clogging your brain, grasping your attention towards the door swinging open just now.
You stare into her pupils barreling into you, now twisting a impishly curious visage.
"What'chu thinking about?" 
Your eyes flicker, "Nothing." A clod draws from your tense gullet, gulping the trance that bewitched your susceptible mind.
"Doesn't look like 'nothing'." She prys with a low gravelly tone, waddling languidly towards you.
"Nothing." You pursue vaguely, dusting past Ellie in a swift pace.
She just gawks at you, thin grooves in-between her knitted brows while she swung her head round to trail her eyes after you. Admittedly, she entertained the stray thoughts of you mutually, as the living recreations of you are sunken into her journals pages habitually. Her wrist recalls every arch and convex of your face, fingers honor the sway of your eye shape, subconscious retains the wisping of your baby hairs and consciously, Ellie just knows you as 'cute girl'. That very title is etched under the whole lot of depictions reaping your glamor throughout her journal.
"You think Eugene used this place too? I mean, all this electrical shit, nobody'd tinker with it except him." She infers, reverting to the eased doorway you just proceeded through.
Your void mind instantly heeds the flurry of wired veins branched across the next room. Your eyes trace the river of cords until it vanishes between the wall and a peculiar bookcase. Illumination pummels through the frayed wood planks backing it, luring your mind towards this enigma.
"Yo, check this out." You hoist an observation aloud, Ellie's umber auburn head whirls to peek at your discovery.
"What the fuck?" An airy chuckle grates from her throat in awe, peachy lips ajar and nooks of her mouth flexing into a smirk.
You lend your weight upon this bookcase, plateauing to drive the colossal bookshelf from where it's planted. "Ugh, a little help?"
Ellie giggles at your measly endeavor to motivate the shelf, that dumb wide crescent grin bearing upon her spread lips, "Got no muscles or something?" she quips.
"Shut up!"
She caves in and assists you regardless, moseying around and towering over you, casting a dark specter across your body. It was a casual stance, but quivers your beating core nonetheless. The noise of scratches indenting underneath the hefty bookcase as it drags screeches in your hollow eardrums.
"There." Ellie claims hoarsely, whooshing her breath against your bare neck and scoring numerous hairs to plumb from your skin.
Shaking it off, you embark through the threshold, eyes tunneling upon a downward staircase beckoning you to traverse to its descendant level.
"Tch, did Eugene own a sex dungeon?" Ellie immaturely cracks, scurrying down the steps faster than a dog could.
"I hope. That dude was lonely." You jest back in emphasis, earning a gust of laughter past Ellie's lips.
"Think we'll find scary whips and chains in there?"
"Oh my god, Els! I don't think he was into that kinda stuff." You hop a step, springing upon her and jabbing your stiff knuckles into her unalerted shoulder blades playfully.
"Ouch! It was only a theory." her voice curves in defense, sowing her feet flat after the last tread of stairs. 
You tumble your eyes accompanied by a sigh, beating her to the door and pushing it open to a sight your noses realistically should have detected a floor above. Least of all ambrosial, the fetid source birthed from a garden of weed, some potted, some dangling, lots cascading over the steel tables, essentially, a fuck ton of herb.
"Unholy shit!" You expound with starstruck pupils, molting away the playful exterior you harbored just moments ago and cast an astonished visage.
"Did he grow.. all of this?" Ellie doesn't grapple with the notion of it right away, but soon materializes it in her cranium and wanders over to a pot of the dried sage green herbage.
"Must've taken ages.." you pondered, plucking a brittle leaf off its hunched stem, chafing it to ash between the pads of your glove-clad digits, "And a day.." you slyly add in regards to the weeds dehydrated state.
Ellie stupidly grins in reaction to your joke, baring teeth and all. She strides past arrays of trays, rustling the herbs strung up to the ceiling. Her eyes land upon an obscure shape, alluring her to inspect the properties of this object. She erupts, "It's a gas mask bong." cradling the mask in her hands, infatuated by its genius design.
"In what situation would you even use that?" you doubt it's anything more than plain goofy.
"Emergency relief?"
"Of course you'd know how."
"Hey, I don't smoke that often!" she wards in a pitched tone, scoffing at your mere belittling.
You reel back into a searching mode, lurking among the next isle of weed till a glass jar of blunts enlightens you. "Ellie, there's a jar of this shit!" 
"Oh for real?" she trots hastily to your region, bearing a vivacious fever at the sight beholding a for real container of rolled blunts.
"Think it's fresh?"
Ellie hums an 'I dunno', cusping the jar from your hands and wrenching the lid with all her might, not budging at all. It takes her a blur of tries, observing the way her thick brows purse together and summon those vertical grooves in her forehead, an attractive sight to you.
"You need help?" you mock her, unzipping and unsheathing your arms out of the slim fitted sleeves fashioning your winter jacket.
"No, I got it." Ellie assures with a cluster of uncertainty smothering her strained voice. She had to practically arch over and bound the jar to her abdomen for faltering pressure.
"Gimme that." you snatch the glass from her dense grip, garnering a doubtful sneer skipping her lips.
"Like you'll get it." 
"You shouldn't be talking." you dart a wink.
Ellie flits a smug middle finger like the immature fiend she is, peeling the green jacket layering her pewter grey hoodie off. She tosses it astray to the ground, lurking towards a convenient couch and relaxing her butt against the nook of its armrest.
The lid refuses to subdue to your firm grip, feebly slipping and searing an exasperated groan gritting your teeth. Your instincts flash and wills an arm up to hurl the jar harshly against the stone ground, pulverizing the glass into countless shards.
"What, the fuck, is wrong with you?" Ellie halts at every syllable, gesturing with her palms like a shield to the jagged fragments.
"A lot."
Ellie gives a judgey once-over at your unbothered demeanor, hiking off the couch and crouching down to cautiously pinch a freed blunt from the debris, feathering the dust off and indulging a whiff held to her nostrils, "Smells good." she asserts, hoisting up and offering the joint to you.
"We' taking a detour?" you metaphorize, rotating the blunt like a wheel between your fingertips.
"We're trapped." Ellie educed a reminder wary of the billowing snowstorm that proved risky to tread earlier.
"Totally trapped." 
You both take harbor on the buffered sofa, bodies naturally vis-à-vis, a sheer four feet apart. Flicking the lighter cap open, plucking the tab and igniting the pocket flame whilst keeping your keen eyes on Ellies, who's piercing the windows to your soul with those juniper rings.
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Ellie studies your face brazenly, locked on your profile as you kindle the blunt casually, lodging it between your lips to inhale a drag. Her optics tear an awkward barrier in the vacant space between you, now bidding a tension on the horizon. This makes you feel, seen, read like a poem, one that Ellie read often, and adored endlessly. Weed scorches the walls of your throat, eliciting a cough to spasm from your tight chest.
"Gah- fuck!" The spasmodic fit weaves through your distress, extended arm begging for Ellie to nab the source of your rasp from your jolting hand.
She snickers in belittlement at your expense, that dorky toothful smile crooking her rosy lips, "First time?"
"No."
"Liar." 
"You'll never know." 
Ellie's grin broadens prior to catering the blunt to her lips, pursing around the tip to drain a puff into her barren lungs. You take a gander at this sight, melting in the dimensional image of her woody auburn hair veiling a halo around her hung head, perking up to huff a thick smog enveloping you.
"What happened- last night, at the dance?" 
"You mean, with Dina?" she passes the blunt back, fingertips mingling a moment.
A hesitant drag soothes your lips, "Yeah, if you're uh- fine telling." Luckily, a cough doesn't plague you.
Ellie's cheeks lift a smirk, "It was a.. wild night. Dina.. kissed me and then Seth went bigot mode and said a not-so-nice word."
"Oh, shit." your brows rear and carve horizontal creases to your forehead, "You good?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm just.. on edge. This helps though." she beams, nicking the smoldering blunt from you.
You couldn't divulge if she referred to you or the weed being her beacon of ease, but you dust off the thought. "So, you and Dina?" you inquire in a flirty mimic.
"N- it's.. just a kiss. She was drunk, I'm not gonna look into it- it doesn't mean anything." she stutters in a flustered haze.
Drawing some smoke in, then puffing it out, a smile invites itself on her pooling red midface and hijacks your attention.
"Why' you blushing then?"
"I'm not fuckin- fuck." Ellie's embarrassment stinges the sight of her smile as she flicks her head away, a cute sight to you that warrants your rising feelings at this moment.
"I think it's more than a kissss~" your tone curls playfully, nagging at Ellie's rattled state.
"You're on thin ice."
"A crimes' been committed, someone stole your heart!"
"I will come over there and fight you, no joke!" 
"Ellie's got a girl-" 
Out of the void, she has you pinned by the wrists under her clammy palm, sinking into the padded seat beneath you, auburn bang drooping like a pendulum over your face with the barely existing space between your faces. Senses plagued from the way gravity lashed out of you and hallucinogens deceived you, burrowing and growing like mold in the foggy vale of your skull.
"I don't have a girlfriend," Ellie utters through a sluggish jaw. "yet."
Your mind makes out an elusive meaning to her words, "You don't like Dina.."
Her lips calcify ajar, hot breath seeping into your buzzing skin, "It's someone else."
"Me?"
Her eyes waver, but strike up, "Yeah." she admits in a soft chuckle, wedging her thigh between your shut ones cunningly. You swear her pupils dilate like a supermoon.
A euphoric orb rings inside of your essence, thickening your veins and coating a cloak of boiling heat over your swelling hips wailing for a fucking when her voice brims your ears. This weed has really got your mind and panties in a pleasant twist. The confirmation of her liking- love? Maybe it's too soon, but it sure confirms your hidden suspicions.
"I think we needa get back to your place." Your words weigh heavy with intention.
"Fuck yeah we do." Ellie aligns with your suggestion, gnawing her tender lips with intention as well.
You both hustle off the tearing couch now tinted with a lustful sweat, not paying an ounce to sliding a coat on or gloves prior to, but not without pilfering some lone blunts scattered upon the floor, mounting your horse and galloping off.
The warmth of Ellie's garage-shed-home drinks you up graciously, biting back the bone-chilling skull-screaming fever of the merciless ice age outdoors. The locked door affirms you won't be bothered, so your nerves settle and excitement brews deep in you. A new heat bonds with your body physically, Ellie embracing you cordially and her face dominates your vision.
"We're here." Her husky voice streams pleasantly, "What now?" 
A chill races your spine, replying in a stutter, "L-let's do this on your bed." You heave out with desire, digging your nails into her hoodie-clad back.
Ellie descends slightly to tuck her hands under your knees, buckling you around her hips snug and lodging her crotch against your heat, the rivet of her jeans poking the valley of your clothed cunt, earning a choked whimper bearing pleasure. The ensuing moment, you're cast onto the cottony bed with Ellie crawling over you, latching her plump lips on your bare neck and peppering your neck with prompt and sloppy nibbles.
"You want this? Cus' I really want this~" her words muffle in the crook of your jaw. "But d'you?" she intoned against your ardent skin, hips bucking and rolling the lump of her denim into your clit, causing you to bear down and grind back in chase of those lovely whits of ecstasy.
"I want it.. so bad.." the tension piling since the couch at last reprieves through every respite and roll of her hips.
Bodies chafing together at Ellie's intended friction, more importantly, knee now rutting against your aching clit stirs a kugelblitz in the cavern of your pelvis. Ellie peeks her face over yours, tucking the apex of her nose aside before rolling her lips on yours with passion, smacking sounds filling your headspace.
"I've liked you for so long, yknow?" Ellie affirms on your lips, "I wanted you for so long."
The pure carnal burn tickles your skin, bubbling a sinful image behind your eyes and mouth ardent to bite down on her bottom lip in hunger.
"Fuck, babe-" Ellie breaks the kiss briefly to utter, dazed vision, via her arousal, tunneling into yours with wide pupils.
You grin, prying your thumb between your teeth in a way that appeals to her. A hand traverses your body and toys with the hem of your shirt before lurking under and grasping your bra-clad breast fondly.
"Ahh~" your voice creaks when her thumb shimmies under the bra and plays with your fervent buds.
"Like that?" Ellie's tone dwells with honeyed lust, so sweet yet so intoxicating.
Lips polarize together and spark a continuous blossom of arousal, soaking the panties and coating a flim on the denim in a portal shape. Bound by a sluggish spell, your limp arm snakes over your torso, fingertips stroking Ellie's forearm and folding under the rim of your shirt to pull it off, exposing bare skin lush with blemishes and scars, trailing along with your jeans almost torn off in a rush.
"Damn." Ellie's airy chuckle riffs in your head, prefacing a long flirty whistle.
"Stop.." A blush bruises your midface, darting away from her intense stare that crowds you with a shy rotation of your head.
"Hey, look at me." Her fingers forcep your chin, reeling your head back to drown in her sights like a gentle whisper of adoration, "I wanna make you feel good.." her words cruise in a promising melody.
That very declaration screws your core in delightful ways, waxing a breaking sweat over your already humid exterior, interior when it refers to something else.
A notion murmurs akin to a soft hollow echo betwixt your temples, ushering your body to motion. Your hands spring to clasp her unaware wrists, tussling her over and straddling her hips.
"Woah, okay. This works." Her lips spread to an exalted smile, palms perched on your thighs and digits prodding the viscose skin wrapping the crests of your hips, reading every stretch mark with her finger pads which adorns a satisfied beam to her eyes.
A slew of exhilaration crashes against the walls of your body, grinding that clothed sensitive bud on the ridge of her zipper fly, biting back a riff of moans.
"Lemme hear you." Her hand scales your body, thumb inching past your lips and hooking over your teeth, beckoning it ajar.
"Fuhhhck.." You thrill her with a droning groan, stirring your eager tongue around her thumb and suctioning a kiss around her knuckle as it adjusts beyond your teeth.
"Suck, babygirl." 
Obeying her word, your lips bolt around the root of her thumb, siphoning it further inwards on the plateau of your tongue and casting dozy sex eyes upon her.
"Good girl," Ellie's finger skims out from your teeth, leaving a trail of saliva down your chin.
Your hips wallow over the hill of her bunching jeans, feeling a finger embed and press up onto your clit, damping the tip of her willowy digit thinly and hollowing out a clamor of moans.
"I gotcha this wet?" A brazen smirk glamours her lower face, rousing her own elation with a weighted chafe of her thighs, "Fuck, baby."
A figment of her voice remains like a chant in your smothered mind, calling your eyes to shut and live in every sting of pleasure stimulating you.
"Hmnnn.. mmm~" you purr, unfathomable bliss influencing your actions with every roll of your bud.
"Can I take these off?" her fingertips peruse your pantyline, to which you nod, pleating them down your hips gently once you've granted the okay signal.
Your panties eventually get hurled somewhere in her room, probably dangling from the edge of her TV screens' rim or now invited to the pile of her own laundry, nonetheless, she honed in on your now stripped slit, spreading your legs with her own shuffling first, displaying your bareness split across her open thighs.
"Watch my fingers."
So you do, focused on her gliding hand grazing your thigh in an unhurried manner, coaxing the crevice melding your thigh and crotch before they split and part your folds. She gives you a once-over before dipping into your drenched core, sucking her fingers up like it knew her touch. Her fingers inside prove warm and filling, sliding through your clenched walls with ease and in return rewards you with a drunken and drowsy gaze from her seductive greenhouse glow eyes.
“You take me in so well, shit-” Ellie’s humid mutter seeps into the swirling skin of your temple, close proximity with her heaving chest and the aroma of her natural scent coating the chamber of your skull deeply.
Her skins aflame with an amber luminance and dampening, reeking of carnal ache through her sullied hoodie, so you slur out, “I wann-feel your skin’n mine..” you clutch on the band of her hoodie, knuckles prodding her firm abdomen.
"Fingers not enough?" Ellie's hoarse yet silky voice coos, fingers sliding from your sopping wet cunt and slick glazing her svelte digits beautifully.
"I need all of you." You lean and overshadow her stationary body, hastily pulling her hoodie over her head and ruffling her hair a smidge.
"Mhm, baby?" Ellie reposes her benign palms to your hips, fingernails indenting the plush skin of your ass and inscribing a reddened row of scratches, a daring idea lighting inside her head, "y'wanna sit on my face, pretty girl?" her husky tone thickens.
An answer spurns from your agape lips, instead winding your body to heed her suggestion and climb upwards towards her face, observing the way she bites her pink lips at the sight of your eagerness before your stature projects over her and offers a pleasing sight to her sex-swollen mind.
Your avidness turns her on, admittedly, "Fuck, babe- gonna clean y'up good, okay?"
Her greedy digits resume through your ocean-soaked folds, splitting them apart and sinking three fingers in, fiending for the profound warmth your core provides. They dip in nicely, entrance molding to the shape of her fingers, absorbing every intent feeling her curving knuckles elicit in your throbbing walls and the celestial heavens wash over you.
"Fuck me- oh god.."
"That's what I'm doing.." Ellie sneaks in a playful joke, a crook slanted smile smoothing her lips for a mere moment before swiping it away with her tongue 'wetting the whistle'. Her hunger lives for your taste, colliding timely with your clit and suckling the bud into her pressed lips, simultaneously pumping her fingers into your leaking pussy and forcing a spiking yelp from your unlatched mouth.
"Mmm, Ellie.." you whine, gripping on her already disheveled locks instinctively.
She doesn't reply, too focused on rolling the swelling bud with her nimble tongue flicking endlessly between your delicate folds. An arm buckles over your thigh, elbow adjacent to your hip crest and pinning you further against her deft lapping motions. Ellie knew what she was doing.
The curved fingers coaxing your g-spot sparingly is just enough stimulation to decay your functioning senses, "Els- El..Ellie.." you wail breathless, her tongue prying at the hood of your clit lovingly whilst suctioning inwards sends shockwaves down your legs and into your feet.
Ellie parts from your core, smeared with your slick gleaming down her chin. She sucks in the wetness dripping from her lips, "Tastes so good, babe- mm, so fuckin' hot." she steeps her vision in the perspective of your body elongated before her, eyeing like a precious gem.
You melt in the quickened pace of her fingers inside you, knuckles deep and brimming with arousal overflowing at the base of her fingers. The intense thrusting of your sobbing pussy ejects a melodious line of moans, "Fuuuuck…" masking the tantalizing noises of your heat slapping with Ellie's palm.
"Cum, babygirl, come on.." Her voice husks gravelly, deepening in your skull while numb-fucking you into oblivion with hawk eyes staring up at you.
Lubricous strings lash against your outer folds and inner thigh at each smack her hand endures, her tongue slurping up those juices pooling over your neglected clit adding an extra layer of lust incarnate ramming your walls to be released. Giving in, your nerves flare up and pulse around your opening, limbs tightening and clenching, especially around Ellie's lithe fingers, a sweet pleasure engrossing your entire essence with a rush of fluid spiraling down her knuckles.
"Good fuckin'- that's m'girl.." She growls inwardly against your stuffed cunt, thrumming from her chest igniting that attractive muffled voice she crowns.
You feel her fingers slip out, leaving a hollow sense rooting in your core. A suctioning sound comes from below you, noticing that Ellie had licked the taste of you from her pussy-drowned fingers. 
"God, Ellie.. where'd you learn that?" you huff out, still descending your head from the sun above.
"Experience." She discloses, not a fragment of bluffing behind those proud eyes, relishing in the way she drove you to boundless ecstasy. She announces, "I'm not done yet though." 
You inquire a bumbled facade until you hack her meaning just as she leverages you off her face with dual strong grips setting you to the side. Hoisting onto her knees, spinning 'round to rustle through her nightstand, equipped with a slightly beaten but sealed box once she faces you again.
"Fuck is that?" You ask with knitted brows, curving curiosity in your smirk.
"So, there was this sex store up in-"
"Ellie, is that a dildo?" you poke the box.
"Not- exactly no."
"Bitch, I'm gonna be getting a different kind of infection from that."
"It's sealed! The building was barely ruined or inhabited," She defends, gentle hands rubbing your folded knees. "I just wanna fuck you."
You bob your head languidly, bidding an unwarranted smile on your lips, "You did, though." 
"But I can do so much more.." Her face levitates towards yours, "If you want?" the corners of her mouth jerk, upholding that memorable smile, dimples, nasal lines and all.
"Obviously.. I want it.." your voice rumbles navelly, eyes fix on her pupils, narrowed lids and a siren visage.
"Head on the pillow then, princess." Ellie chuckles, hands mindlessly peeling open the box.
Your fingers linger on your bra, still on somehow, so you brace it off willingly, plopping into the cloudy pillow enveloping your sticky skin with a cotton case creasing like a halo surrounding your head.
Ellie dumps the box's contents out, a thick hunter green mass smacking your thigh, "Shit, sorry." she clasps the strap-on by its buckle, leading it off your thigh simultaneously to giggling.
"How long ago did you find that box anyway?"
"Like.. a month or two?" her voice curves, unsure.
"So, you've been planning this for 2 months?"
"I've liked you longer than that."
"Oh?"
"I didn't plan it, I just.. had the stray thought." Ellie's cheeks churn in a red tint, "But I always think of you, fake dick or not."
"It's fine, I wanted you for a while too, so it's mutual." you sync a blush, anticipating the hazy lust to clamor within you again, "Thought of you too."
A mischievous grin carves on her lower face, light eyes squinting, "Like, in bed-"
"Get that damn thing on already."
"Yes, ma'am!" Ellie resumes her motions, tearing the rest of her under garments off in a pinch, bare alongside you. She fastens the strap on snug, jabbing into her untended clit that jams a groan out of her diaphragm.
"Neglected a bit?" you tease.
"Shut up." she hushes in a honeyed mumble, slouching slightly and grasping the mimicked shaft, spitting into her unoccupied palm and massaging the length graciously, "There we go.." she hums deeply.
Next thing, Ellie's hoisted your bottom between her thighs and legs hugging her hips loosely, seconds away from cramming the entire base into your over-sensitive pussy. She runs the tip through your delicate folds, sloshing the lewd slickness around which is music to your ears. Her eyes darted over to capture yours, withholding the appetite for one last affirm of consent; "Ready babe?"
"Mhm." You nod with zero hesitation, squirming your hips in timidness for what might be brought upon your foggy senses.
Ellie leans her body over you, sinking the tip between your slippery walls and gauging you in one quick swing of her hips. 
"Fuck!" Bliss clogs your throat but overdrive knots in your pelvis, implanting your bottom deeper in the sheets as a means of reprieving the inferno of overstim just slightly.
Ellie lends you a moment of adjustment, asking in a silky tone, "Can I start moving?" her face a breath away from yours, arms like pillars locking you between her hands.
"Please.." you secure your legs around her hips, nicking her in the butt with the heel of your foot playfully, "fuck me.."
Ellie's muscles tense in excitement, fierce craving looms in her face and her hands run down to grip your hips in a carnal fashion as she sinks you deeper on her base, uttering under a hush, "I'll fuck the shit out of you."
Following that, you embrace her close to you as her hips begin to crash against yours slowly, akin to a wave, hollowing and filling as she pumps her hips flawlessly. 
Tickling whimpers purring from your lips linger around the base of her ear, encouraging her to speed up slightly, chromatically raising the pitch of your pleasure, "Els…" you whine.
The strap jerks back at every thrust, chafing with her sensitive clit in provoking ways that draw out steamy breaths from her every moan. Friction beguiled her to pace faster, digging the straps base into her bud deeper, heaving a "Fuck, baby, fuck!" from that groggy voice as your hips knead together, her fingernails scraping your plush bottom instinctively.
You cast your head back towards the headboard, displaying a tidal of curses surfing from your throat at the top of cloud nine, "Yes! god.. harder.." 
"Say my name.." 
"Els-E-Ell.." you struggle as your voice gets smothered by every buck her hips produce.
"Come on.. you can do it." she motivates you in a sugary sweet coo.
"Ellie!" you wail, "Ellie.." 
"Good girl."
Ellie snaps and throws her torso up, clutching your tender hips and slamming them down on her eased cock, front slapping harshly against your bottom with aiding wetness splayed across your legs, her face contorting one of strain at the sheer intensity her speed proves to be.
"Mm, fuck!" You writhe in erotic contentment, stunned by the pure sensations sweeping your nerves and swirling around your pelvis, she's fucking you so good, your minds' all mush.
Ellie bites back her ceaseless rasps, riveted on the way your breasts bounce restlessly with every pound, bewitched by the sight and honestly almost drooling since her mouth was just open. She groans, "You gonna cum again? Hmm?" her thrusting falters and begins to get sloppy, out of breath.
"A-huh! Hmmnn.." your vision blurs and you fall into a dizzying spire, fucked out of your mind and on the verge of snapping.
"Yes.. yess.." Ellie mewls out, the dark amber strand sticking to her drenched forehead, emanating a beautiful glow across her body that weaved every groove her toned muscles bestowed, highlighting her drooping lids, agape mouth and taut forehead creasing when fucking felt just right.
All the feelings bubble up, the strap hitting your g-spot so perfectly, fogging your mind and tossing your coordination out the window. She descends her head towards your neck, sanguine bites lathered upon your shoulder and crook of your neck.
"Ellie- I'm gonna.."
"Me too." She huffed out, slamming your hips down in unison with her movement, a sheet of slick glazed between both of your crotches causing a wet slap to occur with each thrust, "Open up more, babe." her hands trail to your thighs, forcing them apart .
"It's s'fhukin g-mmm.." your voice slurs and cuts off.
"Shhhshh… shh.. I know.." her lips drag against your ear, prideful eyes drowning in your fucked out face, proud of her work. 
The swelling knot in your pelvis finally snaps, sending you quivering in her arms. Lewd moans clatter against the rooms walls, orgasm overwhelming your systems and gyrates your brain on a down spiral. Muggy sweat cloaks your entire body and hinders a steady breath from grazing your lungs.
Ellie's pelvis doesn't hesitate to halt, colliding with yours and rendering your already fried senses into a numbing and jittery state. She chases her own climax, hosting a melody of moans into your ears as she approaches release, "Fuck~ fuck fuhhckk.. babe." she squints harshly, driving her clit into the strap's base fiending for release.
"Els.." you whine, bracing the eruption of overstim.
"Just hold on, baby, hold'n.. uhh- fuck." Ellie's neck tightens and narrows her voice into a groan, gripping your wrist with a might to bear down her intense orgasm, sexy low growls thrumming from her chest. Her body falls flat on you in immediate exhaustion, burrowing the strap deep inside at a pause.
A laugh entrances you, "Felt good, hmm?"
"I should be asking you.. shit.." Ellie's chest rises sporadically against you as she syncs a giggle, sliding her hips away and taking the strap off without batting an eye so she could pepper you with smooches enraptured in a cuddle.
"It was good.. really fuckin' good."
Your reply seeps into her mind, inviting a sheepish smile to her face, "So.. does this mean, you'll be my… girlfriend?" a chuckle spurts out to clear any awkwardness.
That same pre-sex shy blush paints your face, replying, "Yeah, hell yeah."
"Okay.. you wanna, stay here tonight?" Ellie suggests with soft yet worn out eyes, fiddling with the hair cascading from your scalp.
"Of course, I don't think I can walk anywhere now." you quip, whisking your finger over her nose tip.
"Yeah.. bet I was better than any guy." She praises herself, beaten fingers tracing shapes on your chest.
"At least you get to choose your size."
"Pfft, you're funny." A brilliant laugh brushes past her lips, with a mellow whisper, "and so pretty." her thumb swipes your cheek.
You wrap your snug thighs enveloping her body, "You too, Williams." 
"Still calling me that? I thought I said-" 
You seal her lips with a prolonged kiss, dragging your lips against hers in a hypnotic passion, getting her to engage in something a bit longer than a lone kiss. She indulges without a second thought, slurping you up and tasting every inch of your-
A knock pounds your hearing and the door, adjourning the steamy makeout for a different time.
The voice behind the knocking calls out, "Yo, Ellie! You in there?" unmasking itself to be Jesse.
"Shit!" she yells, "Be right there!" and scurries off the bed, hunting for her under garments frantically.
You quickly bolt off the bed and swoop your undergarments, nearly toppling over as you shimmy your underwear on hurriedly but fortunate enough to catch your fall with some clamorous foot thumps to the wooden floor.
"What's goin' on in there? You fightin' a runner in there?" Jesse quips, his voice deadened by the walls.
"Ye- No!" Ellie stammers in a rush, managing to yank her jeans up and throw a bland white shirt over it, oblivious to the fact that it was inside-out, seams bulking and tag visible.
You were on the brink of raising a question to Ellie, but bite it back as she swings the door open and you cling to the closet adjacent to but behind the open door, not without a blow from your back against its rattling nature that had Ellie spooked for a split second.
"What're you doing here?" Ellie inquires, crossing her arms to appear unbothered.
"Heard you had quite a night after I left." His voice clarifies, streaming through the open door.
"It-" Her response defects, "She kissed me. Dina being Dina, it doesn't mean anything-"
"Wait, you kissed Dina?" Jesse interjects her reply, voice curving in curiosity.
"Oh, I thought-"
"We're broken up one week and you make a move on my girl?"
"No- She was the one- I don't even.." Ellie corners herself into a distraught state.
"I'm messing with you man, I don't care. I just swung by to tell you Maria switched up the assignments for tomorrow, you're up for more patrol."
"Seriously? I thought I'd get-"
"Hey why's your shirt inside out? Did you really get tangled up with a runner in there?" He jokingly peeks into the room, jolting back when Ellie's forearm bars him out randomly.
"None of your business, I get it now you can go." She sternly affirms, slowly creaking the door closed.
"What'chu hidin' in there?"
"Go!" Ellie strikes the door shut on his face, secretly flipping him off from the opposite site under the knob.
"Unholy fuck-"
"Next time try not to wake the dead with your footsteps!" She snaps back at you through an adorned smile, on edge from the unexpected, interrupting, visit.
"Like I said I can barely walk from your-"
Ellie strides up in a pacey fashion, cradling your head from the back in her palms, linking lips with yours soulfully. 
You press your lips, dawdling with hers and soaking in the taste of breath and flesh. It feels so good to expose your love, animated for her in this moment now, like a singing felicity in your heart. She parts, engulfing you in her olive irises before she croaks.
"Say we.. get back to bed? I wanna show you my drawings.." A sugary murmur trampling her usually husky voice.
"Yeah.." you wriggle your lips in a creeping smirk, leveraging your weight from one leg to the other.
"C'mere." Ellie creaks before tackling you onto the bed, burying you with infinite ticklish kisses along your face, a declaration of unfiltered affection in her lasting intentions.
"Ellie! That tickles.."
"Good."
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