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1800titz · 2 months

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HI. This is the pornstar!AU (Tiger Harry). Enjoy :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: face-fucking, anal play-ish, Sir kink, general manhandling, light dom-sub dynamics

WC: 8.6K

“Are you open to raw anal?” is probably not a statement Y/N had …entirely expected to hear when she’d agreed to discourse over pastries and dirty chai lattes.

It’s a pretty good one, all things considered, and asked with complete professionalism, according to their careers and the open, apathetically businesslike expression shaping the features of her counterpart. Y/N takes a sip of her latte. It is quite a good latte. He wasn’t wrong there.

Harry blinks.

It’s very on brand, despite the way she’s sure one of the baristas has definitely twisted around from the dishpit, side eye discreet …but there. And in the barista’s defense, she couldn’t even blame her for eavesdropping on the sordid contents of their public discourse. Y/N isn’t going to turn around and look.

In Harry’s, he didn’t exactly shout.

The man across from her takes a slow sip from his latte. Good latte, very good latte.

She can’t help but admire his varying assortment of rings as he cradles the cup, irises winding from the blocky, golden S to its chunky counterpart, the H. So many times she’d admired those hands, those ring-clad fingers traipsing over bare skin, just the tips meddling over abdomens and winding circles around navels. Those digits sunk into the hair of his partner, tangled into the roots as he manually bobs her head over his cock. Those fingers twisting over the pink tip of his shaft, lining it up before his hips pump. Those long fingers splaying over cunts, swiping a thumb to ogle in front of the camera.

There've been so many instances where Y/N had wondered the significance of that H and that S. And it’s been really quite simple all along.

Should I call you Tiger in person, then? she’d tapped out over the LED keyboard, days prior when they’d only been discussing the prospect of a meet up. Days prior, before she’d flown out for an on-camera collaboration, to bask in the sunlight of California, to enjoy overpriced dirty chai lattes and oddly promiscuous dialogue in the corner of a cafe.

I think I’ll just take Harry when the cameras aren’t rolling x, RideTheTiger had messaged back.

Anyways, it’d probably be a sleazy, poorly-executed one liner (and consequently, a horrifically red flag) in possibly every other circumstance, but this isn’t a first date and RideTheTiger has, thus far, been the furthest thing from sleazy. Even paid for her dirty chai latte, practically shouldering her out of the slot at the register. Pulled her chair out for her, asked about her traveling fares prior to delving into said anal topic. It’s all been fairly gentlemanly. Very business-partner-coffee-meeting.

“No condom,” Harry tacks on, like it’s clarification for the raw segment of raw anal, as if it actually needed some sort of clarification.

Y/N takes another sip. Damn good latte.

“I like it,” the young woman tells him, clearing her throat on this edge that implies she’s mindful of her volume. Somehow, even as a freelance pornstar, she still hasn’t quite managed to get over the awkward degree of shame that a public setting incites. “I like the...”

That barista is definitely fucking peering over.

“…The mess,” she settles on, because anal creampie doesn’t feel like a term to be said with her whole chest over a guava pastelito.

For a short moment, Harry just watches her, jade roaming and the corners of his mouth slowing seeping into a simper, like he knows brazenly discussing anal creampies in the middle of a cafe — not quite packed, but still a cafe — has her kind of squirming in her seat. He takes another drink.

“She’s got airpods in,” the man tells her eventually, forest-y irises jolting to something behind her head — the barista that’s clattering about behind the counter. And if she’s listening in, she’s probably going to go home and find one of them online, or ultimately both, and probably subscribe.

The tension in her shoulders melts away the longer he grins at her over the lip of his lid, dimples indented in the flesh beside the upturned edges of his mouth. It’s just what they do for a living. It’s just sex. It’s just talking about the sex they’re going to have on camera.

There’s bells and whistles to it, too, but it beats sitting at home and answering phone calls where angry customers screech all tinny through the headset and don’t comprehend the words, “Sir, if you can’t use your inside voice and talk to me like a civilized human being, I’m not going to be able to resolve your issue.” For Y/N it is. At least she gets a couple of orgasms out of this.

“Sorry,” she tells him, shoulders slumping, “I think I’m still not— I get …weird talking about it in public settings.”

Tiger gives her this careful look over, eyes amused.

“S’okay, I understand. If you’d rather get into the details back at mine, I’m okay with that.”

“No, no,” Y/N protests, motioning out with her free hand, almost like her frigidly humiliated disposition will turn him off from collaboration, “No. It’s just, like. Sex work— it’s— it’s 2024. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Harry blinks. He gives her another one of those slow, knowing grins with his strawberry mouth.

“No, seriously. We can get into the …rough drafting in a more private setting.” And then he takes another casual, horribly nonchalant sip, “I get it.”

The man splays back against the chair, the hand not clutching at his beverage laid against smooth bamboo varnish, the nails there neatly manicured and painted with a soft shade of green lacquer. Y/N wonders what that particular color would look like with a glimmering top coat after he’s sunk the digits in between her thighs. She casts her gaze back up to his face.

“I just figured I’d ask because we exchanged tests last week.”

Clean as a whistle, RideTheTiger, (appropriately renamed in her contacts as Harry Tiger OF collab), had messaged on a Tuesday afternoon. That text was tailed with an HDR attachment of paperwork detailing his clean-as-a-whistle results, for proof. And the polish on his nails, fingertips gripped over the edge of the sheet, had been a pretty sky blue in the picture.

She’d wondered the same thing, then; what OPI’s Rich Girls & Po-boys would look like glazed with a sheen of her slick arousal.

He’s just a fuckable man, Y/N thinks, sat back in his chair like discussing sex work scene scripting is a normal mid-day affair, soft dusting of stubble coating his jaw, curls swept up off his forehead. His white tee shrouds the swallows and the inky butterfly she’s seen flexing over his tummy, the laurels that seep into the deep cut of his v-line, but it does very, very little to hide the artistry that litters his arm.

That same arm she’d seen in videos, wrapped in pumped muscle as his fingers had worked his partner to the brink of bliss at a merciless pace, plush mouth shaping over some sort of filthy croon, dimples indented. Those same hands cradling over his counterpart’s throat with a gentle squeeze, that same thumb swiping messily over his partner’s bottom lip. Those same eyebrows with a crease carved between their furrow, those same curls in sweaty, disheveled disarray from the incessant rake through of his hands as his cock got swallowed up by a pretty, swarthy-skinned brunette, or maybe a blonde. A curl that’d flopped over his forehead in those videos, hardly hiding a rivulet of sweat that’d dripped from his hairline, is neatly tucked back under designer shades, now.

Designer shades he’s bought with his dirty porn money, because despite his spiffy, clean boy, seemingly innocuous demeanor, RideTheTiger is dirty, dirty, dirty.

Because under his warm smiles and his twinkling jade, there’s an alter ego that lives on the internet. One she’s all too familiar with.

It makes her chest sort of flush under her sweater. This is happening. This is going to happen.

The chair creaks a little when he sits up, clearing his throat, “I didn’t want to assume, but. I mean— I’m sure you’ve seen, like, my tips. Is it …odd to say I’m a fan of your content?” his gaze slowly settles from his drink to her face, smooth baritone almost …bashful as plush pink splits into a beam and his words catch on a laugh, “Is that …weird?”

Y/N knows exactly what he’s referring to. They’d been two mutuals subscribed to one another, chunks of profit migrating from inbox to inbox. It’d been like a volley, electric currency bouncing through the expanse of the internet, racket to racket, account back to account, pinging notifications striking on uploads behind paywalls. Only then, Tiger was just a man behind a screen. Tiger wasn’t sitting at a table in front of her, and they weren’t discussing the crude elements of the video they were going to shoot together.

“Not at all,” Y/N clears her throat and pairs it with a side-to-side shake of her head.

She’ll never admit that she’d touched herself to the solo session that’d popped up in her DM’s behind a paywall only last week, an automated promotion sent out to all subscribers. The one where he’d been sat in one of those lush, swivel-y chairs in front of his computer, firm thighs splayed and ringed hand tugging over his leaky cock. The camera angle was broad enough to capture his eye contact with the lens, the way his front teeth would nip at his bottom lip, the way the column of his straining throat would go on show as he’d tipped his head back with a groan.

She blinks, staring ahead as she remembers the way cum had painted all the way up over the panting butterfly. Harry grins from across the table. She half-expects him to brazenly admit he’s done the same to her content. So far, she’s concluded that he’s quite unashamed.

“Makes it easier to fuck, right?” Y/N says, beating him to the punchline.

He makes this face then, tipping his head, eyes widening and blinking playfully, mouth curling like he’s appalled by her brazen admission in said public setting. Before the young woman can get flustered by his teasing, he sits back and lets his features relax into something soft.

“Yeah. It does.”

Harry doesn’t tell Y/N she should wear a plug on the day that they calendar in for shooting. Not while they’re in the cafe. In fact, he waits three whole hours until the very precise moment where she’s using her apple pay at a drive through for the notification banner to swipe down.

When Y/N steps into his entryway, there’s a wilting cactus stemming from a ceramic basin next to a bowl of keys and varying knick knacks. There’s a pair of dice in there, too.

“This is Tim,” Harry introduces, unprompted, motioning to the withering plant in passing.

Y/N nudges with her chin like a sort of acknowledgement, tailing him through the hallway, where a neat array of three framed, abstractly artistic renditions of Kama Sutra positions line the segue. She’s half convinced that the doggy one follows her movement like one of those oddly unsettling renaissance portraits.

“Very nice.”

It’s a Thursday, and they’ve determined today to be the day that they collaborate. She’s wearing the plug, and she tries to ignore the anticipation curdling in the pits of her tummy as she tails him to the lounge.

“I think I overwatered him, honestly,” Harry tells her, aimed over his shoulder, “but I can’t bear to part with him.”

He’s wearing gray sweats, and he’s definitely opted to go commando, if the imprint of his dick when he pivots to face her is anything to go off of (though, whether he’s ditched underwear for the sake of the shoot or solely for comfort, Y/N isn’t sure). All she’s really, actually sure of is that she urgently needs to unglue her eyes from the outline of his cock.

“D’you want a drink or anything? I mean, I don’t like to do any alcohol before shoots, but if you want, I have seltzers in my fridge.”

He’s all soft attire — the sweats and bare feet padding over tile, curls a little mussed and swept back. A white tee coats his torso with a cartoonish bee in the center. The words ENJOY HEALTH, EAT YOUR HONEY circle the little piece of outlined artwork in blue. His nails are still green.

Y/N clears her throat. “Do you have water?”

“F’course.”

The kitchen is beside the lounge, and he tells her, as he makes his way over and opens a cabinet to cull a glass, “You can have a seat if you’d like. Figured we’d get the details down before we start filming.”

His couch is an onyx leather, its form like one of those fancy ones from a 1970s inspired catalog. Y/N sinks into the cushion. She crosses her legs. Uncrosses them. Behind her, the fridge whirs in the kitchen as the water pours into the glass. She’s admiring his fireplace when he stretches the beverage out to her.

“What are we feeling today?” the man winds around to the bend of the sectional, flopping back against the cushions with a sigh as his cotton-clad thighs splay, “…Slow and romantic? Something a little more rough?”

“Used and abused,” Y/N responds, surprised she manages to keep her cadence as even and nonchalant as she does. The second the statement escapes her, though, she takes a long sip from her glass and hides her simper behind it.

“Used and abused,” Harry parrots, sitting up a tad as his hands seek new homage from their priorly relaxed splay over the back of the couch. His palms smooth down the fronts of his thighs, instead, and he gives her this little grin; something mischievous that lets his dimples wink alive. “I think I can work with that.”

Yes. She’s certain he can, based on his track record of deviously, deliciously rough content. Three weeks ago she watched a video where his partner was laid out on a table, duck-taped limb to limb, and Y/N had watched his hand — rings removed — roam her body with such delicacy as he drove forward into her. It was all up until the point where the same hand had snaked up around her throat, and then he’d brought it back and smacked her right across the side of her unsuspecting face. It’d sent his partner’s head snapping to the side, and a wave of heat riding through Y/N, coursing through her blood as she’d flipped the vibrator between her thighs to a higher setting.

Yeah. He can work with that.

“Since we’re going with that route,” Y/N blinks out from the fog of memoirs circling back to Tiger’s hands exploring and pinching and delivering blows.

Tiger is much more subdued in this setting.

“Let’s talk things you’re into, things you’re not so into.”

The young woman gnaws into her cheek to bridle her grin. “Um. Anal’s a go. Obviously.”

Harry nods, mouth friendly, “Okay.”

Y/N deliberates. She takes another sip. Harry waits patiently. His green bores into her, and the young woman rolls her lips into her mouth, pupils climbing up to the ceiling as she contemplates. She cocks her head.

“…Face-fucking. That’s nice. I like dirty talk. I like getting my hair pulled. I like a little bit of pain. You know, like. Spanking. Face slapping, but not, like,” the edges of her mouth cave up, “MMA level—“

The joke culls a huff of soft laughter from him. He nods.

“Just. General manhandling is good with me,” Y/N tells him.

Harry nods, his fingers interlocked over his spread knees, and then he sits up a tad.

“Alright. If we’re going with face fucking, I’m a fan of the trusty tap-tap-tap,” he tells her, motioning with his left palm and patting over his thigh in a series of three as he speaks, “If it ever gets to be too much and you can’t say it, just tap three times, yeah? Just like this.”

Y/N nods. She takes another sip. For a moment, Tiger still has his forearms braced over his lap, but then he sits up a little more.

“And then when you can say, if anything’s uncomfortable, if you want me to do anything different, just let me know. Doesn’t matter if the camera’s on.”

Y/N crosses her ankles. She uncrosses them.

“S’all about authenticity. Y’know,” his tongue peeks out to swipe over the plush of his bottom lip, “I don’t wanna be throwing you against the wall or choking you if it doesn’t feel good, even if it looks good on camera. If you’re a clit girl, we’ll play with your clit—“

Her thighs press together.

“If you’re a g-spot girl, we’ll focus on the g-spot.”

She swallows.

“The throwing against the wall and the choking,” Y/N doesn’t bother hiding her simper as it grows, “Those are good with me, too. And— clit stuff. Yeah.”

Tiger is hot. Fire hot, like lava coursing and bubbling over rigid stone, even in his soft attire with his soft curls and his soft smiles. He’s got these eyes that feel like they bore through her clothes, but it’s not in an uncomfortably hungry way.

“What do you… what should I call you during the shoot?”

His strawberry mouth curls a little.

“I hear Tiger a lot. M’fine with whatever besides Harry on camera. …If you wanna get a little more into roles we can do Sir. But s’all up to you.”

It feels like he’s just got this effect — this intense gaze that makes her tummy swirl. It’s not innately an odd shift, going from this entirely professional discourse to soft touches roaming up her sides once they’re in the bedroom.

It’s the setting for their shoot, and she finds that he’s already got a camera set up on his dresser. One of those that opens up and has a little screen piece that swivels to show what’s currently recording. Harry trails over to it, toggles with the little screen, and, she assumes, begins recording.

There’s a shag rug by the bed in cream. Y/N eyes it as Harry tugs his shirt over his head, as he makes his way over. Tiger is fire hot, but his touch skims her arm like testing the waters at first. His palms cups her face, the pads of his fingers grazing the sides of her neck, close to her nape, and then his cushiony mouth finds her own. That’s testing at first, too. It’s not a chaste, innocent first kiss by any means, but his mouth is gentle, at first. His hands aren’t hard, and his mouth slots against her own with a kind of tenderness. When her fingers tease up at his waistband, fingering at a warm line of skin between his sweats and his t-shirt, his mouth morphs hungrier.

“Just—“ Y/N manages between searing kisses as his fingers work the seams of her shirt apart through button-work, “—-jumping right into it, huh?” It’s probably not the sexiest thing to say from the get go of the camera rolling, but she’s honestly still got bits of nerves coiling up in her. This is RideTheTiger. This is happening. She’s going to fuck RideTheTiger.

Another short kiss, this one she can feel the cushiony pink of his mouth curving up into.

“Sorry,” Harry amends against her mouth, lips ghosting wetly against her cupid's bow, and the word sounds sort of amused.

And then he’s manually spinning her and marching her over to the dresser, where the camera is set up, her stumbling, rushed gait steadied by the firm press of his thighs from behind as he walks her, colossal hands cupped over her arms.

“This—” he starts, an introduction blatantly made for the lens, and her pulse stutters when his palm slides up and across and cups over her throat warmly — not quite squeezing, but just there. His other hand explores the expanse of her silhouette from the waist down, pads of his fingers roaming over her tummy, “—is the infamously naughty Birdie.”

Her veins thrum with something, something hot when the ringed digits traipse to the button of her jeans, just looming over.

“Can I take these off?” Harry murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tips of his curls tickle at her temple, and she knows he asks it low enough that it’s meant for her. She knows the camera will pick up on it anyways, too.

“Yeah,” the agreement falls out meshed with an exhale, and her head tips back against his shoulder as his fingers do deft, impressively one-handed work at quick discarding.

The other hand fondles at one of her tits, only covered with fabric for so long before he takes advantage of the opening he’d made along the line of buttons, pulling at one side for the pink polka-dotted cup of her bra to come out on display. This is all very pro-level disrobing. Y/N decides that when Harry multi-tasks, popping the button of her denim through, pinching at the zipper and tugging down, all still with his other hand caressing over padded flesh at her chest. Ultimately, though, both hands make their way to her hips, and his digits wriggle under either side of her waist band to strip her jeans off, until they rest at about an immobilizing mid-thigh, with an unceremonious yank.

“I’m Tiger,” Harry talks again, finally, after what’d been a silent moment of apparent concentration, his chin ducked into the nook where her shoulder and her neck meet.

The man’s fingers toy up under the hem of Y/N’s shirt, wandering over a bare sliver of skin between the top and the line of her panties before they climb the buttoned suture and make work there.

A chill rolls down her spinal cord, stemming all the way from the nape of her neck, the back and underside of her skull, when Harry declares, almost like she’s not even there, his voice a low and heady baritone, “But, she’s going to call me Sir, and we’re gonna play a little rough with her today, because that’s what she asked for.”

He’s mid her panting ribcage when the tone in his dialogue switches. It melts from sultry and low to something mirthy when the man sighs and huffs against her neck, like the rounded latches are a long-time nemesis, “Buttons, buttons, so many buttons.”

Y/N can’t curb the surprised laugh that bubbles from her in response. Her hands rise from her sides (where they’d prior been pretty glued, mostly out of awe and the raw sort of submission manhandling incites), and her forearms brush against his own warm skin as the pads of her fingers shakily work over the stitch he’s on. Harry makes an amused sound into her skin as the corners of her mouth curl up.

This is real. These are the real moments, the ones that she’s ogled so many times from the other side of the screen, caught on camera mid an otherwise entrancing, perfectly choreographed session of picture-perfect fucking. Like the one where he’d spit and it hadn’t landed where he’d wanted it to, or the one where his partner had spent so long in an angle with her hair over her face and his palm cupped over her mouth, that by the time he’d let up she was spitting out stray hair that’d sunk in past her lips, like a cat with a hairball. Soft laughter had bloomed from the both of them when recognition had dawned, and he’d fingered over her tongue to help her as they’d switched positions. It makes sense why Harry never seems to edit those moments out.

Authenticity.

Y/N hopes he doesn’t cut this fragment of the video out.

“Sorry,” the young woman tells him, her voice garbled with giggles.

His hands snake up from under her own and they’re the one to pop the final button through. A chilly ring brushes the inside of her wrist. The top separates.

“There we go,” Harry says, tone colored with enthusiasm, and the way his fingers grip up under the cups of her bra, four for each, and tug abruptly, letting them rest under her freshly-bared tits, kind of, sort of gives her whiplash.

“Teamwork,” his thumbs slip under either side of her underwear and slink those down until just enough is showing for the eye of the lens.

Her gaze flits to the viewfinder, and the little icon of her denuded silhouette, pressed up against his chest, one swarthy, inked arm tucked over her ribcage and the sight of his other, ringed digits skimming lower, down her tummy, has her squirming in his grasp. Harry sponges kisses to the side of her neck, and then those ring-clad fingers slide between her legs. Every melty muscle in his arms grows wide awake and tensed like fucking stone. It’s only for a second, before he draws his index and his middle digit, splayed into a blissful V, across either side of her clit. That’s when she liquefies like putty in his hands again, humming softly.

“…And we’re gonna play with her arse,” Harry tacks on for the camera, almost like it’s an offhand afterthought and not the entire basis of the scene they’ve etched out.

Y/N laughs, but it melts off into something soft and whimpery when the V lingers and drags.

“Would you like that?” Harry murmurs, nose tucked into her hair — another comment where the volume implies that it’s obviously meant to be shared between just the two of them — his mouth ghosting over her earlobe and his hand climbing up the ridges of her ribcage like a ladder, “Hm? You want me to play with you there?”

When his palm expands to rest over the gap between the caging of bone, the space extends out on a breath and she rocks in his touch, hips rolling back subtly. “Mhm.”

It’s not something he fails to pick up on. The pads of his fingertips expertly toggle at the clasp of her bra — honestly, she’s ludicrously impressed, not only by his keen recognition of the frontal clasp, but this seemingly innate, deft ability to discard clothing pieces with one hand. The straps relax and slip down her shoulders the second the cups fall free and apart.

“Mhm?” Harry mimics; a low, teasing hum. Y/N thinks then, that this little, patronizing repetition thing he’s got going on could be categorized as a kink in and of itself.

The palm that’d settled over her diaphragm slinks up to grope at one of her tits.

It’s kind of game over from there.

There’s something hard and solid digging into the small of her back, and the longer he spends fondling between her thighs, the longer he spends swiping his thumb over her nipple, the more heat teems to her core, like a glowing warmth that seeps and pulses. The more sure Y/N becomes that his fingertips are definitely culling that top coat she’d pictured all along, enhancing the color there with glinting excitement.

“There’s a good girl,” Harry purrs when her legs spread a smidge more in response, despite the way they’re nearly glued together with the immobilizing squeeze of her waistband resting mid-thigh.

The tip of his nose burrows into her hair and grazes at the skin on the side of her neck when his head ducks, fingers sneaking further until the pads press to explore where she’s gushing. His index and his thumb work in tandem to pinch at a nipple and tug.

And then his tongue licks a practically searing stripe right beside her jugular, and his words send air over wet skin to soothe the flame, “…Getting my fingers all wet, aren’t you?”

Gameovergameovergameovergameover.

Shelosesshelosesshelosessheloses.

Another burst of air over the wet skin, the soft creak of a chuckle — that’s what reminds her that she’s definitely not breathing.

Fuck. Y/N sucks in air with a chest tensed like metal armor. His teeth nip over her earlobe.

And then RideTheTiger slides his slick fingers out from between her legs, coaxing (when she sags in his grip like a marionette that’s had its strings snipped), “Why don’t you give them a little spin and show them the pretty plug you’ve been wearing for me, pet.”

Touch, touch, touch. When Y/N pivots for him, turning her backside to the camera, his mouth brushes the crest of her cheekbone. His warm pecs go flush with her own chest, his palms settle on her love handles and the insides of his rings stipple chills to combat the heat of flesh on flesh. He sponges a kiss to her throat when the young woman throws a glance back to the little screen and shakily presses her palms to the globes of her backside, pulling the flesh there apart to show off the pretty end, silicone petals cradling the shape of a rose.

That’s when he kneels, cheek pressed to the side of her thigh, when he casts his gaze to the plug with that telltale furrow to his brow bone that she’s seen caught on camera so many times. That’s when his teeth burrow into the pillow of his bottom lip, when he brushes a nearly tentative touch over the plug with the tips of his fingers. That’s when Harry nudges at it and jade bounces from the pallid pink plastic to the shape of her jawline tensing above in response, mouth growing mirthy.

Nothing prepares her for the way he praises, almost like he’s in awe (and nearly too low for the camera to catch), “So pretty.”

A crease works in between her own eyebrows when his index and his thumb pinch over the plug and twist. And then he lays his thumb over the base and pushes, lightly, as if it can go any further. He draws the pad of his index over the hilt of the plug almost thoughtfully, and then tap-taps in a pair of two that makes her roll her lips into her mouth

“Don’t move,” Harry instructs, after a moment, sneaky, devious fingertips withdrawing altogether. She’s holding her breath again. Y/N readjusts her grip.

“Just like that,” comes his croon from below, undeniably heady and entirely responsible for the warmth churning between her thighs, “…Just like that, little bird. Show it off, baby.”

Little bird hits her like a fucking freight train.

It’s just a play on words, a moniker he’s melded from her stage name, her online personality. It’s been all of, maybe, six minutes — a generous consideration for the timeframe — and he’s already managed to morph her porno pseudonym into a pet name with his soft murmur.

She’s so focused on the ironic way that such a delicate thing off his tongue makes something so violently carnal stir within her that the young woman doesn’t even notice that he’s been sat near her thighs for a solid second, unspeaking and untouching, besides the paste of his warm cheek beside the press of her hands.

It’s a suspiciously mischievous sort of silence, but Tiger is no secret-keeper, not when he pats over the back of her leg, a one-tap gesture, and rises to announce, one third amused and two-thirds smug, “Thumbnail.”

The admission is so crude and unexpected that it draws a peal of sputtering laughter from her, feigned indignation meshing with mirth as he rises from the floor, all cocky with an unfairly alluring curl that’s strayed from the rest and flopped to lay over his forehead.

“You want to use my ass as your thumbnail?”

Muted raspberry breaks its relaxed line to curve up, obviously self-satisfied and obviously unashamed. Y/N doesn’t think she’ll ever quite keep up with the casual nature of Harry’s mannerisms, not when he hums and his grin splits further, twisting around her to daub her jaw with a kiss.

“…And not my pretty face?” Y/N blinks.

“Last I checked—'' Harry tells her, fingers raking through her roots and palm cradling at her scalp in a way that coaxes chills to bud and roam down the nape of her neck. The digits twist her hair into a bun until his palm is squeezing at her hair all bunched like a flower blooming in reverse, “—You were here to be used and abused, per your request. Not to ask questions.”

Despite the way he cranes her neck back with the motion, the way it has her jaw unlatching and a surprised exhale full of want escaping, despite the way he drags his teeth down her neck in a line, nipping, Y/N manages to keep her voice impressively even.

“You don’t want my pretty face painted with your cum as the thumbnail?” she baits, throat bobbing on a swallow.

He bites.

At first, his lashline narrows a smidge in obvious inkling that the brazen words have affected him, but then he tips his head and his smug beam morphs more sluggish, more pleased than amused.

“You want my cum painting your pretty face?”

“Mm,” Y/N hums in agreement when he turns her head to paste a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Yeah? That’s what you want?”

His tone is suggestive as he manhandles her over onto the fuzzy rug she’d admired before things got all murky with arousal and …cinematic. Y/N twists in his grasp until he’s nudging her onto her knees with his hands.

And his voice is low, easy like a sigh, each note interlaced with nonchalance and seemingly effortless power, “Let’s see how good you suck cock.”

Before Harry shoves his waistband down, though, he stuffs a hand into his pocket and culls his phone. He gives her this look down from behind it, thumb tucked behind gray elastic. It’s this wordless, expressionless sort of seeking; all good? Y/N nudges with her chin, lashes fluttering. Tiger toggles over the screen one-handed, and her eyes flit to the uneven pull at his sweats — if only for a second — that showcases bare skin and the cut of a V-line on one side. As he nudges the sweats off to rest under his balls, the phone pings. It’s the sound of a notification — he’s recording.

His dick is pretty. Pretty in pink with a prominent vein on the underside and a soft dusting of neatly trimmed, dark pubic hair over his pelvic bone that his happy trail had foreshadowed, and his tip is a ruddy shade that matches the tint of his mouth. She’s seen his cock before, obviously, but ogling it in person rather than as a conglomeration of pixels is a different sort of experience. He’s always looked big on screen, the sheer size of him with a fist over his shaft always implying it. But he’s big. Big enough for two of her hands to cradle over his cock comfortably with the head peeking out from her grip, digits never quite meeting in the middle. Y/N spits into a palm before wrapping it over his shaft, eyes flickering up front under her lashes to meet the lens of the camera.

“You’re so big,” the young woman admits after a moment, irises bouncing from her grip to the phone looming over, and she drags her tongue over her other palm to cup over him with two like it’s proof.

And Harry strokes over the side of her scalp, almost like he’s wordlessly scratching a dog’s ears in praise, a soft, pleased huff escaping through his nostrils and his lips shaping over a smug sort of beam that never really unseals.

Almost tentatively, with her eyes still bouncing from the lens to his cock and back, Y/N leans forward and drags his tip over her tongue. Harry sighs in response, fingertips still hovering at her roots. She purses her lips and lets saliva dribble from her mouth onto his head messily, swiping over the wetness with her thumb, and then she strokes down his shaft with two hands as she wraps her lips over him and draws a circle with her tongue. The subtle, although sharp, inhale she earns in response to the motion has her batting her lashes up at the camera.

“You’re not shy at all, are you? Not in front of the camera,” Harry says after a moment.

He’s so obviously bridling a hiss when she drags her tongue up under his leaky tip, his front teeth lodging into the pillow of his bottom lip and brows furrowing. Despite the phone cradled over her face, the young woman still has enough room to observe his. Y/N bats her lashes coyly, pupils flitting back to the camera as her mouth opens to showcase the view of her hands working in gentle twists while she drags his cockhead over her tastebuds.

“…No, you’re not that shy, little girl that you were in the cafe at all.”

She seals her lips over his tip, hollows her cheeks, and hums.

“…All prim and proper,” the fingertips that’d scraped over the side of her scalp trail to the back of her head, “…Didn’t even wanna say you liked cum dripping out of you. Didn’t wanna let everyone know that you’re a little anal whore.”

The words coax her to clench over the plug.

“…S’okay, baby,” Harry tells her after a moment, “I like that you’re a whore on camera for me,”and then the hand that’d cradled over the back of her skull encourages her own palm to slowly unwrap and fall away as he curls it over his shaft to guide it’s aim.

Y/N pulls off, and Tiger smears the tip over her spit-slicked, swollen mouth. It parts, and Harry traces over the open seam of her lips like he’s applying lip gloss.

“Please,” the young woman says, mouthing over his tip, almost inaudible.

“Hm?”

“Please,” Y/N repeats, and the drag of his tip slides over her bottom lip on the s.

Harry inhales from above. He doesn’t immediately give her what she wants, instead opting to draw over her cupid’s bow as he tips his head, voice quiet and still somehow full of a dominant edge. “So polite. You wanna taste more of my cock?”

The young woman nods, eyes tipped up, and he smears his cockhead over her mouth again. Harry’s teeth nudge into the plush of his bottom lip before he directs, “Stick your tongue out for me. I’ll give you a little taste.”

And he does. He grazes her tongue with it the moment it’s on show, basking in her soft breaths puffing out against him and the sweet sight of her gaze, unwavering.

“S’that good?” Harry asks, mouth curling at the (currently) brazenly lewd young woman at his feet, “What you wanted?”

And she just nods up at him. Despite the way she wants more, the way she wants to close her lips around him and keep twisting her grasp to watch his seams split in ecstacy, Y/N motions lightly with her head. A little sound escapes the back of her throat when he drags the tip of his cock back over her top lip and sighs.

“You really are such a little whore, aren’t you?” Harry says, tracing along the open seam of her lips with the tip and dragging it over her tongue again, “Give me a pretty smile. Show me just how much you like it.“

His words melt off into a rumbly hum when, as he draws over the border of her bottom lip and takes his cock off her tongue, her pretty teeth slowly seep shut and the corners of her mouth form something absolutely overjoyed. Her head cocks, and she grins up at him. All innocuous too, if it weren’t for the head of a cock smearing over the edges of her smile. His thumb slinks out from the hold he’s got over his dick to graze with the pad at the shiny white of her top teeth.

“Good girl.”

Somewhere around there is when her teeth part and his thumb mingles onto her tongue. Then, the young woman wraps her lips over the digit and sucks. The tension of her cheeks hollowing over his finger in the silence is cut short with a ping — Harry turns the camera off and flings the phone somewhere in the direction of the bed. There’s no definitive thump behind her, so Y/N assumes the man makes it. She hums and pulls off of the digit with a pop and a giggle.

Dimples pluck alive beside his smile. “Something funny?”

“No,” the young woman clears her throat, the apples of her cheeks still emphasized and round with her apparent amusement, “Nothing. It’s just.” She blinks up at him, “…Surreal, sort of. Your dick’s just as pretty in person as it is on camera.”

Tiger cocks his head and swipes over her bottom lip with the tip of said dick. She’s quite good at stroking his ego.

“Thanks. That’s sweet, darling.”

A furrow works between his brows as her tongue peeks out to daub at the lingering head. “You watch a lot of my videos?”

And the admission comes almost hungry, with no remorse, “Mm. Touch myself to them.”

That’s when his brows crease more, when heat swells down through the trench of his tummy and teems up the underside of his balls, where they drive taut at the words.

“Christ.”

Blown jade bouncing from her lips to the contact of her own eyes and back. Eventually, he swallows and directs, “Tongue out.”

When she displays it for him, jaw wide, those shambles splinters of composure seemingly fuse. The Harry that emerges nearly gives her whiplash.

“You touch yourself to my videos?” Harry coos, and the words are coated with so much condescension that Y/N is sure she’d be humiliated in any other circumstance.

Her tongue twitches under his cockhead. The man looming over swipes that same, leaky tip over her taste buds, and his grin broadens into something like a borderline sadistic Cheshire cat. And then he’s leaning over a smidge, cock still angled over her outstretched tongue, opposite hand fondling under that, at her jaw, and squeezing at her cheeks.

“That is so—“ emphasizing the words with the slap of his tip against her tongue, Harry grits out, “—fucking—“ another tap that has her uselessly lolled tongue jolting and a garbled little sound wresting from the back of her throat, “—cute.”

Y/N blinks up at him, one hand uncurling slowly and falling away as he nudges the back of her head to swallow more of him in past her lips.

“Why don’t you use that hand and play with your little clit for me? The way you do when you’re watching me.”

She makes a muffled noise around him as he sinks in further, and her hand traipses between her poorly, poorly splayed thighs.

“That’s it,” Harry murmurs, though whether the praise is directed at the way the tips of her fingers pry between her legs or the way she blinks wetly over his cock as she takes more of him into her mouth, Y/N is unsure. “There’s a good girl. Look at me— yeah. Fuck.”

He holds onto either side of her head, long fingers splaying over her skull, and the young woman splutters when his tip prods at the back of her throat and teases at her gag reflex. The tip of her nose grazes his happy trail, so all in all, it’s a solid effort in one go. Harry holds her there for a moment, relishing in the squeeze of her throat over him as she fights sputtering more, and a throaty groan rips from his vocal chords before his fingers tangle into her hair. That’s when he yanks her off.

Her chest is already rolling in pants, and the way his palm collides with the fleshy area of her cheek nearly launches her lightheaded headspace into overload. The blow isn’t loud, and it doesn’t really hurt, but he does it a second time, palm grazing over the same fragment of skin. It’s the hand that doesn’t have any rings, and Y/N’s mouth curls up in borderline delirious bliss, teeth unsealed and lips swollen and saliva-daubed. Tiger coaxes a moan when he goes for it a third time. But this time, his hand snakes to palm over the column of her throat and squeeze.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” Harry tells her, thumb cruising over an inch of skin, “Such a slut for it.”

Her pulse thunders under his grasp. It’s almost like his touch pries the nearly animalistic giggle off her lips. She’s still beaming open-mouthed, and her voice is raw when she beckons, “Yeah—“

And then there’s a ragged gasp and subdued sort of gag, coated with surprise, when Tiger nudges her face forward and unceremoniously shoves his dick back down her throat, his brows pinched.

“Get that mouth back on my cock.”

Her hands find his thighs, just wavering over them, curling and unflexing as her eyes squeeze shut.

“Don’t close your eyes. Look up at me. Look up at me— there you go,” Harry cooes when, despite every instinct that coaxes every muscle in her face to clench and tense, Y/N follows his directions and blinks up at him through a watery sheen. “Shit.”

And then he’s hauling her off and she’s gasping for breath, only for a short moment before he slides back past her jaw until her chin is flush with his sac and he’s pulsing in the warm confines of her mouth. Her lashes flutter. A devious kind of laugh bubbles from him, breathy, and low, and short when the heels of her palms press into the sturdy muscle beneath his laurels. Except this time he doesn’t yank her all the way off for a third time. He holds her there for a second, swearing softly at the view, and then tugs her off until his tip’s on her tongue and pumps back in. It’s a subtle motion — testing, like he’s observing her reaction, really assessing her comfort levels with this. He does it a few more times, as gentle of a motion as it really can be until she squints her eyes shut and muzzles a cough, blinking up at him rapidly through the blur.

Harry swipes a thumb under her eye, where a rivulet leaks, praising almost in a whisper as she practically vibrates at his feet, “That’s it.”

Another second to gasp in air, and then he’s fucking her mouth, brushing her gag reflex with every drive forward and every pump out. Y/N sort of loses herself in it — in the fingertips burrowing into her roots, in the huffs and groans that escape him, in the warm muscle beneath her touch, in the way his dick slides down her throat. It’s quite nice. RideTheTiger is fucking her mouth, and it’s nice.

“Look at you,” Harry hums after a while, the hold on the back of her head firm, and she blinks at him all teary-eyed, gagging around him as her chin presses flush with his balls. “So sloppy. Made my nice joggers all wet.”

Drool pools down her chin, and strings of it dangle from his balls and sully the fabric further. She bats her lashes up at him, and tears slink off from her waterline. Her fingers flex and relax over his thigh, never quite loosening the tension there fully. The man swipes the thumb on his free hand under her eye, where inky black has smudged off from her lashes, and the lewd, left corner of his mouth tips up lopsidedly.

“You’re such a pretty girl when you’re making a mess,” and then, to nail the demeaning compliment home with the most heady, joyfully smug tone, “Yes you are, little bird.”

His sluggish grin morphs into a borderline pornographic lip-bite then, and he cranes his neck back with a throaty hum, fingers tensing and relaxing, before his digits ultimately tighten in her hair and coax the young woman off. She coughs like she hasn’t breathed in ages,

Y/N doesn’t know how she gets up to her feet. It’s a lightheaded clamber, coaxed by Harry’s fingers tugging at her hair, his hand on her arm, his definitive, “Get up.” Somehow, though, she manages, despite the fact that her jeans are still half-on, and Harry steadies her and makes her dizzy all at once when his mouth presses hungrily to hers. One hand cradles the side of her neck and the other braces her at the hip. It’s a heated kiss, like Tiger doesn’t mind that her chin is coated with spit, or that the same spit smears over his own jaw as their mouths connect. Y/N nearly trips over her own feet as he walks her, backwards, into the general direction of the bed. The mattress meets the backs of her knees and his hand (which has, since settling on her hip, mingled up her side and cupped over one of her tits) sends her toppling back against the sheets. Harry nearly snickers at her look of indignation. Instead though, he tucks his fingers up under her half-down denim and tugs until her pants are off and she finally, finally has the ability to spread her legs. He tosses those onto the rug, and Y/N watches Harry finish disrobing, kicking the gray sweats into a rumpled pile beside her jeans.

The camera is still rolling on the dresser, and it’ll keep rolling. It’ll keep rolling when he sinks his face between her thighs, it’ll keep rolling when he pulls the plug out and nudges his fingers in, when he slips his cock into her cunt and then, eventually, switches to her other hole. Or maybe it’ll go in an all different order. Tiger cradles her by the hips and repositions her roughly. The lens doesn’t catch the way she’s all shimmery between her legs with want from its angle, but Harry does, eyes glued there as his fingertips trail featherlight up her thigh and back down.

A crease works in between his brows like he’s contemplating something, and then he pats the same fragment of flesh he’d been caressing and instructs, “Flip over.”

Y/N tips over to her side and then rolls onto her tummy, but when she clambers onto her hands and knees Harry beckons, “Where are you going, little bird?” He sighs, warm palm grasping over her ankle and yanking her back towards the edge of the bed, just until Y/N is splayed and forced to shimmy her way back into a pretty arch. “Hm?”

His hand is still gripped over the joint when the other climbs up the back of her naked thigh, skin on skin petting softly there. “Where are you going, little girl?”

She’s going to implode. She nearly does when his colossal palms cup either cheek of her backside and spread. He hums like he’s pleased.

“Which hole should I fuck first…” Harry ponders aloud from behind, but it all feels sort of rhetorical when he nudges over her tightest, little hole, pressing like he’s teasing a breach with the tip of his digit.

She thinks he must be using his other hand, too, because the pad of his thumb drives a circle over her puffy, spit-slicked clit. The ring of muscle flutters.

“…Hm?”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shots #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #dom!harry x sub!reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #sub!reader #dom!harry

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shitswiftiessay · 5 months

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swifties are angry at joe alwyn for posting about gaza on taylor’s birthday, calling him “pathetic,” “manipulative,” and “evil.”

I wish I could tell you that this was all a joke, that these are all parody accounts, but they’re dead serious. and of course we get the conspiracy theory about HIS TEAM trying to make him look good, because anyone who comes online and says anything critical about taylor MUST be a member of joe alwyn’s PR team. 🙄

but yeah, swifties are convinced that joe was trying to SHADE taylor by posting about gaza on her birthday, because s hasn’t said or done shit regarding this issue. also, they literally cannot fathom that there is anything happening in the world that is MORE IMPORTANT than a billionaire’s birthday.

and these swifties really need to ask themselves: WHY does joe alwyn posting about gaza make them SO ANGRY? is it because they’re reminded that taylor has not done or said JACK SHIT about palestine because she’s too afraid to lose money by being too “controversial?”

“not to mention it’s a screenshot and it’s not even a donation link like…”

it’s a LINK TO AN ARTICLE and it’s still more than TAYLOR has ever posted?? y’all think he was trying to “shade” taylor on her birthday (even if he was, so what? she + her team + her stupid friends have been shading him SINCE APRIL) by bringing to attention her lack of care about palestine or really any issue that doesn’t directly affect her (or her “home state.”). and the fact is, taylor could VERY QUICKLY AND EASILY shut up the critics who say she hasn’t said or done enough regarding palestine, but she won’t. miss americana, the goth punk billionaire, who spent a whole documentary crying about how she wasn’t allowed to speak up on important issues, has suddenly become ALLERGIC to saying anything remotely political or controversial. and at some point you’re gonna have to ask yourself why.

#shit swifties say #parasocial relationships #joe alwyn #free joe alwyn from the psychotic swifties who stalk his every move #anti taylor swift #toxic swifties

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smileysuh · 1 year

Text

sapiosexual

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “You’re a beautiful, bright, young woman, and you’re agreeing to be a companion to some middle aged psych nut who hardly has enough time for you-” you both laugh a little at the way he refers to himself, “compensation is a must.”

cw/ tw. daddy kink/issues, size/shoulder/back kink, contractual relationship, unspecified age difference, unprotected sex, choking, semi bondage, multiple sex scenes, fingering, squirting, oral (m/f receiving), baby oil massage, praise, dirty talk, hair pulling, overstim, dacryphilia, slight orgasm denial, hand kink, etc... I pet names. his: daddy. hers: gorgeous, angel, darling, my love, pretty girl, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 18.6k

🍭 aus. psychologist au, non idol au, sugar daddy au, aged up/soft dom cheol, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. dont fuck your psychologist, fuck a psychologist... and try to get a cheque while you do it 👀 (sapiosexual: the attraction to intelligence and broad af shoulders)

1: Wednesday

“I’m here to meet someone- under the name Choi?”

The hostess nods politely. “Mister Choi has been expecting you, right this way.”

Your heart lurches in your chest at her words. While it makes sense that the man you’re meeting for your date had let the host know he’d have a plus one joining him, there’s something in the woman’s diction that suggests a certain kind of familiarity.

The restaurant you’re in is an expensive one, and the previous man you’d met through the online sugar dating website had made something of a show of being a part owner of a place such as this, treating the staff in a way that demanded obedience-

You really hope, for everyone’s sake, that the person you’re meeting tonight is much kinder than the last.

The hostess takes you through the main dining section of the establishment and to a more secluded area, where she motions with a hand to the one occupied table by the windows that overlook the city.

“Your server will come by for your drink order shortly,” she tells you, giving you a quick nod and something of a knowing smile before she returns to her post, allowing you to make the final distance to the table yourself.

The man sitting with his back to you hasn’t turned around, and you take a moment to collect yourself, swallowing thickly. Your eyes scan over his broad shoulders, taking in the pretty tweed suit, the colour of charcoal, and neatly styled black hair.

You take a deep breath and begin forward.

“Sorry I’m late,” you apologize as you reach the man you’ve been in contact with just under a week- “you know how traffic can be-”

Your words feel jumbled in your mouth as Mr. Choi stands to greet you- because, although you’d been expecting a handsome man, you hadn’t been expecting him to be godlike-

The photos he’d had on the sugar dating site had been ten out of tens, but the man in front of you is a scale breaker.

He’s even broader up close, and tall too- looking down at you with an amused expression, eyes practically twinkling-

“It’s alright,” he tells you smoothly, voice sexier than you could have ever imagined, “I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me too,” you breathe, blinking up at him, etching his angelic features into your brain-

“You look beautiful,” Mr. Choi says, taking in the dress you’d spent three hours picking out-

His eyes don’t linger anywhere in particular, they’re quick to move back up to your face, and part of you almost wishes he’d stared at your chest just a little longer-

“Thank you,” you say, remembering you’ve yet to respond to his compliment.

“Would you like to sit?” he asks next, and you realize you’ve been staring too long, quickly tearing your gaze from him to give a curt nod.

The two of you take your seats, and you adjust in your chair, letting out a shaky laugh. “I’m also sorry if I’m a little awkward- I feel like my social skills took a hit during the pandemic.”

The man in front of you nods. “That’s understandable. The aftereffects of global isolation during covid is something that’s going to be studied by psychologists in depth in the coming years. You’re not alone in your feelings, believe me.”

You blink, thinking through his words. “Thank you-” you stutter, “for the reassurance, I mean.”

“Of course,” he nods again. “I think you’ll find I can be very reassuring, if need be.”

Your skin tingles, and you can’t believe that you’d nearly let your best friend talk you out of this date.

‘Psychologists can be dangerous!’ Seungkwan had insisted, ‘One moment you think he’s your boyfriend, the next he’s hypnotized you to cover up a murder-’

You’d told him to stop rewatching Hannibal.

But you have to admit… Mr. Choi, or Seungcheol, as he’d called himself when he’d first messaged you, he definitely looks like Hannibal.

Broad, handsome, tweed suit and all-

“I can see you’re thinking hard about something,” the man sitting across from you notes.

“Sorry, I was just-” you bite at your lip, “was just thinking that you’re probably really good at your job.”

His brows raise at this, and then he’s smiling, “Oh?”

“Yeah, you erm- you have a really calming voice and presence, and I mean- obviously you know what you’re talking about-”

“Are you in the market for a psychologist?”

“No-” you answer quickly, “I mean, I don’t think so- that’s not why I matched with you at least.”

The amused smile remains on his face, and it’s making it hard for you to look at him-

He keeps his gaze so fixed on you, and he exudes confidence on top of the calm-

Confidence that’s making your heart thump louder and louder in your chest-

“Hello, Mr. Choi,” the arrival of your waiter breaks the building tension you’re feeling. The question “How has your evening been so far?” confirms that Seungcheol knows the staff, and the pleasant way in which he responds tells you that you’re on a date with a good man.

After a brief back and forth, Mr. Choi orders himself an Old Fashioned, and you ask for a gin and tonic.

Then, you’re once more alone with the man whose gaze is enough to have your pussy clenching with interest-

“I saw you were new to the site,” Seungcheol notes, and you can’t believe he’d bothered to look for that information on your profile, let alone remember it. “How’s your experience been so far?”

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding. “If I’m being honest, I talked to one person for a while, and when we met, he turned out to be- just- not a good person. So when you favourited me, and I thought you looked nice, I told myself it would be better to meet up in person without too much back and forth first.”

“That sounds logical,” he agrees. “I’m sorry your first experience wasn’t what you thought it would be, but there is a silver lining, you’re here now.”

“I’m here now,” you echo with a smile, and the waiter returns with your beverages.

Seungcheol had invited you for drinks and dessert. Seungkwan had insisted that meant drinks and sex, but your view of things is proved to be correct when Mr. Choi orders the ‘dessert tasting menu’ and the waiter scurries off again.

“Should we make a toast?” you ask, allowing your eyes to trail over Seungcheol’s handsome face- his strong brow and pretty lips-

“We should,” he confirms, grabbing his glass and lifting it, “what would you like to toast to?”

“Being here now.”

“To being here now.” Seungcheol allows the lip of his glass to clink gently against your own before bringing it to his mouth, and you each drink to the moment.

“So,” you say when you set your cup down, “why drinks and dessert instead of dinner?”

“Dinners can be long, and full of expectations,” he tells you. “Drinks and dessert allows you to leave earlier, if you’d like to.”

“You seem like the kind of man who has everything figured out,” you muse.

The side of his mouth quirks into a charming half smile, and he leans forward slightly in his chair, assessing you with dark eyes- “Does that excite you?”

“Yes-” the word slips out before you can stop it.

The man in front of you leans back, satisfied.

“What, exactly, are you looking for right now?” he prompts. “Your bio was… somewhat vague.”

“I guess-” you take a sip of your drink. “I guess it depends on who it is.”

“How about you start by telling me your thought process behind creating an account,” he suggests.

You’re momentarily distracted by the way his thumb rubs up and down the side of his cup- dragging through droplets of condensation gathered on the glass-

“My best friend loves Marilyn Monroe,” you find yourself saying.

This is clearly not the answer Seungcheol had expected, as he quirks that inquisitive brow of his at your words, and you’re quick to continue.

“His favourite movie of hers is Gentlemen Prefer Blondes- and I’m not kidding, he’s been bleaching his hair since the tenth grade because of it- and there’s this quote- something like- ‘it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor man.’ And I just sort of thought- I’m tired of putting a lot into relationships with people who give nearly nothing in return. At least with something like this- I’d be guaranteed something- you know?”

“It sounds like you’ve spent a lot of your life trying to make other people happy,” he notes smoothly. “I can understand why you’d want to be on the receiving end. Everyone deserves reciprocation.”

He pauses, swirling his glass, but you can tell there’s something else on his mind, and you wait on the edge of your seat for more.

“From what you’ve said,” his thumb runs up the glass again, “it sounds to me like you’re looking for a contractual type of situation, moreso than a verbal agreement. Something with that added stability.”

“That’s correct,” you nod.

The last man hadn’t ever brought up contracts or boundaries or any of the things that are mentioned when you’d looked up what sugar babying entails.

You’re enthralled by the professional way Mr. Choi is handling himself, and you’re enjoying his crystal clear communication.

“What-” you lick your lips, “what are you looking for?”

“As you know, I’m a psychologist,” he states. “The job comes with a lot of responsibility. I take care of a number of people with quite severe conditions, and unfortunately, regardless of my intentions, this means I’ve had less time and energy to give to people in my own life.”

He pauses to take a breath and a sip of his whisky before continuing.

“I had a fiance for a time, but it became clear to me that she wanted a child. At the time, I wasn't ready to give up my work to be present in the way a developing mind would need. I’ve been looking for a sugar baby who would understand my lifestyle. Someone to meet with once or twice a week, who would provide happy company and the emotional closeness all human beings desperately need, without some of the… expectations that traditional relationships have. Does this sound like something that could interest you?”

You find yourself quickly nodding.

“Good,” he smiles warmly at you. “I’d love to explore the exact details of a contract over drinks, and we can choose a day to do that, but for now, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to switch the topic and focus on you a little more.”

“On me?” you blink-

Mr. Choi’s grin widens, and the warmth meets his eyes. “Yes, you. I think it’s safe to say we’re both physically attracted to each other, but I want to know more about who you are, inside that pretty body of yours.”

You can feel your skin heating from his compliment, and you avert your gaze, grabbing at your drink to take a sip and cool yourself. “What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with the things that make you happiest.”

2: Thursday

“Look who finally decided to answer,” your best friend sighs loudly when you put him on speaker, and you can imagine his classic Seungkwan eye roll.

“I was sleeping,” you tell him, which only succeeds in earning you a scoff.

“And I have been waiting for details about your date since last night!”

“I sent you a text saying it was good!”

“And then you put your phone on silent you whore!” your best friend screams, making you laugh at his antics- then his voice dips. “Did you fuck him?”

“No, of course not-”

“You sound like you’re lying.”

“I’m not, I promise-” you roll onto your back and look up at your ceiling, letting out a breath. “Drinks and dessert literally meant drinks and dessert.”

“Did he at least- I don’t know, feed you some of the dessert?”

“No.”

“Oh.” The line is quiet for a moment. “Well that’s anti-climactic.”

You laugh. “First you wanted me going on dates with sugar daddies, then you were weird about Seungcheol, now you’re wishing I had fucked him-”

“Well- did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Was he hot?”

You groan. “So fucking hot you don’t even know-”

“Then I do wish you’d fucked him- you’re my best friend, and you deserve to get laid,” Seungkwan says plainly. “Also- I was only weird about this Seungcheol guy because he’s a therapist-”

“Psychologist.”

“Same thing- the point is, he’s a guy with power and a brain- that can be a deadly combination.”

“I thought I told you to stop watching Hannibal,” you smile, enjoying the way Seungkwan turns everything into life or death.

He scoffs at your words, disregarding them. “So tell me about your date.”

“Like I said, it was good. I got there, we ordered drinks, he’s obviously like- super smart. We talked a little bit about why we’re on the site-”

“Why is he on the site? If he’s hot, rich, and smart?” Seungkwan asks. “Shouldn’t he be with- I don’t know… someone his own age? How old was he again?”

“Mid to late thirties- and there’s a reason for it actually. He mentioned a fiance who wanted kids- I think women ‘his age’ are all looking for a family, but he’s very… invested in his work,” you explain.

“Oh. Huh.” You listen to the cogs in Seungkwan’s brain turning. “So- I guess he just wants a sugar baby to work around his busy schedule?”

“He’s looking for a companion-” you say, “but, you know, someone who can handle the fact that his work comes first.”

“Right.” A beat, then; “So did you guys talk money?”

“Seungkwan!”

“What!?” he yells back. “Quit beating around the bush!”

“He didn’t just- whip a wad of cash out and give it to me,” you laugh. “He paid for everything of course, and we agreed to discuss a contract over drinks-”

“When?”

“Actually-” you look down at your phone, which has just buzzed, scanning the new text. “Coincidently, he’s texting me now.”

“Oooh! What’s he saying?!”

“He said, ‘I really enjoyed your company last night. Would you like to join me for drinks tomorrow at eight?’”

“Wow, this dude works fast- are you sure you didn’t suck him off or anything?”

“Seungkwan!”

“I just mean- two dates in three days- this is fast.”

“Yeah well,” you shrug while texting out a confirmation response for Seungcheol, “if you’d seen Mr. Choi in person, you’d be hoping things go fast too.”

“Is he really that sexy? This isn’t just- your old man kink?”

“I dont have an old man kink-”

“Sure you don’t.”

You groan. “Seungkwan, just trust me. This man-” you swallow thickly, “he could choke me out- and I’d say thank you daddy.”

“Right, but let’s hope he doesn’t though.”

3: Friday

Part of you isn’t surprised that Seungcheol has a study in his home, but another part of you wonders if this man is really someone you should be entertaining, with his shelves of psychology texts and autobiographies written by renowned people in his field- and the framed degrees and papers of certification-

Seungcheol is the real deal; it’s clear as day and reflected in his home.

He gives you a tour of the main floor, moving from the study to the dining room, and despite your ardent attempt at listening- it’s hard to focus.

If he’d been godlike in the charcoal tweed suit when you’d first met him- well, you don’t even know how to describe how well he fits into a plain white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose strong, bulky forearms- and then there’s the way the material stretches over his deliciously broad shoulders every time he turns his back to you-

“Now that I’ve given you a small tour, why don’t you take a seat,” he says as you enter his kitchen. “And I’ll grab us drinks. What are you feeling? Wine, water, beer, champagne-”

“Whatever you think is best,” you tell him, a little overwhelmed by the effect his home is having on you-

The effect he is having on you.

“I think I’d like to give you champagne,” he says, turning his back to you to open his fridge.

You find yourself nearly drooling at the brief moments you’re able to gawk at his shoulders again- and when he faces you, your eyes immediately zero in on his hands as they begin to fiddle with the bottle-

“Has anyone ever talked you through opening a bottle of champagne before?” he asks.

Your eyes meet briefly and you feel your skin heat when you admit, “not really- is there a specific way to do it?”

“I’m not sure if there’s one specific way,” Seungcheol chuckles a little, looking down at his task. “At ceremonies, sometimes they’ll use a sword and knock the top of the neck clean off- but for our purposes, and to avoid breaking anything with the cork if it shoots off, I prefer utilizing the cork cage,” he runs his fingers across the metal contraption on top of the bottle. “The trick is to unwind it most of the way, but keep it on so when you manuever the cork up-” his thumb runs along the seem, working at it- “it pops,” there’s a loud sound, “but it gets caught by the cork cage, and then, both are easily removed.”

He’d done the motion so professionally- a man who’s opened many a champagne bottle in his time.

Seungcheol seems to be an expert of everything - a true wealth of knowledge - and it’s one of the sexiest things you’ve ever experienced.

You watch him pour two glasses of the bubbly liquid, and then he gingerly slides one across the marble island countertop, “I think you’ll enjoy this.”

He watches you with an amused expression while you raise the champagne to your lips, and when your eyes widen at the taste, he grins.

“It’s really good,” you say, toying with the stem of your glass.

Now it’s your turn to watch him take a sip- and you’re blown away by how sexy he can be while simply drinking- his adam’s apple bobbing-

You wanna lick his neck.

You wanna lick his neck so bad-

“Should we get down to business?” he asks.

You wanna get down on something- and it’s not business.

“Er- yes, we should,” you agree, shifting the way you’re seated on the bar stool at his counter-

Your panties are sticking to your core and it’s a little uncomfortable-

You have no idea how this night is going to pan out, no idea if you’ll actually end up in his bed- so you’ve worn a beautiful, silky, matching set- its one drawback is the way the material sticks to you when you’re even slightly aroused- and you’ve been aroused since the moment Seungcheol opened the door to his home and invited you in.

“Since this is a contract we’re making together, I held myself back from writing one up,” he explains. “I was thinking we could discuss it verbally, and I’ll write up a copy of what we’ve talked about after you go home tonight-”

You feel your expression fall a little and Seungcheol pauses, expert eyes assessing you.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No,” you assure him, swallowing thickly and averting your gaze, “that sounds like a good idea.”

There are a few more moments of silence, and then Seungcheol rests both hands on the countertop, leaning forward, voice dipping when he says, “Darling, as much as I’d love for you to stay over tonight, I promised myself I wouldn’t fuck you until the third date.”

Your skin feels electrified, and you gawk at the gorgeous man, who looks down at you with an amused grin.

You nearly shock yourself when the words “why not?” tumble past your lips, and his affectionate smile widens at your question.

“We’ve hardly discussed expectations,” he answers smoothly. “It would be… unwise for me to skip those important steps, to give you time to consider your options.”

“My options?”

“I am older than you,” he points out, “and there’s still a chance you might decide you want someone who can give you more of his time. I want you to be sure about all of this.”

“I am sure,” you insist.

“You think you are,” he muses, bringing his champagne to his lips, “but until you see a finalized document, you shouldn’t be agreeing to anything.”

“You won’t hurt me-” you tell him, “I trust you.”

“Although we only just met,” he points out. “If you trust me at all, trust in this process, okay, Sweetheart?”

You swallow any words of insistence that threaten to bubble up out of you, nodding and taking a sip of your own drink.

“So,” he lets out a sigh, “we discussed a few of my expectations when we first met, do you remember what they were?”

“You were looking for a companion of sorts, who could manage you being at work frequently,” you respond, feeling pleased when he nods and smiles at you. “Someone to meet up with once or twice a week.”

“Very good, Angel,” he praises you. “While it’s implied, I’d like to solidify what you might call a key condition.”

You’re practically on the edge of your seat, waiting for him to continue, your interest piqued.

“Any contract you’d sign would come with a loyalty clause.” He pauses for a moment, eyes searching your own. “Do you understand what that entails?”

“I think so,” you nod. “It would be an agreement that while I’m seeing you, I wouldn’t be entertaining anyone else. We’d be exclusive.”

“That’s my smart girl,” he smiles. “Even though I don’t have much time for you, I’d provide for you to live comfortably when I’m not around, in the hopes that, when we are together, we’re both committed to making the best of it.”

You love the way that sounds.

“Which brings me to my next point,” he continues, “monthly allowances. I’ll cover your food, rent, utilities- anything you need, and provide extra spending money for clothing, jewelry, etcetera.”

“Wow, that’s-” you feel your eyes widening, “that’s very generous of you.”

“It’s really not,” he insists. “You’re a beautiful, bright, young woman, and you’re agreeing to be a companion to some middle aged psych nut who hardly has enough time for you-” you both laugh a little at the way he refers to himself, “compensation is a must.”

You have to stop yourself from happily chirping an ‘if you say so daddy’ at the man that is so close to becoming everything you’ve ever wanted for yourself-

“On top of our one-on-one interactions,” Seungcheol says, “I’d also like for you to accompany me to professional events, but I’d need you to be discreet. On top of a loyalty clause, I might have you sign a nondisclosure act- how does that sound to you?”

You consider it for a moment. “I’m not the type to go tell people about my personal life- and other than my best friend, no one even knows I was on the sugar site-”

“Your friend who loves Marilyn Monroe and bleaches his hair?” Seungcheol asks with an amused expression.

“You remembered-” you laugh, heart warming to know how many details he’s held onto in regard to your first meeting.

“The NDA can exclude your close friend, we all need a confidant.”

“Thank you,” you swallow, “I think- if it allows me to talk to Seungkwan, signing a NDA would be okay.”

“Perfect,” Seungcheol nods, drinking the last of his champagne. “We’ve covered a few of the most important parts of an agreement, so I think maybe now is a good time to grab another important document that I need you to look over.”

“Oh?”

“Stay here for a moment, I’ll be right back,” Seungcheol assures you, flashing you a quick wink before exiting the kitchen.

It’s almost torturous to be alone anywhere in Seungcheol’s home without him, and part of you is inclined to follow him around like a lost, needy puppy-

You finish your drink while you wait, taking breaths to calm yourself, afterall, he’d said he wouldn’t be fucking you tonight- therefore, there’s not much for you to worry about.

Seungcheol returns shortly, holding a dark leather file folder, which he offers to you.

“What’s this?” you ask, not wanting to open it without being prompted to- but your curiosity is as high as ever.

“Separate from our sugar agreement, this is a bdsm contract. It has a list of kinks and other things, as well as a section for you to fill out, detailing what you’re comfortable - and more importantly - what you’re uncomfortable with. I’d like you to take it home, look it over, and if you have any questions, let me know.”

“Right-” you stand up, holding the file folder to your chest-

Any words that you were thinking of saying disappear when you look up at Seungcheol, once more marveling at your size difference and how beautiful he is-

“You’re easily distractable,” he grins, pinching at your chin gently, “aren’t you, Angel?”

“Yes sir,” you mumble-

Easily dazed too.

“My driver will take you home now,” the (much too sexy) psychologist tells you. “His name is Seokmin, you’ll probably have to remind him to give you his number. He’ll be available to you from now on if you need to go anywhere.”

“You have a driver?” you blink- shocked at how he’s able to afford all of this-

You realize he must come from old money- and you’re appalled you hadn’t noticed it before.

He doesn’t carry himself in the way a man who’d made a name for himself would- he has an air of confidence- a confidence that runs deep and is backed up by family money.

“Yes, darling,” Seungcheol grins, “we have a driver.”

4: Saturday

You’ve always loved having movie night with your best friend, but tonight, he’s not interested in movies. Seungkwan is easily distractable - a little like you, you suppose - and when you’d arrived over an hour ago, he’d immediately insisted on knowing every detail about your experience with the man he now refers to as ‘Psych daddy.’

On top of being distractable, Seunkwan is easy to please, and you manage to avoid mentioning the BDSM contract for a good long while, instead focusing on Seungcheol’s hot driver, who Seungkwan finds on instagram within five minutes.

“No way- first Psych Daddy is a ten out of ten, and now his driver is hot too?” Seungkwan bellows while mad scrolling through Seokmin’s profile. “Are you sure we’re not in some weird porn dream? You’re not gonna get tag teamed are you?”

“Seungkwan!” you scream, gently smacking him across the shoulder in shock.

“We were both thinking it!” he insists, shoving you back.

“I’ll have you know that we were not both thinking it,” you state with just as much certainty.

“But you mentioned how nice the guy was when he dropped you off last night and we called for like five minutes before you hung up on me to go to bed!”

“Yeah, in the context that Seungcheol is really nice to everyone that works for him, despite being-”

“One of the youngest, sexiest psych daddies in the city, yeah, yeah-” Seungkwan waves his hand, “Stop rubbing it in.”

“Have you been researching my boyfriend again?” you ask, thoroughly amused.

“Boyfriend?” Seunkwan eyes you up and down, sneering. “Is that what we call dom daddies now?”

“If he makes you sign a loyalty clause and a NDA, I think I can call him whatever I want, can’t I?” you point out. “And you avoided my question- you’ve definitely been googling Cheol again.”

“Been googling myself to pictures of pysch daddy-” Seungkwan says suggestively before asking, “He made you sign an NDA?”

“Not yet,” you sigh, “and don’t worry, we’ve discussed it and it will exclude you- I can tell you anything I want to.”

“Shit, did you tell him my name? Do you think he’ll accept me as a patient if he knows I’m your best friend?”

“Since when do you need a psychologist?” you laugh.

“Uh,” Seungkwan’s brows raise, “Bestie, have you seen my life? I definitely need someone to confide in who knows what the fuck he’s talking about.”

“Ouch,” you touch your heart, pretending to be wounded. “Since when did you not like crack gremlin advice?”

“Since you put down your crack gremlin hat and became a sugar baby to a hot psychologist,” Seungkwan sighs, taking one last look at Seokmin’s grinning face before he puts his phone down and focuses entirely on you. “But go back a few steps and talk to me about this loyalty clause- psych daddy sends you home with a ton of papers to sign, huh?”

“More than you could imagine.”

Your best friend looks you up and down with suspicion, brow raising in a silent prompt for more info.

When you remain quiet, Seungkwan sighs. “Fine, don’t tell me,” but after a beat, he asks, “Was it a sex list or something?”

You’re always stunned by how intuitive your best friend can be.

Upon reading your reaction, Seungkwan’s eyes widen and he grabs at your arm, nearly jumping with excitement. “No way!” he yells in your ear. “He did send you home with a sex list! Show me, show me, show me!”

You look to your bag and before you can even reach for it, Seungkwan is darting past you and retrieving the papers. “Holy shit-” he breathes, scanning the document with eyes full of something like perverted excitement. “A checklist for kinks?”

“Yup.”

“Choking, yes. Spanking, fuck yeah- bondage-” he grins at you, “looks like someone’s a little slut for psych daddy.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, reaching for the papers, but he launches himself off the couch to evade you. “If you’re gonna be like this, I don’t want to show you.”

“Fine, I’ll be nice,” Seungkwan says, but he’s still reading the list, and his voice is lacking any real sincerity. “Okay so most of these are straightforward-”

“You watch way too much porn,” you sigh.

He practically growls at you. “As I was saying- most of these are straightforward, and you’ve filled out the ones I would have expected you to- but some of these are things even I have never heard of- like, what the fuck is…” he carefully sounds out the next word, “Quirofilia?”

“Honestly- the ones I didn’t know about, I just sort of skipped over, hoping maybe you would know- but…” you can’t stop the sly grin that works its way onto your lips, “I guess Cheol did say I could call him if I had any questions…”

“At this point, it’s almost like this list is purposefully vague on some kinks-” Seungkwan sighs, joining you on the couch again. “I bet Psych daddy has been waiting for you to call him for extra clarification.”

“We could google it,” you point out.

“Definitely not,” Seungkwan says quickly. “Call daddy, and put him on speaker.”

“Oh, so he’s just daddy now?” you tease, pulling out your phone.

“Call him.”

“Hmm… maybe I’ll text,” you decide. “He could be busy.”

“That’s no fun,” Seunkwan whines, pouting out his lower lip.

“Too bad,” you tell him, typing in a quick message. “I said, ‘hey, whenever you have time, I have a few questions about some of the terms on the kink list.’”

“Add a smiley face,” your friend urges, “so he knows it’s like- good questions.”

You add a happy emoji, and hit send. Then you put your phone down, reaching for the papers from Seungkwan.

“He might not answer anytime soon-” you say- just as your phone buzzes the familiar ringtone that you’ve only given to one person.

Both you and Seungkwan stare at your ringing phone, and then your best friend grins at you.

“This guy is so whipped for you it’s crazy- are you sure you haven’t sucked his dick?”

“Oh my god stop!” you groan, “and be quiet or I can’t answer-”

“I’ll be quiet,” he insists, pretending to lock his mouth shut and throw away the key.

With one final warning glare, you turn your focus to your phone, answering the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, gorgeous,” comes Seungcheol’s unmistakable smooth drawl- god, he makes your mouth fucking water- “So you got around to looking at the kink list.”

He’s so god damned confident- and when you look up at Seungkwan, you see he’s just as shook by your new lover as you are.

“Uh, yes,” you clear your throat. “There are just a few terms I’m unfamiliar with, and- I know I could look them up, but you said to call you if I had questions-”

“Of course Angel, I’d love to help talk you through it.”

Your panties are wet.

They’re wet, and your best friend is nearly falling off the couch from how seductive your new sugar daddy is.

“What kinks are you unfamiliar with?” Seungcheol prompts, and you can practically hear him smiling at the way he’s taking your breath away on a freaking phone call-

“There’s this one,” your eyes scan over the word Quirofilia, and you do your best not to mangle it the way Seungkwan had when you relay it to Cheol.

“Quirofilia,” he repeats, teaching you the proper pronunciation with the calm, pleasant tone you’re starting to fall in love with. “It’s another term for a hand kink.”

Now it’s your turn to echo, and you say “A hand kink,” while blinking at your friend.

“Yes, angel,” Seungcheol chuckles on the other end. “If you check off the box for receiving, you’d indicate that you’d be more than comfortable with me touching you frequently. For lack of a better term, it goes hand in hand with a number of other kinks- spanking and choking for example, or finger sucking.”

“And for giving?” you question, having already checked off a yes for what he’s just described.

“For giving…” he clears his throat, “well, you’d let me pay for you to get manicures- maybe let me choose the colours and styles-” there’s another pause, then “I have to admit, I did notice that you have nice hands the first night we met.”

“Really?” your heart lurches in your chest and Seungkwan grabs a pillow to bite while listening in on a conversation that’s getting sexier and sexier- “What did you like about them?”

“They’re smaller than mine, for one. I’m sure we can both imagine how pretty they’d look wrapped around something… substantially bigger.”

Your best friend spasms, practically screaming into the pillow, and you can’t help the way your own jaw drops at the statement-

Are you about to have phone sex with Cheol in front of your best friend?

Do you need to get a room?

“We can discuss it in detail when I see you next,” Seungcheol says, cutting off your horny thoughts. “Are there any other kinks you’ve had trouble with?”

“I mean-” part of you wants to go through the whole list and pretend not to know things just to keep him on the phone- “if we’re going to discuss these all in detail when I see you next- maybe I should just wait till then?”

You can’t believe you’re cock blocking yourself just because Seungkwan is here.

“We can do that,” Seungcheol says smoothly.

In the background, you hear someone say his name, and you find yourself asking, “did I catch you at a bad time?” suddenly worried you’ve interrupted something important.

“Of course not, angel, I wouldn’t have called you if I couldn’t step away for a few minutes.” There’s a pause then, “I’m at a conference this weekend, flew out this morning.”

“Oh,” your heart deflates a little.

“I was tempted to invite you,” Seungcheol says, calming the uneasiness you’re feeling. “But seeing as you’ve not signed anything, and I already had plans with colleagues, I figured this wouldn’t be the best first trip to take you on.”

This excites you again. “Do you have somewhere specific in mind for a first trip?”

“Somewhere warm,” he answers smoothly, a small chuckle following a moment later. “Anyways, I won’t be that available tomorrow, you caught me at a good moment tonight.”

“Well… will you be back on Monday?” you question.

Another small laugh, then, “Are you that eager to see me, gorgeous?”

“Maybe.” You eye Seungkwan who’s still screaming into the pillow. “But I mean- I remember what you said about needing a sugar baby that fits your schedule, so, I don’t want to pressure you to see me the day you get back from a work conference-”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, angel,” his smooth voice calms your anxieties. “I do have quite a busy week, a few things aren’t pinned down yet, can I let you know when I have more details?”

“Yes, of course-” you bite at your lip. “I should let you get back to your colleagues- thanks for calling me and talking me through uh- Quirofilia.”

You hear him take a deep breath, and then, Seungcheol lets out something like a groan- “I’m tempted to ask what you checked off for it.”

His words go straight to your pussy and after a moment of silence you ask, “Do you want me to tell you?”

“No,” he responds, “It will give me something to think about tonight if you don’t tell me.”

“Okay,” you grin at the way he’s toying with himself- ego fuelled by the idea of him thinking about you- “I’m excited to talk more about this with you when I see you next.”

“Me too, angel.”

“Have a great time at your conference daddy.”

You slap a hand over your mouth, eyes widening at the way the term of endearment just slipped out of you-

Seungcheol lets out a deep sigh that betrays how much the word has affected him, and he sounds less composed than normal when he says, “Thank you, precious, enjoy your evening.”

You hang up, and as soon as you have, Seungkwan goes ballistic, practically pouncing at you while screaming, “That was too sexy! You guys are too sexy, what the hell!?”

Laughing at his antics is easy- pretending your panties aren’t ruined is another story.

5: Sunday

The ringtone that makes your whole body tingle with anticipation is becoming more and more familiar, and you practically launch yourself across your bed to answer your phone.

“Hi.”

A small chuckle, and a breath, then, “Hey you.”

“How's your conference going?” you ask, having not expected to hear from Cheol today.

“Good. It’s over, we finished the last meet up just before dinner. What are you up to?”

You grin to yourself, playing with the book in your lap. “I’m reading your most recent publication.”

“My most recent publication?” you can hear him smiling now too, and you enjoy the way he teases your choice of phrase. “Since when were you going out and buying my books, darling?”

“Since I saw how many you’ve done- when you showed me your library. I went out this morning and got two.”

“You could have asked, and I would have given you them for free… with a detailed note from the author.”

“I was eager to begin reading,” you admit. “And you’re so busy- I’m still not sure when I’m seeing you next.”

“That’s actually why I called. I took a look at my schedule, and I’ve got options for you.”

“Ooh! I love options.”

Another smile you can hear through the phone, and your heart beats a little faster.

“I can see you alone on Friday, it’s the earliest day I have available- but if you’d like, you can accompany me to a get-together with my work colleagues on Wednesday. I know you haven’t signed any papers and we haven’t discussed anything in detail yet but… I have a good feeling about you, angel, and I’d enjoy having you there.”

“Then of course I’ll go with you to the get-together,” you announce, grinning like a school girl at the inklings of praise he bestows on you.

“That’s wonderful news, gorgeous.” - you love it when he calls you pretty pet names - “I’m sorry that this call can’t be longer- but I’ll see you Wednesday- and I’m sure I’ll find a reason to call you before then.”

“Yes, please.”

He laughs, and the sound has your core buzzing with interest- how the hell is Seungcheol so sexy without even trying?

“Have a good night, angel, and don’t read too much of my book- they’re all depressing.”

“They’re informative,” you insist. “Have a wonderful night Cheol, and thanks for calling.”

6: Monday

“Hi.”

You’ve gotta stop answering your phone with a full grin- but every time Seungcheol calls you, you can’t help but get warm and fuzzy all over.

“Hi, angel.”

And wet. Wet all over.

Wet where it counts.

“I was just thinking about you,” you confess, toying with the page of his book that you’ve been reading.

“Funny, I was just thinking about you,” he responds, “and I have been, all day. It’s quite distracting actually.”

“Really?” Your heart leaps again.

“I was thinking about getting you something to wear to the party on Wednesday- was going to get Seokmin to drop it off at your place, but then… I realized how much I’d rather see you and give you the dress in person, to see your reaction.”

This man gives you full on heart palpitations- and it takes everything in you to clear your throat and ask, “so does this mean I’ll see you before Wednesday, or?”

“I mean… I don’t want to assume you’re free every night- but if you’re not otherwise busy tomorrow-”

“I always have time for you daddy,” you smile, “and I’ll sign a contract to prove it.”

He lets out a shaky breath, and you love that you’re having an effect on him. “That’s good to hear sweetheart. I’ll move a few things around. How does seven sound?”

“Seven sounds perfect.”

“And it will be a longer stay this time. I know I kept our last interaction at my home brief- but if you bring all the documents I gave you, we can…” he clears his throat, “discuss them in full, tomorrow, if you’d like”

“I’d love that,” you admit.

“Seokmin will be at your place to pick you up at seven then, angel. I can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait either.”

7: Tuesday

Seungcheol is a man who strives for perfection. From his home and work, all the way down to the pretty present he’s gotten for you, the box wrapped in a golden bow-

And when you open your gift to reveal an expensive red fabric just itching to be touched- you think there’s a possibility that you might very much be in love with the psychologist already.

“It’s beautiful-” you breathe, pulling the silky garment from its box to assess the length and style.

“You were wearing red when we first met,” Seungcheol tells you, “I thought to myself that I’d never seen such a gorgeous girl- when I invited you to the gettogether tomorrow, I knew there was only one colour I truly wanted to see you in.”

Your heart is having palpitations, you swear-

“Do you-” you swallow thickly, looking up at him, “do you want me to try it on for you now?”

It’s his turn to take a shaky breath, and after a stagnant pause, he shakes his head, “No. I think I’d like to be surprised tomorrow- besides, after we get done looking over the papers and contracts, I feel as if we’d both prefer you to be taking off clothes rather than putting them on.”

He’s right about that.

You only wish you’d known about his affinity for the color red before you’d chosen a black lingerie set, knowing that tonight would be the night he’d finally strip you bare-

You can’t wait for him to fuck you. You honestly can’t- and all these paper signings- they’re just a formality for you.

As far as you’re concerned, Cheol is the one- or at least, he could be the one.

Or maybe he’s just the ‘for now,’ but regardless, for now, you want to be ravenously fucking him-

“My easily distractable darling,” he gently pinches at your chin, pulling you from your dirty thoughts. “Let’s see the papers.”

After putting the dress back in its box, you grab the purse you’d arrived with. It’s large enough to hold the folder with the documents, which you pull out next, setting it down on Seungcheol’s kitchen counter.

“I see you’ve printed out the other documents I sent you since we last met,” he says, and you can hear the pride in his voice that you’d gone a step above and beyond what he’d asked of you.

After your last date, wherein you’d gotten the kink list, he’d sent you an email with a link to a contractual pdf. Once you’d gone over the contract in detail on your computer, you’d printed it out, eager to sign your name- but you’d been patient, knowing he’d probably want to witness your signature being jotted down on the dotted line.

“I’m ready to sign them,” you tell him, also pulling a pen out of your purse-

“Eager angel,” he smiles, taking the seat on the barstool next to yours. “Are you sure you don’t want to read it all over one more time?”

“I’m sure,” you tell him, angling your body towards his and fiddling with your pen.

“Alright,” Seungcheol nods, rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down, his forearms flexing. “How about you let me sign first, then you can do your own signature.”

You hold out your pen, which he accepts, and you watch the way he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose when he looks down at the contract. His eyes scan over the document, and a moment later, the ballpoint pen is gliding languidly across the dotted line, his signature solidified in a binding agreement.

“There we go,” he says smoothly, holding the pen out for you to take.

Within seconds, two signatures are on the contract, and your heart is racing just a little faster in anticipation of what’s to come next.

“And now to look over your kink list,” Seungcheol breathes, moving the signed papers to the side.

Your heart lurches when he picks up the sheet you’ve filled in, and you stay silent while his eyes move over each line of information.

“As much as these all interest me,” he says, “I’m pleased to see you’ve checked off giving and receiving for quirofilia.” His large hand moves to rest on top of your thigh, and he gives you a gentle squeeze, eyes shifting from the paper to your own. “Will you allow me to book a manicure for you tomorrow? In preparation for the get-together?”

“Yes, please,” you rest your hand on top of his own.

“We’ll have to get your nails matching your new dress,” he tells you smoothly, setting the paper down in favour of pushing a strand of hair away from your face, his index finger gently gliding past your cheekbone. “And there will be another present for you tomorrow.”

“Another?” you’re nearly dizzy from how well he treats you-

“Another,” he confirms, taking off his glasses to set down before standing from the bar stool.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” you ask, allowing him to prompt you to your own feet, both of his hands gently capturing your own.

Seungcheol gives his head a small shake, a smile on his lips when he responds with a “no.”

Something inside of you deflates slightly at the fact that he’s withholding information from you, and you can’t help the way you pout your lower lip out - just a little - in an effort to perhaps make him change his mind-

“Come on, angel,” Seungcheol laughs, pinching your chin and forcing you to look up at him. His dark chocolate colored eyes are swimming with adoration, and his small half smile is breathtaking- “you can be patient for one more day, can’t you?”

“Depends what for,” you admit, reaching your free hand out to hook your fingers in the front of his belt, pulling yourself closer to the man who’s as solid as any brick wall you’ve ever seen-

“Patience for the next present,” he clarifies, gaze dipping down to your lips as you move even closer to him- “not for anything else.”

“Promise?” you ask, pushing onto your tip toes- mouths even closer-

“Promise,” Seungcheol says, finally closing the distance between you.

His lips are soft- he’s a gentleman, and his hand moves from your chin to be cupping the nape of your neck, the other smoothing down to the small of your back.

It’s chaste kissing- too chaste for you, and you wrap your arms around the back of his own neck, pressing your chest up against his.

You don’t want any more distance between you, and you especially don’t want to wait any longer for this man to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you.

“Cheol-” you groan, allowing him to tilt your head and slide his tongue along your lower lip.

“Yes, angel?” His voice is so deep and sexy, the vibrations of it going straight through from his chest to your own and then down to your tingling core-

“Daddy, please-”

“I would ask you to use your words, but now that you’ve filled out your kink list-” he swallows thickly, gently pressing his forehead to yours, “I think I have a pretty good idea of what you’d enjoy.”

In the back of your mind, you remember that you’d said yes to most of the kinks on the list- so you’re not sure how - exactly - he’s going to narrow it down and decide on what to do to you today- but there’s another part of you that trusts him fully.

Tonight is going to be a night to remember, regardless of what kinks he fulfills for you.

“Wait-” your hands move from his strong shoulders to the front of his dress shirt, toying with the buttons there, “I never saw your kink list.”

“Would you like to?”

You nod.

“Another time then,” Seungcheol says smoothly, “tonight, I want to take care of you. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good,” you admit, tugging on his shirt in an effort to pull him closer.

With a smile, Seungcheol concedes, lips finding yours again.

Instead of being as chaste as he had at the start, with each brush of your mouths against each other, he’s becoming more bold, gently testing your limits-

Little does he know that when it comes to him, you have no hard limits.

He could talk you into just about anything- but part of you knows he’d never really try to talk you into much, which is one of the reasons why you’re so open for him.

As he kisses you harder, and you tug him even closer, you realize you’re practically trying to climb him- and in one motion, Seungcheol bends down and lifts you into his arms bridal style, being mindful of the black dress still adorning your body.

“I’m going to take you to my bedroom now,” he tells you, and you take the opportunity to begin speckling his neck and underjaw in kisses, your hands tugging and toying with the fabric covering his broad shoulders.

It’s so easy to become lost in him- his gentle, calming aura truly overtakes you, and now that you’re contractually under his protection - both financially and romantically - nothing else does matter-

Nothing except him.

You want to make Seungcheol happy- and you note his reactions, note the way he releases a shuddery breath when you find a sensitive spot just under his ear- your tongue dipping out to taste his skin while you press kisses there-

“Okay, angel,” he sighs, “time to set you down.”

He places you gently onto his bed before straightening to look at you.

Seungcheol has always been tall and broad- but towering over you at the foot of his bed while you lay there with soaked panties takes him to new heights - literally - and you find yourself practically drooling- sitting up in an effort to get close to him again-

“Nuh uh uh,” he tuts, pressing one knee onto the mattress between your legs. “Lift your arms so I can take this dress off of you, and then lay back down for me, yeah?”

You follow through with his request gladly, allowing him to strip you of your dress before you flatten against his bed again, looking up at him with a lustful wonder that you’ve never truly experienced.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Seungcheol says smoothly, discarding your dress before looking down at you with appreciative eyes- eyes that finally take in some of your best features, gliding across your breasts and the lingerie set you’re wearing- “You dressed up for me,” he notes.

“Of course, daddy,” you sigh, reaching for him when he presses his other knee onto the bed, “wanted to look good for you.”

“You always look good,” he tells you, flattening his form over your own, one hand pressed to the mattress next to your head while the other gently grasps your jaw. “My pretty little angel,” he says, breath fanning across your skin before his lips find your own.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and looking for friction between your thighs-

A moan slips out of you when you feel his cock, pressing against the front of his pants deliciously-

Seungcheol chuckles into your kiss before pulling away from you, his lips moving to your neck-

“So sensitive, baby,” he says, rutting forward ever so slightly- cock dragging past your panty-clad core and making you groan again. “When was the last time you were properly touched?”

“It’s been a while,” you admit, swallowing thickly and lacing your fingers through Seungcheol’s hair while he kisses down to the swell of your breasts, still captured in your bra.

“Well, we’re going to change that.”

“We better,” you retort, back already arching off the bed to give him access to the clasp of your bra- which he undoes with deft fingers. “Take it off- please-”

The garment slips off of you easily, and Seungcheol tosses it to join your dress on the floor before his large, warm hand is cupping your breast, lips attaching to one nipple while his fingers toy with the other.

Small gasps of ecstasy escape you, filling the room with your whimpery sounds of need.

Your new lover focuses on your breasts in a way that begins to make you frustrated, your pussy clenching with untouched desire- and the feeling of Seungcheol’s muscled shoulders is almost too much for your hands, which can’t help but explore his body-

“Please-” you moan, shifting your hips up, eager for him to grind down on you again-

The hand on your breast is removed, and it slips between your bodies, two fingers pressing to your pussy through your panties.

You release a whimper, body shuddering at the small stimulus on your clit-

“Your panties are soaked, angel,” he says, releasing your breast in favor of looking down at you again. “Do you really need me that much?”

“I do,” you tell him sincerely, once more tugging at the front of his shirt. “I need you so bad-”

Your fingers begin to undo his buttons, but your motions are shaky, especially as he rubs your core harder, teasing you through your panties-

“Please- just take them off,” you groan. “Take it all off-”

Seungcheol grins, “If you insist,” and then he’s pulling away from you, leaving you cold and desperate, your hands trying to follow him-

But then you stop, zoning in on the way his own nimble fingers undo the buttons of his shirt-

And then he’s shrugging the fabric off, revealing a chiseled torso and an abdomen that you could wash clothes on-

“You’re so-” you groan, unable to even believe you’d found a man like this on a sugar dating site.

“I’m so…” he looks at you with a cocked brow, kneeling between your legs, his hands finding your thighs and smoothing down against your skin.

“You’re everything,” you tell him, unable to think through much else.

The complement works, and Seungcheol’s smile widens. “Thank you, angel,” he says. “Daddy’s going to eat you now.”

You’re so overwhelmed- in the best of ways- that you hardly even hear Seungkwan’s voice in the back of your mind screaming ‘hannibal the cannibal, bitch!’

Your best friend had been so wrong about Seungcheol- who gets down onto his knees at the foot of the bed, dragging you closer before hooking his fingers in your panties-

You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the fabric from your form, leaving you completely naked-

Seungcheol releases a breath that fans over your pussy, his lips pressing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, teeth grazing past your skin before he finally brings his mouth where you need him most.

You can’t help but reach down and tangle your fingers through his hair, determined to keep him between your thighs-

And he doesn’t disappoint, tongue licking you up and down, pressing through your pussy lips and dipping into your core, nose brushing by your clit-

“Cheol-” you whimper, toes curling at the sensation.

You’ve been eaten out before, but you’ve never been as into a man as you are with Seungcheol, and every brush of him against you has you practically whining and tingling with ecstasy.

You’d never thought sex could be this good- and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

His tongue is nothing compared to what his cock is going to feel like- but his mouth alone is bringing you shockingly close to your high, devastatingly fast.

Seungcheol releases a groan against your pussy, pulling away just enough to ask “close already, angel?”

“Mmm- yes,” you whimper, tightening your grip in his hair on an effort to bring him back to your pussy.

“You can cum, just- let me know,” he tells you, tongue returning to your aching hole, lapping at you for all you’re worth-

You find your eyes closing, your head resting back against his bed while his ministrations work you closer and closer to the edge-

One of your feet drags along his strong back, your legs threatening to close around his head as your sounds of pleasure begin to tumble out of you uncensored, filling the room-

Seungcheol presses his face against you even harder, lips wrapping around your clit-

“Cheol- I’m gonna-” you whine, breaths becoming irregular as you get closer and closer to cloud nine- “oh my god-” you reach the peak of pleasure, and a gasped “daddy” escapes you as you’re consumed with your orgasm, quivering legs trying to close around Seungcheol-

But two hands land on your inner thighs, forcing you open for the man who eats you through your high like he’s been starved-

Perhaps you both have.

You haven’t felt something this good in- maybe ever, and all you’re able to do is tug on his hair, moan loudly, and rut your hips against his face while you feel him tingling through every fiber of your being.

Seungcheol works you through your entire orgasm and then some, until your legs feel like jelly from being tensed, and you can hardly breathe correctly. Then, he pulls away from you slowly, pressing kisses along your inner thigh-

You open your eyes to look down at him, and you’re met with a visual that has you getting wet all over again.

The gorgeous man between your legs, wipes his thumb across his lower lip, collecting what’s there and slipping it into his mouth, releasing a groan that has you practically twitching-

His pupils are blown with interest, and he’s breathing just as heavily as you are.

He stands up, towering over you once more.

Seungcheol swallows thickly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m guessing from the way you checked off cum play and breeding kink that you’re on some sort of contraceptive?”

You release a small laugh- no man has ever used the word contraceptive in the bedroom with you before. Cheol is so sexy with his fancy words-

“Hey,” he gently taps your inner thigh again, “are you alright?”

“Yes, I-” you take a breath, “sorry, I’m just-” you can’t help but reach for him, making something like grabby hands in the air.

“I’ll give you a second to come down a bit more,” he concedes, returning between your legs, holding himself just over your body while you attempt to latch onto him, ankles crossing behind his back to lock him in- “You really haven’t been properly touched in a while,” he notes, brushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear.

“No,” you agree, “I haven’t.”

You cup his face, eager for his lips to be on yours, but he holds just out of your reach, grinning down at you. “Almost ready to answer my question?”

You nod, taking a breath before telling him, “I’m on the pill.”

“Lucky us,” Seungcheol says, bypassing your lips in favour of pressing a kiss to your neck, just above your fluttering pulse point. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you admit, letting out a deep sigh- “needy.”

Seungcheol releases a small groan, and he pushes his hips forward, teasing your bare core with the front of his dress pants- “Yeah?”

“Please-” you tug gently at his hair, “stop teasing me.”

“Just trying to let you take a breath,” he retorts.

“I don’t want to breathe,” you say stubbornly, “I want you.”

He lets out a chuckle, and you find yourself wanting to prove how much you want him.

There’s no way in hell that you’ll be able to dominate Seungcheol, he’s as sturdy as a bear laying on top of you, but when you push at his shoulders, he relents, allowing you to roll him onto his back so you’re now the one on top.

He blinks up at you, lips parting-

“Didn’t expect this, did you, daddy?” you ask, placing your palms flat on his chest while adjusting the way you’re seated, capturing his cock between your bodies-

Seungcheol sits up abruptly- and you almost think he’s going to say something, but instead, he presses his lips to yours, capturing the nape of your neck with his hand so you can’t move away.

His kiss is hungry, tongue gliding past your own and earning a mewl of pleasure- your hips rock slightly, and you’re immediately aggrieved to be reminded that he still has pants on.

“Want you naked,” you tell him between kisses, “want to taste you-”

Now it’s his turn to let out a groan of eager delight, and he lets go of his hold on your neck, pulling away from your lips to look you in the eyes while he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging ever so slightly to have your head arching back- “You sure about that?”

“God, yes-” you moan, licking your lips-

“Then go ahead, angel,” Seungcheol says, releasing you. “Do whatever your heart desires, and if you get tired, let daddy know so he can take over again.”

You’ve never been wetter in your life. Nor have you ever shimmied down a man’s body and wrestled with his pants so quick, but with Seungcheol, that’s precisely what you do, and within no time at all, you have your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.

He’s girthy- and you can just imagine how good the stretch of him is going to feel-

You’re practically drooling on him, bobbing your head up and down while he pushes your hair out of your face, releasing a groan and a “that’s it, angel” that eggs you on even more.

You’re aware that you don’t want to make him cum like this- this is just you returning the favour before riding him-

God, you want to ride him so bad- like you’ve never wanted to ride any man in your whole entire life.

“Fuck-”

It’s the first swearword you’ve ever heard come out of Seungcheol’s mouth, and it goes straight to your pussy, which clenches around nothing, your mouth slipping down far enough on his cock that you choke-

“Careful, darling,” the hand in your hair tugs you off his cock, and you take a gasp of air, sneaking a glance up at the man who has you going feral-

“I wanna ride you.”

“Like I said, do whatever your heart desires,” comes his almost casual response-

This man is going to be the death of you.

Death by psychologist cock.

Before you can even think a coherent sentence, you’re straddling Seungcheol’s hips, adjusting his cock to fit snuggly against your core, and sinking down on him, filling yourself inch by delicious inch until you’re sat atop him like a queen on her throne.

His hands find your waist, and you both release sounds of pleasure, your eyes closing to enjoy the feeling of being perfectly full for just a moment before you begin to move-

“Feels good, huh?” he prompts, squeezing your hips gently.

“Feels fucking fantastic,” you tell him- swear words be damned.

Your hands find his strong chest, and you lean over him, connecting your lips while you take a test thrust, bouncing just slightly on his cock-

The feeling is enough to have you both groaning into each other’s mouths, Seungcheol cupping the side of your face while he gently bites at your lower lip-

You’re not used to being on top- and it feels obvious in the shallow way you’re riding him, too distracted in kissing to give either motion your full attention-

But that doesn’t matter, because Seungcheol is rutting up to meet you, matching your slow pace and helping you find a steady rhythm with the hand still on your hip, guiding you as you begin to bounce.

It feels like heaven to be fucking Choi Seungcheol- feels like nothing you could have ever imagined.

You find yourself getting lost in him, working on autopilot with one destination in mind: orgasmic pleasure, and with each thrust of his hips to meet you, he helps you get closer.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you groan, tearing your lips from his to take a breath, burying your face against his neck while your thighs burn from effort- “Daddy, please- please, fuck me-”

That’s all you need to say to get him to take over, flipping you onto your back so he can regain the top position. He captures your hands, raising them over your head where he can lock your wrists together in his strong grip, then his free digits slip between your bodies, seeking out your clit-

“Oh my god,” you moan, eyes closing as you’re overwhelmed in the sensation of him-

“Close already, sweetheart?” he questions, letting out a smug, sexy, little chuckle. “Feels that good?”

“Yes- feels so good,” you tell him, ready to say anything he wants you to if it means he fucks you harder-

His fingers draw small quick circles on your clit, and your legs twitch where they’re wrapped around his waist.

“I’ve hardly even fucked you- you can hold it a little longer, can’t you darling?” he prompts, nosing at your cheek. “For me?”

“I can-” you groan as he fucks you harder, “I can try- but- my clit-”

“Is this making it difficult for you?” Seungcheol smiles, relenting ever so slightly and then removing his hand all together in favour of wrapping it around your throat. “There, is that better?”

He squeezes your airway, and you’re simply unable to speak, unable to do anything but moan like a whore in heat while he fucks you closer and closer to an orgasm you’re desperately trying to hold off for him-

“You feel-” he lets out a groan, “unbelievable.”

No, he feels unbelievable, and you can’t even touch him with your hands still pinned-

You think if you could graze your fingers across his strong shoulders you’d cum instantly, so maybe it’s a good thing he has your wrists in his grasp-

“I think I want you to cum now,” he decides, and you’re thankful- only for him to release your throat and rub your clit, which has you whining loudly all over again- “You’ll cum with me, right?”

“God, daddy- yes!” you whimper- the coil in your stomach clenching as tightly as ever-

Then he releases your wrists, anchoring a hand against your abdomen to keep you down while he works you over the edge- and your own fingers immediately seek out the shoulders that have you dizzy with lust, core clamping down on his cock as you’re high hits you full force.

“Cheol-” you whimper, delighted by the way he immediately presses his lips to yours, eagerly eating up your sounds of pleasure and returning them with grunts and groans of his own while fucking you through one of the best orgasms of your entire life.

His tongue dances by yours, teeth teasing past your lip-

Your fingers are in his hair and you can feel him practically everywhere, your entire body alight with wonderful sensations of bliss-

It starts to slow too soon, but every up must have a down, and as his hips lose pace and your sounds lessen, you realize you’re truly, madly, deeply in love with Choi Seungcheol.

And you’ve known him for less than a week.

8: Wednesday

“Are you settling in okay?” Bora’s voice pulls you away from your daydreaming, and you tear your eyes off of Seungcheol to focus on the woman whose house you’ve been enjoying for much of the evening.

She’d been introduced to you as Seungcheol’s colleague’s wife, and you’ve yet to get any one on one with the very pregnant hostess, whose husband, Mingyu, has been circling her like a puppy this entire time.

“Yes,” you respond, finding your voice, “you have a very easy home to settle into.”

“I appreciate that,” she smiles, taking the free seat on the sofa next to you, one hand settling over her protruding stomach in a maternal way that makes your heart soften. “I’ve been meaning to have a chat with you since you arrived, but both of us seem to have a plus one that’s attached at the hip.”

Now it’s her turn to look over at Seungcheol and Mingyu, who are huddled around another psychologist friend of theirs, Wonwoo, and his wife, their attention fixed on the youngest member of the housewarming party, a six-month-old baby named Yumi.

“I feel as if I’m the plus one,” you say.

“Don’t be modest,” Bora brushes it off with a smile, “Cheol has had his hand on the small of your back for most of the evening. As much as they like to pretend they’re big shot psychologists, we’re the crutches that get them through the evening.”

You take a moment to consider her words.

This is the first event you’ve gone to with your new beau, and for much of it, you’ve been as intent to stick to Cheol’s side as he has been to yours.

“Trust me,” Bora continues, “give it a few minutes and they’ll migrate over here to be close to us.” She pauses, then, “Mingyu has to get used to being in the living room, a pregnant woman like me needs a good, comfortable seat.”

You both laugh at the way she touches her belly again, pushing it out and relaxing back on the sofa.

“How far along are you?” you ask.

Despite already having had dinner and discussion for an hour or two, much of the focus has been on the home and various publications that the four university friends have been working on, with Wonwoo’s wife Minji having arrived with Yumi only a short while ago.

“Eight months,” Bora sighs, continuing to stroke her baby bump. “I’m just about ready to pop. But enough about me and my belly, you’ve hardly spoken about yourself- and Cheol is always so focused on work, I’ve yet to get many details out of him, other than the fact that you’re worth skipping book club for. Did you two have a hot date last night?”

Your skin heats with embarrassment- “I didn’t know he’d skipped book club for me-”

“It’s a loose arrangement, Tuesdays at seven, I’m only teasing you,” Bora leans over to nudge you with her shoulder, offering you a sweet smile. “How did you two meet?”

The nondisclosure agreement pops into your mind like a red warning sign.

“Erm…” you swallow, “Cheol hasn’t told you?”

“Like I said, he’s very tight-lipped about it,” Bora explains. “But- I’ve never known Seungcheol to be a fan of changing his schedule- and the pearl necklace you’re wearing- the dress, your lovely nails- they all seem like gifts to me. Am I right?”

Her husband might be a psychologist, but Bora has just as much of a critical eye. She sees right through you.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Bora waves your silence off, “I know I’m right. I’ll figure you two out.”

“Are you being nosy again, Mrs. Kim?” Vernon, the fourth and quietest man of your new lover’s friend group joins you in the living room, taking a seat on the single chair to your left.

“Always,” Bora responds with a smile. “Wait, Vernon, maybe you know more about this. Y/N is being no fun- Cheol must have told you where and when they met-”

Vernon’s mouth opens in something like recognition-

“Ah ha!” Bora exclaims, leaning closer to you, sandwiching you in while she presses for more information. “So you do know!”

“I do, but-” Vernon looks at you, then he leans in too, his voice dipping to something near a whisper, “Are we allowed to talk about this?”

“Allowed?” Now Bora is even more hooked on finding the truth than before, and her gaze darts between you and the man on your left, who obviously knows at least a few details about you and Seungcheol’s ‘origin story.’

Due to the NDA, all you can do is sit there like a fish out of water, and you find yourself looking to Seungcheol, hoping he’ll see you in distress and come over to sort things out-

“Let’s just say-” Vernon sighs, giving in to the pregnant woman’s need for information, “Y/N, you seem like a great girl- as kind, calm, collected, and smart as Seungcheol told us you were- but, I am shocked he found you on a dating site.”

“A dating site?” Bora’s eyes have widened, and she shuffles closer to you on the couch, jaw dropped. “Stop- when I told him to try online dating after his last girlfriend I was honestly joking- everyone knows Tinder is hookup central these days.”

Bora is as inquisitive as anyone you’ve ever met, and she checks you and Vernon for your reactions, easily picking up on the shift of energy-

“Wait, not tinder?” She pauses, waiting for an answer. When it becomes obvious neither you nor Vernon are going to elaborate, she sighs and sits back a little. “Now that I think of it, tinder is an app, not a site- the only dating sites I can think of online are-”

It’s like a lightbulb goes off atop her head, and her jaw drops a little more- then she’s inching in close to you again, whispering as Vernon had done earlier, “You know what? Now that we’re discussing it- a sugar daddy site would be perfect for Cheol.”

Vernon groans, throwing his hand over his eyes and leaning forward. It’s clear he’d expected to be able to talk to you in something of vague code without Bora picking up on it- but it seems he’s underestimated the astute woman next to you.

“You guys are horrible at keeping secrets,” Bora grins, sneaking a glance at Seungcheol, who’s now picked up baby Yumi- “This is so interesting.”

“The plot thickens,” you offer, unable to say much more than that.

“Oh my god, stop,” Bora says playfully, poking your arm. “Obviously there’s some… agreement that’s been made between you and Cheol, so I’ll try not to prod you for much more information,” she promises, “but I’ll talk to Cheol and the next time we meet, you’ll be able to speak more freely.”

“The next time we meet?” you ask, wondering how the woman can be so sure of herself in every regard.

“We’ll meet again,” she tells you. “Trust me, anyone watching you and Seungcheol- well, anyone who knows him, can tell he really likes you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You think?”

Bora smiles at you. “Sweet girl, it’s obvious. Trust me, Seungcheol doesn’t bring around just anyone to parties with us, and like I said, he doesn’t often change his schedule for girls either. I don’t care what site you met on, you have that man whipped.”

“Bora-” the psychologist on your left groans.

“Vernon,” she retorts with the same tone.

They exchange a glance, a battle for dominance, and Bora wins, Vernon releasing a sigh before leaning back in his chair.

“You know what is surprising?” he asks.

“Tell us,” Bora mirrors him, relaxing back against the couch.

“How good Cheol is being with Yumi tonight.” Vernon is watching his friends and the baby again, and soon all three of you are.

“That’s a good point, Vernon,” Bora grins, nudging you a little with her elbow. “I wonder why that is?”

You think her intuition has finally run dry. She can’t be insinuating that you’re partially the reason behind Seungcheol’s apparent baby fever-

And if she is, she has another shock coming for her when she finally talks to Cheol and finds out that ‘no babies’ was one of the clauses of your dating agreement.

“I think, Cheol’s the kind of man who likes seeing people happy, and Yumi is very expressive” you offer. “People can like babies without wanting one for themselves.”

Bora lets out a scoff. “Right, Mingyu and I always thought we just ‘liked babies,’ and now look at me. Liking babies is always how it starts, and before you know it, nine months have gone by, you’ve turned into a balloon and are buying a new home big enough to raise a family in.”

You are envious of her position, but at the same time, you’re acutely aware that you and Cheol are extremely new to each other. He’s not the kind of man to be hasty- or at least, you’d thought he wasn’t, but as Bora had mentioned, Seungcheol doesn’t introduce just anyone to his friends.

You’ll have to talk with him about this and you know it, but until then, it’s enough to just sit between his friends and watch him play with Yumi, who seems to give everyone in the vicinity a serious case of baby fever.

9: Thursday

“Hold up-” Seungkwan says, interrupting you with a wave of his hands, and they land on your knees, “wait a minute- so he makes you sign an NDA, and then invites you out with his friends, and one of them like- bombards you for an hour about him-”

“It wasn’t an hour-”

“Sure-”

“And she wasn’t bombarding,” you correct.

“Ok, fine, yeah, whatever- but then-” Seungkwan takes a deep breath, “he also has a thing about no babies, and in the first week- straight up rubs a baby in your face for an entire night-”

“Yumi was only there for an hour or so before we left-”

“And then!” your best friend interrupts you again, “on the car ride home, instead of discussing it with him like adults- ya’ll put up the separation between you and his hot as fuck driver, and nearly fucked in the back seat-”

“Oh my god, stop-” you groan, “I told you, it was just kissing-”

“With you straddling the man!” Seunkwan yells back. “And all of this, after he switched his schedule to fuck you on Tuesday night- even though you said it would go slow-”

“Actually, he told me he wouldn’t fuck me till the third date, and if we didn’t meet Tuesday, the night with his friends on Wednesday would have been the third date, so-”

“I swear to fucking god, I have whiplash,” Seungkwan tells you, looking as serious as ever. “Ya’ll make me sick! Sick I say! What in the ever-loving fanfic is this bullshit-”

“Have you been writing more Hannibal and Will love stories again?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you going to write a fanfic about Will and Hannibal based on me and Cheol?”

“Maybe…”

“Seungkwan!”

“Well don’t tell me juicy stories if you don’t want them getting thrown in a sex fantasy! Ya’ll nearly fucked in the back of a car with a hot chauffeur-”

“I told you-” you begin to defend yourself again, only to be cut off by your phone buzzing.

Both you and Seungkwan look to your cell, placed a foot or two away on the coffee table.

“Daddy,” you both say in unison, and then you’re lurching for your phone.

“Seungkwan stop!” you screech, grabbing onto his sweater when he latches onto the device first.

“Put him on speaker!” Seungkwan declares, holding your cell just out of your reach while it rings.

“Yeah- I’ll put him on speaker-” you fold easily, “just give me the phone!”

Instead of handing it to you right away, your best friend answers the call and hits speaker, then thrusts it towards your face.

“Hi, daddy!” you blurt out, flustered from the small dust up you’d just had with your friend over the entire situation.

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the line, then “Hi, sweetheart. It sounds like I’ve interrupted something.”

“Just-” you grab the cell back from Seungkwan, “just had trouble finding my phone is all, was worried you’d be sent to voicemail.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t. It’s good to hear your voice.”

Your heart swoons, and Seungkwan grabs a pillow to scream into. “Good to hear yours too.”

“I’m just calling to see if we’re still on for tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah- do you still want to see me? I know you were very specific when we met about meeting up once or twice a week, and I’ve already seen you twice in the past three days-”

“Once or twice a week, plus the occasional group event,” Seungcheol clarifies for you. “I’d really enjoy having you over tomorrow, if you haven’t already made plans. I won’t hold it against you if you have, I can see how there might have been a small miscommunication- especially after my… erratic behavour this week, fitting you in on Tuesday- scheduling will almost always be smoother than it has been these last few days.”

“I’d love to see you tomorrow- I haven’t made any other plans.”

“Good.” You can hear him smiling. “Since it’s a Friday, and I don’t have any specific work engagements on weekends, how do you feel about bringing an overnight bag?”

Seungkwan drops his pillow.

“I would love that, too-” you say.

“Perfect. Should we say pick up at seven?”

“Sounds great.”

God, he makes everything so easy-

“Can’t wait to see you again, angel. Have a good evening, you deserve it.”

You deserved to get dicked down.

“Have a good night too, Cheol.”

10: Friday

When you exit your building, you’re shocked to find a different car - and an entirely different driver - waiting to take you to Seungcheol’s home.

The man himself is standing aside a sleek, black, two-seater sports car, dressed in his usual suit aesthetic that shows off the broadness of his shoulders-

You go feral nearly immediately, and it takes everything in you to stop from practically drooling as you close the distance between you and the man who pulls you into a hug that takes you off your feet for a greeting.

“Hey there, angel,” his breath tickles your hair and he sets you back down. He takes your hands gently, holding them out to the sides so he can get a good look at your outfit, a red dress you’d chosen, knowing it’s his favourite colour. “You look gorgeous.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you grin, playing with his fingers.

One quick motion has him spinning you like a dancer, and you find yourself giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Ready to go?” he asks when you’ve come to a stop in front of him again.

“Uh huh,” you nod, giving your head a little shake to pull yourself from a lust-fueled daze, “sorry, I was just- I wasn’t expecting you to be the one picking me up.”

“I gave Seokmin the night off,” Seungcheol tells you, opening the car’s passenger side door and holding out a hand to help you in. “Hope that’s okay,” he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your cheek before taking your overnight bag and closing you into the vehicle.

He puts your bag in the back trunk, then slips into the driver’s seat.

Seungcheol’s hand finds your thigh, and he squeezes gently, offering you a small smile. “I know we’re planning on having you stay the night, but if you decide you don’t want to sleep over, I can always drive you home later.”

“Cheol,” you rest your hand on top of his, “I think we both know I’m not going to take you up on that offer.”

“Sure, but I figured I’d put it on the table regardless.”

You smile, leaning in to steal a kiss to his cheek, as he had when he helped you into your seat. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“You deserve it,” he insists, giving your thigh another squeeze before reaching for the ignition.

The car revs to life.

It’s hard not to stare at Seungcheol while he drives, and luckily, his hand returns to your thigh, giving you something to focus on. You take to playing with his fingers, marveling at how handsome every inch of him is.

“Vernon called me yesterday,” Seungcheol says, dragging your attention from his hands.

“Oh?”

“He admitted to slipping up and giving Bora ideas.” Seungcheol lets out a small chuckle, “said you looked like a deer in headlights when he arrived to the conversation- she was pressing you for details, huh?”

“Not in a bad way,” you tell him, wanting to defend the woman who you’re already coming to think of as a friend. “She was just- curious.”

“It’s my fault for not being specific with you about the NDA, or with Vernon for that matter- the NDA is primarily for when we go to work events outside of our inner circle, which is why your best friend is mentioned on the form you signed- it seems both Vernon and Mingyu were under the idea that I wanted to be highly secretive about us- but I’ve explained to them the nuances of it all. The next time you see Bora, please, feel free to discuss it with her, or Vernon, or Mingyu, Wonwoo, Minji- as long as you’re not too specific with Yumi, you can consider the baby a confidant as well.”

He’s obviously joking about the baby, but the mention of the child brings those same warm fuzzy conflicted feelings that you’d experienced last night at the get-together.

There will be a time to talk with Seungcheol about his seemingly dualistic baby fever and baby aversion- but tonight is not the night for it.

You’re thankful he’d even brought up the topic of Bora and the NDA, and already, what little anxiety you’d felt about this whole thing has been substantially dwindled.

“I really liked your friends,” you admit, thinking back to how pleasant the evening had been. Despite Bora’s teasing and prying, she’d been nothing but a courteous host when Seungcheol and Mingyu had predictably rejoined you in the living room.

“They liked you too, angel. I knew they would.” He lets go of your thigh in favor of gently taking your hand.

You can already feel your panties beginning to get wet-

No man’s hands have ever had this effect on you before- and maybe it has to do, in part, with the whole ‘quirofilia’ thing-

Or maybe, Cheol is simply a man made by the hands of god himself- after all, how could he be this perfect without something like divine intervention?

Before you know it, you’re at Seungcheol’s house, and he’s pulling into the underground garage, where he parks next to the rolls-royce you’re accustomed to being driven in.

Ever the gentleman, Seungcheol makes sure to come around and open your door for you, your duffle swung over his arm. He refuses to give it back to you, insisting on carrying it up to his home, where the two of you head to his bedroom instinctually.

He sets the bag down, turning to look at you, opening his mouth to say something-

But your patience has already run thin, and you all but launch yourself at the broad man, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pressing your lips to his while his hands find your waist.

He laughs into the kiss, and you think he must not have been expecting you to jump him like this.

Doesn’t he know the effect he has on you?

“Cheol-” you groan, moving your lips to his neck-

“Eager, angel?” Seungcheol reaches down to cup your bum, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. “It was hard being close but not able to properly touch you at the gettogether-” he says, taking a few steps back and collapsing down onto his bed, steadying you on top of him, “Could hardly even get work done today-”

“Was I that distracting for you, daddy?” you coo, teeth teasing past his earlobe.

He releases a groan, hands digging into your hips, forcing you down on his cock, which presses up against his dress pants, caught between your bodies. “Always.”

“How can I fix it?” you wonder out loud, hands already going for the buttons of his shirt. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“You do, angel,” Seungcheol tells you, “make daddy feel so good.”

“Wanna make you feel even better-” Then an idea comes to your head, “How about… a massage?” you suggest, thinking back to a paragraph you’d read from his book yesterday. “Aren’t you the one who claims relaxation time, such as stretching, massages, and the like, can be just as beneficial to the mind and body as activity itself?”

“Look at you, quoting my own work at me,” he releases a deep groan. “Are you sure that’s what you want to get up to tonight?”

“Just to start,” you tell him. “We have the whole evening- and tomorrow morning- why not start the night off with something like a massage? And work our way into…” you swivel your hips, “harder things.”

“I like the sound of that, angel,” he confesses with another sigh of pleasure as you kiss the sweet spot just under his ear. “But you’ve got to let me get up so I can grab massage oil.”

You’d forgotten about that part, and the idea of letting Seungcheol leave you - even for a moment - brings out a bratty side of you that you’ve never truly experienced.

It takes all your willpower to concede, getting off of the man who sits up and runs a hand through his hair. “You okay?” he questions, seeing the shift in your energy.

“Yeah,” you nod, “just hurry.”

He laughs, reaching out to gently pinch your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The kiss he places on your lips is as chaste as your first had been, and it leaves you tingling with potential, even as he stands and heads to the ensuite bathroom.

In his absence, you begin to take off your clothes, removing everything down to your bra and panties, and then, just for good measure, you settle onto your knees on the foot of his bed, trying to be as patient as possible.

You’re rewarded when Seungcheol appears in the doorway again, having stripped himself of his shirt. There’s a bottle of baby oil trapped between his teeth, and his hands are working on his belt and pants-

When he sees you sitting on the foot of his bed, like the best girl there ever was, he lets the baby bottle drop from his mouth, catching it easily in one hand- “look at you,” he breathes, scanning your form.

“Like what you see, daddy?” you tease, skin heating from the attention he gives you.

“Love it,” he tells you. “How good are your reflexes, darling?”

You open your mouth to respond, only to have him toss the bottle of oil at you.

Unlike him, you don’t catch it gracefully, the bottle almost slipping out of your hands- there’s a small fumble but your digits wrap around it-

Seungcheol laughs at you. “With butter fingers like that- should I be getting us a towel to put down?”

You hate that it’s a legitimate question.

And you doubly hate that the answer is a resounding yes, which you verbalize to him, annoyed that he’ll be leaving again-

But then you’re graced with a full view of his beautiful back when he turns to head into the bathroom again, and you decide to be a good, patient girl for just a few more moments.

Seungcheol returns, and you bite your tongue while you watch him set the towel down, but as soon as it’s settled, you find yourself saying - in something like a command - “on your stomach first,” you’re quick to adjust to your tone, “I wanna work your back out a little to start.”

“How could I say no to that?” Seungcheol grins, following through and laying flat on the towel.

You nearly drool while watching him adjust his arms, propping his head up with both hands under his chin. His biceps are bulging and your mouth is definitely beginning to water again, prompting you to lick your lips-

“Have you given many massages before?” he asks, as you straddle his hips, continuing to marvel at the shape of his perfect form-

“Erm- define many?”

He chuckles, and you flip the cap of the baby oil, allowing the liquid to pour into your palm. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“It can’t be that hard,” you tell him, bringing your hands to the muscled back that has you wet like the ocean every time you see it.

“Tell that to my chiropractor,” he says, a joke that makes you both laugh.

You begin to work away at his muscles, both hands smoothing up and down his back, focusing in on the shoulders you love so much-

“Feels good,” Seungcheol groans, releasing a deep sigh of relief that has your ego shooting through the roof.

“That’s good daddy,” you tell him, leaning over him and applying more of your body weight as pressure for your hands. “You deserve to relax.”

He chuckles slightly, and you realize you’re picking up on some of his diction. Hasn’t he been the one telling you what you deserve thus far?

All it takes is you being on top and you begin to emulate his mannerisms, the soft dom tendency towards praise.

You can tell he’s enjoying it, and you are too, your panties getting wetter with every second your hands are on his broad shoulders-

“Can you flip now?” you prompt, knowing it hasn’t been that long that you’ve been working on his back- but you miss his face, and you’re eager to get your hands on his chest-

With a grunt of affirmation, Seungcheol begins to turn, and you lift yourself off of him enough to allow the movement. Once he’s on his back, you settle down again, capturing his cock between your bodies as it strains against his pants.

“You like this position, huh?” he asks, smiling up at you with an expression that exudes adoration.

His hands find your thighs, rubbing up and down while you get more oil on your palms. “Not always,” you tell him, beginning to massage his chest, “top can be fun to start, in some cases, but- I really liked being under you the last time we were in your bed.”

“Oh yeah?”

You avoid his gaze, knowing your skin is heating from what you’d just admitted. “Uh huh.”

“You’re cute,” he breathes, rubbing circles on your thighs, “getting all shy while sitting on top of me like this.”

“I’m trying to focus,” you tell him, trailing your fingers down to his abdomen.

“You look a little dazed, darling,” he presses, “are you sure you don’t want me to take over?”

“I’ve hardly massaged you yet-” you go to argue, but Seungcheol is already making the move to sit up.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and tilts your head back the way he had last time- his breath is hot against your throat, and he trails his nose up under your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear. “What if I don’t care about the massage anymore?”

“Then-” you swallow thickly, pussy throbbing when his free hand unclasps your bra behind you, “then, okay.”

“Okay?” he chuckles. “My love, I don’t think ‘then, okay’ is a sentence.”

“Fuck me?”

“Not too sure that’s a sentence either, but, your wish is my command.”

It seems like the easiest thing in the world for him to discard your bra and flip you onto your back, lips finding your own, tearing your breath away.

Your legs tighten around his waist, and his oiled chest slides against yours, your newly freed nipples pebbling at the direct contact-

One of his hands, slides between your bodies, skimming over your breast and cupping it, squeezing. You release a moan of pleasure, hips bucking, pushing up towards him-

Your own hands slide over his slippery shoulders, and you mentally kick yourself for having lubed him up- there’s hardly anything to grasp onto, so you latch onto his hair instead, kissing him harder.

He releases your breast, hand slipping down and under the waistband of your panties. When his fingers find your core, they tease past your clit, and you can feel the silkiness of the baby oil on his digits, which glide into your wet hole as easily as ever.

“Cheol-” you moan desperately, wanting to push your hips up- to get closer, but he holds you down with his large body, lips moving to your neck.

You realize, as his expert fingers crook up and find your gspot, that the last time you’d fucked, he’d never fingered you. You’d gotten to experience his tongue and his cock, but the middle and ring fingers that explore your pussy have something like trained exactitude, hitting the spot that has your toes curling with deadly precision.

“Oh my god-” you whimper, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, looking for an anchor while he begins to thrust his digits into you with enough force that your hips begin to rock-

The palm of his hand applies pressure to your clit, rubbing you through the rough manhandling that has you achingly close to an orgasm within no time-

“Gonna cum?” he prompts in your ear, hot breath making your skin tingle.

“Yes, daddy-” it’s the most you can do to hold onto him and clench your eyes shut, an intense feeling of euphoric pressure erupting between your legs-

“That’s it gorgeous, let it all out-” he groans, fingers unrelenting-

You can hear your pussy, squelching sinfully around his fingers- and you can feel wetness gushing between your thighs-

In the back of your mind, you realize you’re squirting, cumming completely undone on his hand, but you’re too lost in the feeling of it to care.

He finger fucks you to the point of overwhelm, until your whines and whimpers are hoarse and tears well in the corners of your shut eyes-

And then he’s pulling his hand out of your panties, and the soaked material is left to cling back to your sopping hole.

Your arms go slack, landing on the bed next to you, and Seungcheol pulls away from your body, making you moan desperately, eyes opening to watch him-

“I’m not going anywhere, angel,” he promises, pushing his own pants down before kicking them to the side, then he goes to tear your panties off, and you see, for the first time, how truly ruined they are. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone squirt this much,” he tells you, discarding the fabric so he can rejoin you on the bed, the both of you fully nude. “Did that feel good?”

“So good-” you whimper, hardly able to form sentences in your delirious, sex induced brain fog-

Seungcheol slots himself between your thighs again, cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing away the tear that’s escaped your eye. “Do you need a moment?”

“No!” you’re quick to protest, locking your legs around his hips. “Fuck me- daddy- please-”

You don’t think any cock has ever entered you as smoothly as his does, aided by the copious amount of wet arousal still dribbling out of your hole.

Seungcheol tucks his face against the crook of your neck, supporting himself above you with two hands buried into the pillow on either side of your head. His lips are feverish against your throat, and the groans he releases as he begins to fuck you make you as horny as ever.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans, rutting into you with a pace and power that increases with every slap of skin on skin- “so perfect for me-”

“Daddy-” you whine, clawing at his back while he ravages your insides.

“So responsive-” his teeth graze past your neck and you shiver, whole body tingling with delight.

“Harder-” you moan.

“Harder?” he releases something like a laugh, and then you hear him swallow, adjusting his position so he can dig his elbows into the bed, hooking his forearms under your own shoulders, which props you up ever so slightly- enough to change the angle and allow him to follow through with your request.

You release a squeak at the feeling of being completely at his mercy, completely wrapped in Cheol while he’s wrapped in you- the perfect combination really.

The sounds escaping you aren’t something you can hold back, and each rough thrust has his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you, a spot that has you becoming a mewling, moaning, whimpering mess for him.

“Just like that-” you tell him desperately, grabbing at his hair, eager to hold onto something while you get fucked into oblivion-

“You close, gorgeous?” he asks, and all you can do is moan, which makes him chuckle, “yeah you are,” he breathes. “Squeezing daddy so fucking tight- you were made for this, weren’t you, angel?”

“Yes-”

“Made to be fucked-” he growls, rutting into you even harder-

You’re not sure where sweet, soft dom Seungcheol has gone, but you’re more than happy to be decimated by the man fucking into you like an animal, and his sinful praisings go straight to your pussy, which clenches around him even more.

“That’s it angel, that’s it-” he groans, “just a little more-” one of his hands moves to grab your thigh, hiking it higher on his waist-

He hits a spot that has you seeing stars, and you gasp loudly, crying out-

“Cum for me,” he instructs, and before your mind has even registered his words, your pussy is following through with the command, clamping down onto him while the biggest orgasm of your life slams into you like a freight train.

Seungcheol lets out delicious sounds of pleasure, gasping against your throat, fucking you through your orgasm while coating your insides with his own release-

You’re completely surrounded by him.

There’s nothing else, only you and Cheol… and perhaps the ruined towel below you, dragging against your back with each rough thrust.

His motions begin to slow, and he comes to a stop, collapsing some of his body weight down against you while you both struggle to catch your breath.

Neither of you say anything, too lost in the aftershocks of pleasure.

But with Cheol, you don’t need to say anything. You’re completely safe with him, completely content to rest in his arms, knowing there’s not a single place in the world you’d rather be.

11: Saturday

Waking up in Seungcheol’s bed, you immediately stretch in search of him- only to find the bed empty.

Sitting up, and wrapping the quilt around your nude body, you look around, blinking away residual grogginess.

The man who’d fucked you silly until the late hours of the morning is nowhere to be seen, and you can’t help the way annoyance floods through you. But you remind yourself that Seungcheol likes his schedules, and a quick check of the clock next to the bed shows you that it’s eleven am, so you suppose you can’t be mad at Cheol for not staying with you while you slept half the day away.

Getting out of bed, you’re surprised to find just how sore your body is.

Your thighs burn- and you suppose a round number five riding session may have not been the best idea last night.

You find the simple black sleeping shirt Seungcheol had given you before deciding to tear it off of you for round six, and you enjoy the way it dwarfs you.

Sometimes you still can’t believe how big and broad Cheol is-

Finding your overnight bag, you take out a fresh pair of panties, and decide to head off in search of Seungcheol in the simple shirt and underwear look. It’s doubtful you’ll be wearing it for much longer regardless.

It’s not hard to find your psychologist lover, after all, you simply have to follow the smell of food to the kitchen.

Your sugar daddy is standing at the stove, one hand holding a spatula while he cooks eggs, the other propping up a book that he’s quietly reading.

He’s so sexy and smart- and sexy… and smart.

You can’t help but tiptoe towards him, latching onto his back and pressing your cheek against the space between his shoulder blades, releasing a groan of pleasure to finally be connected to him again.

“Morning, angel,” Seungcheol greets you, setting his book down before adjusting you, tugging you so you’re in front of him and he can meet your eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than ever,” you beam at him, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “And you?”

“Never better,” he returns your smile, and your heart practically melts. “Hungry?”

“Definitely- are you my master chef today?”

He laughs. “I’m not sure I’m that good, cooking is a hobby I’ve only truly picked up in recent years.”

“Right,” you say, turning in his arms to look down at the pan in front of you. “Very hard ingredient, eggs.”

Seungcheol releases a cross between a chuckle and a sigh behind you, poking at your ribcage. “I can make more than eggs. I just figured, I don’t really know what you like when it comes to food, so I’d make something safe and healthy. Besides, I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up.”

“So this is just for you, is that what you’re saying?” you tease him some more, enjoying the domesticity of this- it’s as if you’ve done this a hundred times before, or at least, you have the peace that comes with familiarity.

“If I had known you were such a brat-” he begins, but you cut him off with a squeal and turn to face him again, insisting “I’m not a brat!”

He simply looks at you with a smile.

“You’re being mean to me,” you pout, cupping the back of his neck and getting closer to him.

Seungcheol scoffs, shaking his head slightly. He’s quick to change the subject. “Eggs are done, are you going to come sit with me at the table?”

With a sigh, you release the psychologist, allowing him to move the eggs to a plate- and when you turn to head to the table, you see a tray of fresh fruit and other breakfast items.

“There’s orange juice in the fridge, water, or I can make you some coffee,” Seungcheol says, following you to the table where you both take your seats.

“I’m okay for now,” you tell him, grabbing a particularly tasty-looking piece of fruit to gnaw on. “Thanks, daddy.”

Seungcheol smiles, looking down at the healthy fruit options. “You know,” he says, moving a few pieces of cantaloupe and honeydew to his plate, “I’ve been wondering about you and your daddy kink.”

“Hmm?”

“Just that- we’ve never discussed it, not explicitly- I guess, being a sugar daddy, the term is in the name, but… you took to it very easily,” he explains.

“Are you suggesting I have inherent daddy issues?”

“Not suggesting, merely… wondering.”

“How about this,” you set your fruit down, “I’ll talk about my daddy issues when you tell me why you think you’d be a bad father.”

Seungcheol looks at you quizzically.

“I know you say it’s about your work and not having enough time, but- you’re settled in your career and reputation. You have this big house, a chauffeur, a group of smart psychologist friends who are popping out babies right now- and I saw the way you were with baby Yumi. looking at all of that- the only reason I can think of for why you’d be… adverse to babies, is that you have some personal reasons to think you’d be bad at it.”

The man across from you stays quiet, leaning back in his chair, but a smile works its way across his face. Then, he sighs, “touche.”

“So I guess neither of us will be talking about our daddy issues at the breakfast table,” you conclude, picking at your fruit again.

“How did I ever find a girl like you on a dating site?” Seungcheol says. “So pretty, and smart-”

“How did I ever find you on a dating site?” you retort, “so sexy, and smart-”

“Maybe finding each other was destiny.”

“Do you believe in that sort of thing?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. “Many men of science that I’ve heard of tend to lean towards atheism.”

“Maybe I used to, but then- let’s just say, I found an angel, and my world’s been flipped upside down ever since.”

Your heart leaps in your chest, and you avert your gaze, looking down at your fruit. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“As I’ve told you before, angel,” Seungcheol reaches his hand across the table, placing it over your own, “you deserve it.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! this fic was never supposed to be this long- i don't know what came over me- it was very self-indulgent :) hope you liked it!

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🔮 preview. You can’t believe how easy it is for Seungcheol to get you quaking for him- but you suppose, in some sense, you’re always quaking for your sugar daddy, who’d turned the entire trajectory of your life around the moment you’d met.

cw/ tw. oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, daddy/breeding kink, bickering like an old married couple, praise, semi-bondage, size kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 370

🌙 staring. seungcheol x afab!Reader

bonus teaser

“Are you checking your book sales again?” you groan, leaning over the back of the sunlounger chair to look over Seungcheol’s shoulders, your hands smoothing down his bare chest-

“No,” your psychologist lover says, closing his laptop and setting it on the side table next to him.

“Liar,” you grin, moving around the front of his chair so he can see you and the red bikini adorning your body- one of many sets you’ve accumulated over the two and a half years you’ve been dating Seungcheol.

You have no actual intent of going into the private pool behind you.

Seungcheol’s eyes eat you up, and the smile of appreciation that works its way onto his lips is as bright and full of affection as it’s always been. “Look at you, angel. I’ll never get tired of seeing you in red.”

“Ass kisser,” you tease, watching him stand up from the poolside chair. “I thought we agreed no work on our honeymoon.”

“It’s true that I promised that- but… checking sales on my new book isn’t work, it’s… checking sales on my new book, and besides, you were asleep,” your husband grins, hands finding your waist and tugging you to his chest. “What if you pretend you never saw me on my laptop.”

You roll your eyes. He’s gotten cheekier the longer you’ve been together, and this playful side of your relationship isn’t something you’d trade for the entire world.

“You always get up to naughty things while I’m sleeping,” you tease, playing the part of an upset wife.

“Come on,” Seungcheol prompts, leaning down to kiss you, “say you love me.”

“I’ll say I love you when you fulfill your other promise.”

“You know, we’re what, three days into this vacation?” Seungcheol pulls you closer. “Who’s to say I haven’t already pumped a baby into you?”

“Me,” you grin, hooking your fingers in his swim trunks. “I don’t feel full at all right now, in any way, shape, or form.”

“Well then, let’s see what I can do about filling you up sufficiently,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss you one last time before throwing you over his shoulder and taking you back into your private vacation villa..

God, you fucking love this man.

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#seungcheol #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol smut #svthub #svt smut #svt #s.coups smut #s.coups #seungcheol x reader #seventeen smut #seungcheol svt #svt seungcheol #scoups svt #scoups svt smut #seungcheol svt smut #sugar daddy seungcheol #sugar daddy svt

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yulin-pop · 5 months

Text

⤷ ✧ 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲

order 84 | Scenario | Cater, Jade, Idia, Silver | gender neutral

❀ NOTE: PRETTY BOYS AHHHH, I wonder if all the characters are canonically attractive or are some characters like Ace considered mid?

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so…”

➺ Cater Diamond

There’s a reason why Cater has so many followers on MagiCam. It’s because he has a cute face!! You’re not sure if he’s aware but he just has to be.

He does these tiny things like brushing the hair out of his face or slightly turning his head when he laughs. You didn’t really realize how pretty he was for a while. Sure, you got nervous just staring at him but now you can’t even look him in the eye.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so hot…”

He blinked for a moment. He was in the middle of drying his hair when you said that. All he could think is “Oh wow?” He noticed that you’ve been staring at him so intensely for the past few days— maybe weeks.

But you said it straight to his face? He thought he misheard you at first but you definitely said that.

“Wow, I didn’t know you fancied me that way MC!” Admittedly it did fluster him, he was flattering in the best way possible.

“Don’t get it twisted, it’s not in the way you’re thinking!”

You’re in denial.

⊱Jade Leech

He has that certain look to him. It’s different than Floyd even though they’re identical twins. Maybe he’s not aware how MMMMMMM he is but he has to.

Just the way he looks at you can get you weak on the floor. His eyes… You noticed how his eyes squint ever so slightly when he’s focused. He’s calm under any circumstances yet so amusing in his own way. He’s the type of person you’d want to follow around just for the fun of it. And in his own way… he’s just so damn cute too.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so cute…”

He quickly turned his head to stare at you. He’s not sure what you mean or why. It was so out of the blue. You’ve been stalking him for a while. Of course he knew and allowed it and treated it as if it was normal.

“Pardon? In what way am I… cute?” He turned his head curiously.

“Cute!” You said again.

He wasn’t sure how to feel, the last time someone called him cute was when he was a little kid. Most people would think of Jade as alluring or handsome, cute is something he hasn’t heard in a while.

“If you’re talking about my appearance, you must think Floyd is cute as well.” He says while smiling at you.

“Eh I guess so. But he’s not as cute as you.”

He moved closer, “Tell me, what else do you think of me?”

You put your hands out in front of you, as if to say stop. “Why do you have to be so close..?!”

*ੈ Idia Shroud

It’s already canon that Idia is very attractive from the character archives book and the ghost marriage event while being complete oblivious. He’s charming in his own way.

It’s hard to believe he’s so oblivious to his good looks. His smile is nerdy yet… attractive. His personality is rough but that’s what makes him so fun. Teasing someone like him is hilarious.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so hot.”

He immediately cranked his head your direction with a baffled expression. He shook his head and let out an irritated squeal.

“Wh-who says stuff like that to somebody’s face?! Online I get it but this is IRL! Why does someone like you even think that?”

He just gets really flustered and ends up rambling about how it doesn’t make sense. But when he looks back on it, it gives him an ego boost for a few minutes and then he’s embarrassed because— it makes him happy that you think of him that way.

-ˋˏ Silver

Unintentional or not, Silver has been seeing you around a lot. He doesn’t think much of it since you’re in the same school so it’s not anything crazy but when he does see you, you’re always staring at him with this… funny expression.

Did he do something wrong? He tries to wave at you when he can but as soon as he turns his head you run away or start acting like you weren’t the one staring first.

But what were you suppose to do? Whenever you saw him, all your attention was diverted to his gentle yet sharp expression. His resting face was already so deadly, you couldn’t imagine if he were to smile.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so pretty…”

He froze with a puzzled look on his face. This was one of the times you actually started a conversation with him instead of staring and running away and you say something so flirtatious?

“Ah…” He blinked as you gazed into his eyes nervously, “Thank you I suppose.” But in what way was he suppose to take that?

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #silver twisted wonderland x reader #silver twisted wonderland #jade leech x reader #jade leech #cater diamond x reader #cater diamond

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barbiiecams · 16 days

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sugardaddy!rafe who’s also older than you omg… you’re around 20-21 while he’s 30. it’s not bad, but it’s definitely not something people saw coming. some people thought it was wrong with what was going on, others actually envied you. but none of that ever mattered. you’ve made him the happiest he’s been in a while and vice versa. everything is so perfect for you, because that’s the only thing rafe wants (and it keeps you happy of course.)

being the girl you are, you have a big thing for keeping in touch with the latest clothing. and when you set your eyes on that cartier love bracelet… best believe it was gonna be yours.

you gasped at the beautiful sight on your screen. just happening to be laid back on the couch, in your favorite robe, that was covering your lace lingerie, doing some online shopping, it came up on your screen.

falling in love weren’t even the words for how you felt. rafe was in his office doing whatever boring work he always does. he told you not to distract him too much, but this was a bracelet you HAD to have. so, you got up to go see if he was all that busy.

making your way with the macbook in your hands, you already can hear him yell at someone over the phone from down the hall.

“are you fucking dumb? i said you will pay me by TONIGHT. or you know what the consequences will be.” it seemed like his voice was getting louder each word.

“you’re not listening, man. i don’t give a shit if-” at this point, you’ve actually made it to the door. he’s pacing and fuming around the room, then he spots you. he holds up a finger, mouthing you to wait a minute. but this bracelet? couldn’t wait at all.

“it’s important!” you whisper-yell. he ignores you, and that makes you even more impatient. he still continues to pace, getting angrier at whatever’s being said on the other side of the phone.

knocking on the door to grab his attention again, he takes a deep breath. “if you don’t get that shit sent by 12 am, that’s your ass tomorrow morning.” rafe says in a lower tone, but still very stern voice. you felt bad to whoever he threatened. there’s never been a single time rafe hasn’t done what he said he’s going to do when it comes to hurting people.

he hangs up immediately after and motions for you to walk in as he sits back down. “you know i’m busy baby, what is it?”

you needed to butter him up a bit, simply because you could still see the smoke coming out from his ears. “are you okay, honey? i can tell youre still pretty upset.”

discreetly trying to set the macbook down with it angled as if it meant nothing, you then walked to the back of his chair where he sat and started rubbing his shoulders. of course, he relaxed at your touch.

“don’t worry about it babe. just stress work.” he sighs. you leaned down to kiss on his neck. his eyes are shut as he loves all this affection, but he chuckles.

“someone must want something.” he says.

“i can’t just love on my man?” you faked innocent.

“oh you do that enough, but i see the macbook you brought with you.” he responds. you gave him one last kiss.

“it’s just a little something i saw.”

“oh yea? how little is it?”

you reached over to pick up the laptop. opening it so he can fully see the screen, the gorgeous 18k gold band with diamonds all over it popped up.

“that’s real gorgeous baby.” his eyebrows raised.

“i know! wouldn’t it look so perfect on me?” you suggested.

“it would,” he started to pat his clothing for his wallet, “what will i get out of this though?” he teases.

“well, just imagine how much better my hands will look when i hold onto you, and how well it will look up close when i give you a blowie.” you reply seductively. for a second, it looks like he’s really trying to imagine it.

by now, you know he feels his wallet. but he likes to play with you at times. “i don’t know if you need it,”

“pleaseee rafey! i really do! haven’t got a new bracelet in soo long.” you started to beg.

“58,000 for this? shit i could buy you a new purse with that.” he chuckles again. he could buy you purses worth a lot more than that but you know, who’s keeping track?

you took a seat on his lap and straddled him. “please? i’ll be such good girl. y’can use me however, whenever. doesn’t matter what you want. i would just love to have this bracelet though.” he was a fool for your doe eyes, so that was the weapon you were trying to use.

he just smirked in your face. the both of you knew he liked to hear you beg. “i don’t know..” he says which makes you internally flip out.

you threw your face in the crook of his neck and made it sound like you were getting emotional. “please rafe!! it’s so pretty.”

he lets out a laugh then starts stroking your back and swaying a little. “i’m just joking baby, of course you can have it.” that’s all you needed to hear to perk up again, and give him the deepest smooch.

“thank you, handsome.”

“you’re welcome, spoiled.” he says before slapping one of your cheeks. “gonna buy it right now, but i got some more work to do so i’ll be with you in a minute. want you stripped down with legs open, yea?”

whatever rafe says, most definitely goes. “yes, daddy.”

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kingkatsuki · 5 months

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Imagine older retired Pro-Hero Dynamight who hasn’t really been in the public eye since his early days. Leaving his successful Agency in the hands of Red Riot after the press come for him in a vengeful witch hunt when he fails to save twenty innocent civilians who are crushed when a building collapses due to his quirk misfiring. It doesn’t matter that the villain was in the line of sight and dodged at the last minute, it doesn’t matter that he himself tried to hold the building upright to stop it from collapsing— they just want someone to blame.

So twenty years later— when the line up of I’m a Celebrity is announced, the public are shocked to see his name on the lineup. Even more so when he actually goes into the jungle, far more calm and collected compared to the brash, aggressive Pro-Hero they remembered. Blond hair now tinted a silvery grey, messy stubble beginning to shadow his face as he spends time in the jungle with his other camp mates. Many of the posts online talk about how shocked they are that he’s still alive, but most talk about how disgusted they are that he’s in the jungle this year. It brings up a lot of negative memories from what happened that day, and it does nothing at first to help his image. But of course, Red Riot is the ever supporting best friend on social media as he posts tweet after tweet in support of Bakugou.

But a few days in, he begins to open up about his life after that moment— things that he hasn’t shared with anyone outside his circle before— things the public don’t know about what happened that day. Sharing a vulnerable side of himself that no one expected, and it makes them start to root for him again all those years later.

But most of all they start rooting for you and him together. Finding out that he’s never had a serious relationship, and that he’s been single for years. And you, as one of his camp mates, have been unlucky in love for quite some time. Always managing to choose the wrong guy, or your career being in the public eye scares most potential suitors away.

He’s older than you— a fact that makes you wonder if he’d even be interested in you as you continue to crush on him inside the camp. The public go wild when you confess your crush on Bakugou to the girls you’re sharing the camp with, their squeals enough to alert your other camp mates but you hope Bakugou doesn’t work out why. And you have no idea that he actually feels the exact same way you do.

So the public watch the way you and Bakugou interact while you’re in the jungle, having those late night talks by the fire when everyone else is asleep, being tasked to do chores together and the supportive words he shouts specifically for you whenever you’re voted to do a trial together. And the best part about it is neither of you even realise the public are rooting so strongly for the two of you to get together because you’re completely cut off from everything inside the jungle.

So much so that the public are even trying to demand that there’s a King and Queen of the jungle this year because they want you both to win together.

#idk why we’d be famous #maybe a reporter? or something idk #but I just love this idea pls #I’m a celeb bakugou

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 6 months

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Pairing : Dad!Lee Minho x F!Reader TW : none really ; reader isn't from Korea though ; 1 child ; fluff! ; Word Count : 1.2k Request : nope! A/N : still being extremely fluffy. Gonna call this the Snippets of Life mini series because I kind of want to do all the guys... I hope you are all still here. I missed you my amazing internet family!!

“You’re up late.” Minho commented as soon as he answered the facetime call from you, stifling his laughter when he saw you roll your eyes. “The little rascal hasn’t adjusted to the jet lag yet, has she?” He questioned when he heard the twinkling sound of his daughter laughing in the background.

As much as he tried to pretend to the guys that he was enjoying the little bit of time that he had to hang out with them and fully throw himself into his work while you were out of the country visiting your family, he missed you and his daughter dearly. “It’s 4 in the morning… I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep yet.” You groaned, dropping your head into the pillow and letting out a loud sigh. “She’s been looking for you non stop though, I think she misses you.”

Those words had Minhos heart swelling, and his fingers threatening to go online and buy the first ticket out of Korea so he could be there with you and his baby girl. “Where is she?” He asked, trying to look around the phone screen, as if moving his own head would give him a better view of the room you were in.

“She’s currently glued to the television screen…” You said, and he could hear how tired you were and he wished that he could help you, but he felt quite useless as a father and a fiance from behind the screen. “I had to put on a playlist of all of your fancams, she’s been watching them all day.”

He never would have thought that his daughter would miss him so much. From the moment she was born she was practically glued to your hip, but to hear that she missed him so much had his eyes glossing over with tears. He never thought he’d miss the two of you so much either. “Maybe I can talk to her… You can let her hold the phone while you get some rest?” He offered, and at this point you were willing to try anything.

“Mimi honey…” You cooed, catching the attention of your daughter. “Dada is on the phone, you wanna say hi?” You asked, and in an instant she was running over and climbing onto the bed, snatching your phone out of your hand and holding it up to her face.

“Appa!” She cheered, her tiny toothed smile stretching across her face as she waved one of her hands to the screen. “You on tv too, look!” She said, turning the camera in the direction of the television screen so Minho could see.

“I know, but I want to see you right now, appa misses you a bunch.” He said softly, his heart clenching knowing that this was the only way he could see his daughter right now, that he wasn’t able to hold her or hug her. It was only a couple days, but times like this made it feel like forever. “You letting momma sleep?” He asked, and he watched her big brown eyes glance over at your passed out form before her head nodded the affirmative.

“It night but my eyes not sleepy yet… I try to sleep, but my eyes say… they say wake up!” She explained and then sighed loudly, her tiny hand moving to her head as she shook it. “I not know what wrong… It crazy!” She continued, and Minho snorted softly, taking a silent moment to adore his daughter and the way she seemed just like you and just like him at the same time, picking up on both of your mannerisms so well in the short 4 years since she had been born.

“It’s hard, isn’t it booboo? You don’t have to go to sleep yet… You can stay on the phone with appa, but you gotta let mommy sleep. She’s really tired.” Minho explained, and your daughters unsteady camera hand allowed him a quick glimpse of you, your lips turned up into a small smile as you dozed peacefully beside her. “Are you having fun?”

The conversation continued on for another two hours, he even got to watch the sunrise through the window behind the bed as he sat on the phone. “I think I sleepy now…” She mumbled, her little lips forming a small o before turning to a pout. “But you not here… What about if I have a bad dream?” And now Minho was pouting once again, his bottom lip jutted out at the thought of not being able to chase away whatever monsters might try to scare his baby.

“What if I sing for you? Will that help keep the bad dreams away?” He asked, his voice softer now as it got later in Korea. She nodded her head fast before getting comfortable against the pillows and pulling the blanket up around her. “You comfy?” He asked, and she gave him a thumbs up before setting the phone down beside her, the view of his daughter now replaced with a still image of the ceiling that was painted orange in the early light of morning.

He sang softly, lullabies that he had heard you singing to her late at night when she was a newborn while rocking her back to sleep. Songs that he had come up with on the spot the moment he first held her in his arms. Lyrics of a love that only a father could know for his child. So many songs, but he didn’t mind, it felt like time had stood still as he listened to the soft breaths coming from his sleeping daughter beside the phone.

“Good morning…” Came your voice, still groggy and laced with sleep. “Did she just now go to sleep?” You questioned, carefully grabbing the phone from beside your daughter's head and bringing into view your half awake face that Minho fell in love with the first time he had spent the night with you and only seemed to love even more each time he seen it.

“Mmhm… And you should go back to sleep… You’ve only had 2 hours of rest, love. You need more.” He quietly proposed the idea, hoping that you’d agree to it. “I’m gonna go to sleep too… The bed is going to feel really empty without you in it though.”

“Two more days and we’ll both be home…” You reminded him with a tired smile, brushing your fingers along the phone screen, wishing you were able to touch him. “I miss you so much…” You tiredly admitted, and Minho could only hum in agreement, knowing that if he opened his mouth to speak the words he’d get teared up again.

“Get some sleep, love. Give my Mimi kisses from me… I’ll call you when I wake up… I love you.” After a short moment of silence, just the two of you staring longingly at each other through the phone screen, the call was ended. The screen went black, but he tapped it once more to see his lockscreen, an image of the three of you together. In two more days it would be like that again… But next time you leave the country to visit family, he’ll be sure to take a couple days off so he can go with you.

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allywthsr · 5 months

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WRAPPING HIS PRESENTS | (l.norris)

summary: you wrap Lando’s presents

wordcount: 1.1k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: like two sexual things, but nothing graphic

notes: what are we thinking?

advent calendar

You sat on the floor in the living room, Lando was currently in the gym, training for the next two hours. It was time to wrap his presents, the rest of the presents, for the other people of your family, were already wrapped and stored away in a closet in the guest room. Now the only things that were missing, were his presents, in front of you laid multiple things you bought for Lando, grabbing the red wrapping paper with little Santa’s and reindeer on it. You took the scissors and cut off a piece of the paper, grabbing the first present, a new hoodie from his favorite brand. You saw him check it out online and you could not not buy it for him, he almost bought it himself, but you could convince him, that you shouldn’t buy yourself things right before Christmas, so he didn’t.

Closing the wrapping paper with a few strips of tape, you took a sticker where you could write his name on it, and wrote ‘Lan’ in your best handwriting, even adding a small bow you bought in a little corner shop.

The next present was a bit more cheesy, it was a keyring for his keychain, made out of glass with his favorite picture of you two put in there, you knew he loved small things like that. It was small, but it meant something to him, and that’s most important.

You grabbed a different wrapping paper, now you had a dark blue one in your hand, and it was covered with golden stars. You didn’t want to go too overboard with his presents, but you knew he would, so you tried to give him something back, even tho you knew you didn’t have to. He was happy if you would give him a kiss on Christmas morning, but you weren’t satisfied with that, you tried to go bigger every year.

The next present was a small silly thing you found on Amazon while checking out, it was a scratch-off movie poster. The two of you could never decide what movie to watch, sometimes the planned movie night ended after one hour because you couldn’t find something to watch, either one of you has seen a film and the other hasn’t, or the genre wasn’t the right one, sometimes you just didn’t find one that fits in the mood and sometimes you couldn’t decide on one, because there are so many movies, you’ve watched together and all the good films have been watched by you two a hundred times. With that scratch-off poster, that problem would be solved and evenings that would be filled with looking through the whole Netflix catalog, while the other was also searching through different movie platforms, would be at least be over for a hundred days. He could just scratch off the material and each movie night, you wouldn’t have this discussion that annoyed both of you.

You, again, cut out a piece of paper and wrapped it around the rolled-up poster, sticking the sticker on it, and writing his name on it.

The next present was a silly present you found in a store, it was a small retro arcade machine, and he loved arcade games. It was a miniature arcade machine that he could take with him wherever he went if he was bored before a race. He would definitely play with it. It had games like Super Mario or Flappy Bird on it, perfect for Lando’s interest, he loved these old games he used to play as a kid. You put the batteries in the slot and wrapped the dark blue wrapping paper around it, closing it off with a few stripes of tape, writing his name on the sticker, and placing a bow on top of it as well, you bought a few bows in a dollar store, that would stick to the present without having to make the bow.

You went all out for presents this year, but you bought most of them on Black Friday, so the hundred and fifty pounds hoodie only cost ninety pounds, what a steal.

The next gift was more a fun gift than an actual useful gift, it was an indoor putting green, the long stripe of fake grass had a slight bend towards the end, so it wasn’t just a straight line that he had to play. He always told you that he hated it, when it rained and he wasn’t able to go golfing, he wanted to buy himself a putting green for the inside for a while now, yet, he never did. Lando could practice his putting skills and his swings, he would love it, it would annoy you for a few weeks, he sure would only do that for some days, but that’s fine. You took another roll of wrapping paper and cut off a piece, wrapping the edges around the box, sealing it with some tape, and sticking the sticker with his name on it.

The main present was a self-made one, a jar filled with three-hundred sixty-five little notes. He can pick one note every day for the next year, on the notes were little compliments, funny sayings, dirty talking, and declarations of love.

You worked on this for multiple days, cutting out three-hundred sixty-five colorful papers, was a task, that took you three days alone. Writing all the notes on the paper took you like a week and a half, it might sound like a lot, but you had to think about three-hundred sixty-five notes and write them on a small piece of paper while Lando does not notice you doing it. And since the winter break started, he was mostly home, so you had to do it when he was training or playing Fortnite or something.

Some examples of the notes are

⁃ thank you for you

⁃ I love you

⁃ I‘m glad my boyfriend has a big cock

⁃ I hope you have a good day

⁃ Thank you for every orgasm

It might be cheesy, but Lando and you are that couple that leaves little sticky notes around the house to make the other happy, the present was basically like the sticky notes but without sticking it somewhere.

You closed the lid from the jar and cut off a big piece of wrapping paper, wrapping it around the glass and closing the paper with tape, and sticking his name on top with it, just like a big bow.

You looked at the presents in front of you, you couldn’t wait for him to open all of them, you were sure he would be happy about every single one.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris one shot #lando imagine #christmas #presents

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delfiore · 5 months

Text

—NOTHING IN THE WORLD BELONGS TO ME (BUT MY LOVE).

pairing: aitana bonmatí x reader

synopsis: a picture of you and aitana making out during a team party is leaked online.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: she's my bbg your honor.

“Thank you. Yeah, call me whenever you need to.”

You ended the phone call and groaned into your hand. It was almost dinnertime, but you had no energy left to even think of cooking after being on the phone for literal hours.

Walking into the living room, you found Aitana watching TV, or rather, the screen was on but she was staring into space somewhere.

“Paolo said it’s murky because we were in a public space, but not really ‘cause it was in the hallway. He’s getting paid to win this case though, and that he will,” you said.

Aitana looked at you briefly with a half smile.

She hasn’t talked much since this morning when the news came. You felt guilty for not having sat with her longer, but you needed to get your attorney involved as soon as possible.

“It’ll be okay, babe, I promise,” you sat next to her and put your arm around her shoulder. Still, she seemed tense.

“Is it . . .” Aitana drew a breath, “is it really that bad? That people know about us now?”

You sighed quietly, pulling your arm away to hold her downcast gaze. “It doesn’t matter. They sold those pictures to the press against our will. They infringed on our rights. I thought you understood that.”

Your tone came out harsher than you anticipated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .”

“No, todo bien.” She shook her head and sat up. “You want takeout or no?”

You mentally cursed at yourself as she turned off the TV. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

You watched her walk over to the island by the kitchen, to pick up her phone.

“Tana,” you said, and she turned around. “Te quiero mucho.”

Aitana mustered up the best smile she could, and you recognized that. She knew you were burdened with the responsibility of talking to attorneys, and you were trying very hard, but she was a bit disappointed that you wanted so badly to stop the pictures from going public. She was never good at the legal part, she didn’t know a lot, but she trusted you to make the right decisions, and she loved you a lot too.

The pictures were taken the night before, while you were out with the team to celebrate another league title win. It was the end of the season, and it would be a few weeks before the summer international break, and your teammates were down to party at a local club for the hard work of another season.

It had been an eventful one, full of trials and tribulations, for you especially. Having undergone a surgery, you were forced to the sidelines for a good chunk of the season. Aitana had been there with you through everything; staying in the hospital after your surgery, preparing your shared home for your foreseeable impediment, reminding you to take your daily meds . . . She was the only reason you were still standing, because the toll the injury took on you physically was a speck compared to how it did on you mentally.

You had gone to get another drink and, upon you returning, found Aitana dancing with some of your teammates on the dance floor. Grinning and shaking your head, you could never get enough of how much of a party animal your girlfriend could become when she was able to. A tint of pink adorned her cheeks when she spotted you and pulled you towards the dance floor with her.

“I’ll take that, thank you,” you pretended to be offended when she took the glass from your hand and took a sip, grimacing as soon as she did. “Ooh! It’s strong!”

“Slow down, baby,” you laughed at her.

Aitana snorted, “lame.” She slung her arm around your neck, as you giggled into her ear. “Come here.”

“Not here,” you shook your head and gently pushed her away.

You could just barely make out a her huff, as she pulled away. “You’re no fun. Let loose for one night, will you?”

A few drinks later, you found yourself with your arm slung around Lucy as the two of you led the disharmonious choir of Barcelona players singing (badly) to the music.

You heard Aitana cackling in the corner as the song finished, doubling over and clapping her hands at your drunken rendition of a Zedd song.

“Let’s go, everyone! Next round’s on me!” You said and your teammates cheered.

Your eyes found your girlfriend by your side, just as she always was, waiting to take care of you and share your happiness.

Her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you to her, as you felt her laughter vibrate against your chest. You had pulled her away from the main floor and into a secluded hallway, or at least it was what you thought in your drunken haze.

Your lips were pressed against hers hungrily, with passion better saved for the privacy of your shared bedroom rather than a packed nightclub. Aitana let out a trembling sigh, enjoying the sweet taste of your kiss and the push and pull of your hands along her body.

“God, you’re so good to me,” you whispered into her lips. “I love you.”

She was oblivious to the storm that was to come when a club-goer snapped a picture of the two of you. Though the lighting left much to be desired, your features were captured perfectly, and within context, people put two and two together.

Aitana was the first to see the photo when she woke up the next morning. Maybe it’s not so bad, she had told herself, at least people know now.

She only regretted seeing the pure bliss on your face disappear the moment you found the picture online, and you had been on-call with your attorney ever since.

You never really shook off the tension that resided between your eyebrows, in the curl of your upper lip, and your shoulders over the next few days. You, Aitana, and the rest of the team were back in pre-season training, and everyone could tell you were stressing over it. Though you took training seriously, there was always a smile on your face even when someone had beaten you in a drill. Yet now, you scowled and kicked the grass whenever you lost the ball, or whenever someone dribbled past you. It got to the point where you got yourself into a scuffle with Lucy. Aitana had looked over at the commotion, and seen you all up in Lucy’s personal space, arguing with her, as a couple of the assistant coaches had to separate you from her.

Aitana hated the pitiful looks her teammates would give her afterwards. She clenched her jaw and watched Jonatan lead you inside for a talk. She was planning on giving you an earful when she caught you alone, but when you emerged with Jonatan, your eyes were bloodshot like you had been crying.

You refused to talk the entire car ride home, even refusing to look at her, opting to look out the window instead.

The moment you got home, you threw your dirty clothes into the laundry and headed upstairs.

“You want me to reheat leftovers, cariño?” She tried to ask.

“No, thanks,” you didn’t even look back. “I’m just gonna go and take a nap.”

You woke up around 8 pm. Aitana knew because she was downstairs watching TV when you skirted down the stairs like an apparition and crept into the kitchen looking for food.

She took the opportunity when you were distracted with dumping the rest of the content from the Tupperware onto a plate. Snaking her arms around your waist, she pressed her head onto your shoulder. She sighed in relief when she felt the warmth of your right hand encircle her own.

“I embarrassed myself today, didn’t I?” You said quietly.

Aitana pursed her lips and pulled you around to look at her. “That wasn’t very nice, no.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into her shoulder.

“It’s not me you need to say sorry to,” your girlfriend sighed and hugged you tightly. “We will be okay, my love.”

“I just think about those picture, and I just . . .” You exhaled sharply and buried your nose into her neck. “Fuck, I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” Aitana frowned, and cupped your cheeks, leaning in. “Why don’t I distract you for a bit?”

Her lips found yours in a tender kiss. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of her touch and her love. Your lips slotted together in a kiss that became more intimate the moment Aitana slipped her hands under your shirt and caressed your pelvis. You groaned as you felt her drag her fingertips towards your back, stretching your waistband and pulling it further out so she could feel further down.

“Fuck . . .” You groaned impatiently, cupping her neck roughly as you used your hips to press her back against the counter.

She was breathless now, one hand in your shorts and the other itching to get your shirt off, but you pulled away before she could do anything.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this today,” you sighed, detaching yourself from her completely to return to making your food.

Aitana watched you put the leftovers into the microwave before leaving you in the kitchen. She understood that you were stressed, but she was thrown off by the way you have been pushing her away the past few days. She knew herself; if she said something, you would say something, and before she knew it things would turn into an argument and someone would say something they didn’t mean.

Pushing the scenario to the back of her head, she headed upstairs to get ready for bed.

In the following days, she felt you pulling away further and further from her. The only times she really saw you were during training, otherwise you would avoid her completely. She spotted you standing in a hallway looking out the window once. Upon approaching you, she noticed you were on the phone with your earbuds in, and against her better judgment, left you be.

Your teammates noticed the sudden rift between you and Aitana too—you two who were always stuck at the hip, you two who turned to each other first in times of victory and defeat, you two whom everyone bet on tying the knot first. Frido was the first to reach out, and had Aitana brushed it off like it was something trivial, but her teammate saw right through the lie. Aitana was Aitana, never asking for help and always having gotten by on her own, but this time her Frido knew it was severe, because Aitana never misses a goal in training, never.

During a match at the weekend, Aitana scored. Usually, she would look to you and jump into your arms to celebrate, but this time, you were already walking back to the halfway line while several of her teammates swarmed her in glee. She felt sick to her stomach, she felt like everything was her fault, and her frustration built and before she knew it, she had stomped on an opponent’s ankle in an attempt to win the ball back. When she realized the weight of the situation, it was already too late; the incident happened just next to the sidelines in front of the assistant referee, and she was shown a red card for using excessive force.

Barcelona won, of course, as they always have, even whilst playing away and down to 10 men. You walked into the dressing room, feeling the on-set fatigue coming on. You glanced at the broken bottle and the puddle of energy drink into one corner of the room, then Aitana sitting in her cubby in the other. You haven’t been very kind to her the past few days, and you doubted that she’d want your comfort anyway because of that. Plus, you weren’t in the mood to talk to her right now; what she did was immature and out of line. What you didn’t know was that she had thrown that bottle across the room and blamed herself, wishing that she’d be able to cry into your arms. Instead, she had pressed her legs to her chest, and hugged herself as she cried alone in that dressing room.

Frido found out, of course; everyone has their breaking point eventually, even the strongest and most resilient. Frido told Ingrid, Ingrid told Mapi, Mapi got angry, and confronted you one day.

In her fury—and maybe in yours too—you didn’t make out everything she hurled at you, but you recognized an insulting word when you heard one. Instead of turning away like you had initially intended, you turned around and lunged at her.

“What did you say to me?! Say it again. I dare you!”

Frido had to drag you away, and it was her stern look alone that de-escalated the situation.

“She started it first!” You shoved her away as you took deep breaths through the worst of your anger.

“She was right to call you that, Y/N. You are a fucking asshole,” she said. You turned around, expecting her to apologize, but you saw no trace of remorse.

“What the fuck?”

“You’re an asshole. You don’t even notice your girlfriend is suffering.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “What did she tell you? That I’ve been busy trying to get these fucking pictures taken down? Because someone violated my privacy? Her privacy? Because I won’t pay attention to her for one goddamn second?”

The Swede scoffed and shook her head. “Listen to yourself. You’ve become despicable. I understand that you’re going through a hard time, but so is Aitana. People are talking about her too. You don’t think she’s also stressed out? She won’t ask you for help because she’s Aitana and she would never ask anyone for help. You knew that better than anyone, yet you’ve left her all alone, you asshole!”

Frido was yelling at you, scolding you like a child. Your anger bubbled, but it soon turned into guilt when her words sunk in.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Y/N. Aitana deserves the respect that everyone has given her, except you.”

She pushed past you roughly, and you felt the weight of her scolding. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and it was an incoming text from your lawyer.

“We have grounds to press charges, and we’ll most likely win if you choose to do so. Let me know what you and Aitana decide on.”

“Fuck”, you locked your phone with an impending need to throw it into the window pane in front of you.

This was what you wanted ever since you saw that picture on Twitter, but now you weren’t sure if it was the right course of action anymore. Your insistence on press charges has made you become a rotten human being, and looking back at the last few days, you didn’t recognize this person you have become. Picking fights with your teammates, being a sore loser in training games, abandoning Aitana. You had no idea what she was thinking the past few days, and it scared you. She used to tell you everything.

Your knees gave out below you, and you felt the exhaustion from the last week come crashing down. You took a seat on a nearby bench and cradled your head in your hands. There was the sound of studs clicking evenly against the ground beside you before the bench strained under the weight of another body.

Looking up you saw Mapi leaning against the bench looking at you with a soft expression.

You were too tired to fight, but you didn’t think Mapi was here to continue where you both left off before, which was why it surprised you that she was here.

“Sorry for calling you a cabró,” she said casually, looking away.

“You’re not wrong,” you muttered. “I am a cabró, the biggest cabró there ever was.”

You felt her strong hand on your shoulder. “Todos cometen errores, amiga. Se trata de si intentas enmendarlo o no. Entonces, ¿lo harás?” (”Everyone makes mistakes, bud. It’s about whether you try to make up for it or not. So, will you?”)

You pursed your lips, finding comfort in Mapi’s generosity. “Where’s Aitana?”

"Viene a casa para pasar la noche con nosotros. Te sugiero que le des espacio y uses este tiempo para reflexionar sobre tus acciones también.” (“She's coming home to stay overnight with us. I suggest you give her some space and use this time to reflect on your actions too.”)

You nodded as Mapi gave you one last pat on the shoulder before taking her leave. You were glad to have friends such as Mapi, Ingrid, and Frido. In your egotism, at least Aitana still had your friends.

Upon returning to an empty home, you felt creeping in a sense of loneliness that you haven’t felt in a long, long time. The last time you felt like this, Barcelona had just won its first ever Champions League in the women’s club history, and you had gone home by yourself after a night out celebrating. Playing in a foreign country, you didn’t feel so isolated until you witness your teammates celebrating wins with their family, friends, and significant others. Your loneliness was short-lived though, as it was Aitana that came knocking on your door, wanting to stay with you. It was the night of your first kiss, and the night from which you hadn’t felt lonely ever since.

There hasn’t been a text or call from Aitana at all, and you knew you had fucked up big time.

“Can’t begin to say how sorry I am for the way I’ve been treating you,” you texted her. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll pick you up from Mapi’s and there will be love waiting for you at home.”

You spent the rest of the night watching TV, keeping your phone by your side at all times in case your girlfriend wanted to reach you, but the screen stayed black the entire time.

At Mapi and Ingrid’s, Aitana was laughing at something Mapi had said. The three women were slightly buzzed from the wine they had drunken earlier at dinner, and Aitana had felt lighter than she has the entire week. She saw your text as soon as it was sent to her phone, but opted not to response for her own peace of mind. Despite her heart still aching when she thought about the way you acted, she couldn’t help the little smile that made its way onto her lips reading it.

She will always be able to find it in her somewhere to love you, and she could only hope that you could do the same for her because she would rather go through thunderstorms with you than lie in a field of roses with someone new.

You jolted as you thought you might have forgotten the house keys when you walked up to Mapi and Ingrid’s. Patting your back pocket, you were quickly reassured that you had them with you, as you made a mental note of where everything was.

Ingrid opened the door for you with a smile, and invited you inside.

“Pretty flowers,” she said, gesturing at the large bouquet you had in your hands.

You smiled proudly and muttered a ‘thank you’. You eyes quickly found your girlfriend conversing with Mapi by the kitchen island, and your heart began beating wildly.

Her eyes landed on you, as you had half-expected a disapproving frown and her ignoring you to carry on her conversation. Instead, she offered you a smile and walked towards you.

“Hi,” you said. Attempting to say any more than that and you risked looking like a blabbering buffoon from the mess of a mind you had.

“Hi,” she mirrored your tone in a teasing manner. “Is that for me?”

“Oh, yeah. Here you go,” you handed her the bouquet and said goodbye to Mapi and Ingrid.

“Thank you,” you whispered to the both of them after Aitana had gotten into the car. The ride home was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. You would look over once in a while, seeing her watch the scenery flash by through the window. At a red light, you gathered the courage to reach out and grab her hand. This elicited a giggle from the girl, as you brought her hand up to kiss the back of it just as the light turned green.

Aitana stopped by the door the moment she saw your apartment. It was spotless, everything was clean and tidy, and lit by the few lamps you had chosen to leave on, casting a warm glow over the entire place. The dinner table had been set like it belonged in a high-end restaurant, with a white tablecloth set perfectly across the middle and a few candles to highlight.

“I got antsy at home, so I decided to clean up a bit. Hopefully, it doesn’t look too sterile,” you laughed and scratched the back of your neck.

“No, it’s . . . it’s perfect.”

You smiled bashfully and offered to take the flowers for her. There was hesitancy in the way you stepped away from her to prepare the bouquet to put them in a vase like the distance might dilute this warm air between you. You didn’t want to be away from her for too long; you had suffered the past couple of days without her.

When you returned, Aitana was on the couch on her phone. From the way she instantly looked up from it as she heard you coming in, you reckoned she was nervous too. You placed the vase on the dinner table and took a seat next to her.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“I know,” Aitana said, and stroked your head.

Taking a deep breath, you put your head on her lap, and tried to steady your breathing.

“I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you. You didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry for leaving you alone.” You spewed, trying your very best to form coherent words out of the thoughts that have been racing in your head for days. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me. You’ve always been so good to me, and I hate myself for not doing the same for you when it mattered.”

Aitana was quiet, but from the way her breath trembled as she drew it, you could tell she was trying not to cry, and it made you tear up too.

You sat up and held her gaze. “I won’t let something that was out of my hands destroy us. I may not be able to control it when someone posts a picture of us, but I can control how I react to it.”

“What did Paolo say?” Aitana questioned.

“That we’ll win if we press charges, but I’m tired of letting this consume me. So I’ll let you decide whether we do or not.”

Aitana pursed her lips. “I don’t think it’s worth it. I’m sorry we weren’t able to tell the world about us ourselves, but I’m glad it’s out there now.”

You nodded and smiled at her, “I’m so sorry.”

Shaking her head, she pulled you into her chest. “I forgive you,” she planted a kiss on your forehead. “You’re my love. I love you so much. I didn’t want to burden you.”

You nodded, unable to hold back the tears this time. “Don’t be scared to talk to me next time. I’ll always be here to listen from now on.”

Aitana wiped her tears away, and nodded, bringing you in for a soft kiss. She whispered repeatedly how much she loved you, and you could only silently thank the universe for giving you the love of such a good woman.

You spent the rest of the evening in her arms as you discussed how things could be better in your relationship, and when dinner time rolled around, the two of you went into the kitchen to prepare food together.

At the end of the night, you posted a picture of Aitana on your Instagram story. ‘My love mine all mine’, you had captioned it, before putting your phone on silent. The mayhem was looming, but you may just have enough to power through the sudden limelight that was waiting to point toward you, and those hazel eyes made it all worth it.

#aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmatí x reader #aitana bonmati imagine #aitana bonmatí imagines #aitana bonmati #aitana bonmatí #aitana bonmati angst #woso fanfics #woso imagines #woso x reader #ingrid engen #fridolina rolfö #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #lucy bronze

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