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yandere-writer-momo · 6 months

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No one asked but I’ve decided to post one of my favorite original smut works!

Yandere Short Story: Insatiable

Yandere monster x Afab reader x Yandere ex fiancé

Minors DNI

8.4k words

“Cedric?” A tall, dark haired man glanced up from his paper work to see his small wife at the door. His red eyes gazing at her coldly. “Oh, sorry… my lord. You didn’t reply to any of my letters so I decided to come see you myself. I was wondering if you had time to-“

“I’m busy with work. How about you go take a walk or something seeing that you’re not busy with anything.” Cedric replied coldly, causing the young woman to glance sadly at her hands.

“Oh… I’m sorry-“

“Stop with your needless apologies and shut my door. You’re letting the cold air in.” Cedric hissed before returning to his mountain of paper work.

“Good bye, my lord.” (Your name) softly whispered, a sad look in her eye. The young woman shutting the door before looking at the small, cloth bag beside her. Its contents being one change of clothes, a pouch of water, and some bread.

(Your name) had finally decided to leave him. Her feelings for him had gradually disappeared over the years of being engaged to him seeing that he couldn’t even return a fraction of what she felt for him. It was time for her to leave this loveless, joyless place and to go live as a commoner. Hopefully Cedric would eventually read the letter she had sent him a few days ago about annulling their marriage.

The young woman pulled her tattered cloak over her head, making her way down the manor’s steps with ease.

Not a single servant paying her any mind. A smile made its way to her lips at the thought of finally no longer having to sit in her cold room up in the tower. How she’d be able to travel wherever she wanted and maybe she’d even find someone to love her eventually. How she could finally have friends that didn’t need her husband to pay them to talk to her.

(Your name) soon stood outside the gloomy palace, a smile on her lips. The young woman giving the palace one last look before she headed into the forest.

“Good bye. I won’t miss you.” She then headed into the dark silent forest. Set on leaving the Southern empire forever.

“This tea is bland and terrible.” Cedric complained to his maid who began to sweat nervously. “Why isn’t it here on its usual time and why isn’t it its normal flavor?”

“Ah… the duchess usually takes care of that…” the maid replied before giving the lord a bow. “None of us have seen her in awhile so we had to brew some older leaves.”

Cedric sighed before rising from his chair, causing the maid to gulp at how large he was.

“That stupid woman. I’ll go see what she’s up to now then I guess.” Cedric made his way towards the east end of the manor, climbing up the flight of stairs to (your name)’s room.

A frown forming on his face when he didn’t see a single servant on this side of the manor. Where were all the servants? Shouldn’t she have some around here to clean it?

Cedric stood before the door at the top of the tower. His hand pressing against the old wood. A frown on his face.

“My lady. Can you open the door?” No response.

“My lady?” Cedric pressed his knuckle against the door, causing the door to squeal open. Red eyes widening in shock at the tattered blanket that sat on top of a pile of hay. This couldn’t be her room…

Where was her bed? Her dresses? Cedric burst into the room examining everything in disbelief.

“Can I lay with you, Cedric? It’s starting to get cold?”

Cedric frowned at the memory. (Your name) really was cold wasn’t she? And he always turned her away…

A small desk with letters littering the top of it caught his attention. Was this the only thing she had in her room? As a duchess, she only had this small desk?

Red eyes narrowed at all the letters that were dated and addressed to him. Cedric quickly opened one of the older letters his eyes softening at its contents.

‘I finally was able to get the maids to teach me how to make that chamomile tea you like so much. I hope we’ll be able to drink it together someday. When you’re not busy of course. I love you, Cedric.’

Cedric opened another letter, a dried sprig of baby’s breath falling out of the envelop. His pale fingers picking it up with utmost care. Red eyes scanning over the delicate hand writing.

‘Did you know baby’s breath means everlasting love? Isn’t that neat? I hope that our love is ever lasting as well. I’d like to go on a picnic with you while it’s still spring. If you’re not busy of course. I love you, Cedric.’

‘Today, I saw a pair of swans in the pond in the garden. Did you know swans stay together for life? I read that in a book in the library. I thought it was pretty neat. Maybe it’s childish of me to think that way, but I hope we’ll be like that. I love you, Cedric.’

Cedric continued to tear apart the letters with fervor. Sweat dripping down his neck as his hands began to shake. All of these letters and he’s never read any of them from her… he always returned them back to her… always ignored her… he was starting to get scared…

‘It’s getting colder up in the tower but the maids took my bed. They said they’re freezing too. Is there anyway I could also have some new blankets. I hope that’s not too much of a bother for you. Thank you. I love you, Cedric.’

‘I’ve been sleeping in the library over the winter. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your work. I heard there’s a ball upcoming in the neighboring empire. I’ve never been to a ball before. Is there anyway we could go? I’d really like a new dress. The one I had all these years is starting to get a little loose since we’re so scarce on food. Thank you. I love you, Cedric.’

There was no scarcity in food. Who on earth hadn’t the servants been feeding her? Who took her bed? Her blankets?

Cedric sorted through the letters until the last one stuck out to him.

His pale hand opened the letter, his eyes widening in shock. She had filled out divorce papers… why would she do that?

‘I don’t think you’re ever going to read this until you’ve realized I left. But I want a divorce. I can’t live like this. It’s so cold and miserable here. No one talks to me here. I found out that the only acquaintance I had here, you were paying to talk to me so I wouldn’t bother you… and I was really hurt by that. If I’m really that awful to be with, I’ll go. I just want you to be happy, Cedric. Even if it’s not with me. So good bye, Cedric. If you try to have a conversation with me in a few days I may reconsider but if not, you’ll find this then. I’ll probably be halfway through the forest by then. Good bye, Cedric.’

Cedric began to shake. She had stopped by his office and he had turned her away… he unknowingly sent her away… he sent his loving wife away in the wild… wait.

Didn’t she know the forest was infested with monsters?

“Guards! Hurry. Send a search party to the forest, now!” Cedric threw the letter to the side, screaming on the top of his lungs. His legs running as fast as he could down the steps and through the palace.

The guards rising up in shock before quickly springing into action.

“The duchess has gone missing! She could be in danger!” Cedric shouted, the Duke running to grab his sword and horse. “We have to find her by all means necessary!”

Cedric frowned as he glanced at the dark forest. His eyebrows furrowed in worry. He prayed she was safe. He was so lucky he noticed her absence in just a day…

(Your name) hummed as she walked through the forest without a care in the world. So far, she’s been lucky and she hasn’t ran into a single monster.

She knew there was a possibility she could run into danger but she truly believed the monsters wouldn’t bother her if she didn’t have a weapon on her. Plus, there wasn’t much meat on her bones since she wasn’t being fed at the palace.

“Don’t you know there’s monsters in the woods?” A voice hissed at (your name), causing the girl to glance at a tall man wearing silver armor with an unfamiliar, blue crest on it. The silver helmet completely covering his face.

Well at this point in her journey, she’s going to disregard the stranger danger rule.

“Oh I know. I’m just passing through is all.”

“Either you’re a very brave woman or a very stupid one.” A laugh left her throat as she smiled at the stranger.

“A little of both. I’m just going anywhere to start a new.” The girl smiled at the knight before continuing her way.

“Wait up!” The male trudged after her, standing above her. “You can’t just go walking in the forest by yourself. What if you get kidnapped or killed-“

“Then I get kidnapped or killed.” The knight held in a laugh before offering her an arm.

“I can lead you out of the forest if you’d like. My name is Etrian by the way.”

“That’s a nice name.” (Your name) replied, taking the knights arm. “You can just call me (your first name).”

“Hmm. You have a pretty name.” Etrian smiled at the girl, causing her to furrow her brow.

“It’s a very basic name. It’s not even worth remembering so you can call me anything you’d like.” Etrian tilted his helmet down in worry at her words. Wherever she came from, she more than likely never was treated with kindness.

“I like your name so I’ll call you, (your name).” Etrian replied, causing (your name) to giggle.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed… thank you, Etrian.” Etrian gave (your name)’s hand a comforting squeeze.

“I was on my way to the Lancaster Palace but I think a damsel in distress is much more important at the moment.” Etrian puffed his chest out, causing (your name) to erupt in giggles again.

“Maybe I should call you the brave one then for traveling alone, Etrian.” (Your name) gave Etrian a smile, the male shaking his head in embarrassment.

“It’s a knight’s duty.”

(Your name) laughed some more, allowing Etrian to lead her through the forest. Their playful banter continuing.

Cedric searched the woods with fervor. Easily slaying any monster that crossed paths with them.

“My lord. We found the body of the Northern empire’s diplomat and his party but…”

“But what? Did you find the Duchess?!” Cedric hissed, his red eyes coldly looking at the corpses of the northern empire’s men. But one was missing their armor.

“Where’s his armor?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. It appears a monster may be parading around as a knight.” Cedric sighed before glancing nervously in the forest. He really hoped (your name) didn’t run into that monster…

“Etrian. Do you like being a knight?” (Your name) asked her companion who hummed in response.

“Not really. It’s kind of boring actually.” Etrian responded, his eyes glancing at (your name). “Especially listening to a lord’s orders all the time and standing guard? It sucks.”

(Your name) laughed at his response. “At least you’re honest, Etrian.”

“What about you, (your name)? What were you?”

(Your name) smiled sadly as she glanced at the forest floor, causing Etrian to raise his hands up in alarm.

“Oh I didn’t mean to upset you-“

“I was nothing.” (Your name) replied with a solemn look in her eye. “Have you ever felt like that before? Like nothing? My existence didn’t matter where I came from before and after I ended up here.”

Etrian placed a gentle, leather gloved hand on (your name)’s arm. “No I understand completely.”

“Thanks, Etrian. You’re really nice even though I think you’re really strange.”

“How am I strange?”

“You abandoned the task at hand for me, which is very suspicious. But I appreciate you traveling and talking with me… I can’t remember the last time I actually had a conversation with someone.”

Etrian gave her a nod, trying his best not to have his helmet fall off his head.

“Isn’t that helmet uncomfortable? You could always take it off.” Etrian held up his hands as he began to laugh.

“Maybe once we make it out of the forest.”

“Alright. Keep your secrets then.” (Your name) giggled, Etrian watched her walk a little further a head. A black tentacle creeping out from the helmet before quickly slipping back in.

Cedric continued searching, a smile on his face once he saw a pair of footprints.

“She went this way!” Cedric shouted to his men. The men all nodding their heads before following the tracks. “She can’t be far-“

Cedric’s red eyes widened when he saw a second pair of footprints beside hers. Their tracks barely as visible as hers.

“The monster is with her!” Cedric began to breath heavily, his hands shaking as he held the reigns to his horse tightly. He was going to find her. Cedric just prayed nothing happened to her.

“Etrian. You’re really light on your toes.” (Your name) stated, causing Etrian to laugh. “Do you like sneaking around?”

“It’s just an unconscious habit of mine-“ an arrow whizzed by Etrian’s head, causing a scream to leave (your name)’s throat.

“Jesus-“

“My lady, step away from the monster!” one of the knights from the southern empire shouted, pointing his bow and arrow at Etrian.

“Monster? That’s Etrian-“ (your name) replied, only for more knights to show up.

“One of the knight’s armor was missing at the carriage accident up ahead-“

“I can actually explain that.” Etrian replied as he grasped the helmet of his armor before pulling it off. Revealing a handsome man with long silver hair and blue eyes to all the knights. “It’s me. Duke Graham.”

“Duke Graham?! I can’t believe it’s you!” One of the knights laughed, the others all releasing their breath that they were unconsciously holding. “You were the only one missing from the carriage.”

(Your name)’s eyes widened in horror. While everyone else saw a handsome man, she saw a giant black octopus like creature as the head of the knight. Her body started convulsing in shivers.

“Are you alright, (your name)?” Etrian asked with worry laced in his voice, reaching a hand out to her. The tentacles moving in every which way, causing (your name) to hyperventilate and take a step back in fear.

“(Your name)!” Cedric rushed over to her, quickly separating her from the monstrous Duke. Cedric quickly dismounting his horse to hold (your name). “I’m so sorry. Please don’t run off again.”

(Your name) didn’t return Cedric’s hug, her eyes focused on the black octopus monster that was known as Etrian.

“Let’s head back home, okay? And Duke Graham. You can ride on one of the other horses we have here with one of the knights. My wife will ride with me.” Cedric stated, hoisting (your name) up on his horse.

(Your name) cast one last look at Etrian, the tentacles waving at her which on caused her to tear up even more.

While with the guards, they only saw Etrian give (your name) a warm smile and a wave. Why was she so scared of him? It wasn’t like she was seeing a monster.

“Why did you try to run off into the forest?” Cedric asked (your name) who sat in the sofa in his office with a blanket tightly wrapped around her. “You could’ve died-“

“It would’ve been better than being here.” (Your name) muttered, pulling the soft blanket closer to herself. “Anything is better than here.”

Cedric stood up from his desk, sitting himself beside (your name).

“I’m going to start being a better husband. I moved your room to be next to mine now and you have a bed again. I also am currently working on investigating all of the staff that has mistreated you. They’re going to have their hands cut off for stealing and then exiled-“

“That’s alright. You don’t have to do any of those things.” (Your name) sighed, wrapping the blanket around her even tighter. “I would like to head to my room. I’m quite tired.”

Cedric held a hand out for (your name) to take, which she ignored. The young woman choosing to stand up with her blanket securely wrapped around her.

“Would you like to have dinner together then?”

“No. Just send it to my room please. It’s kind of late for all of those things, don’t you think?” (Your name) asked, avoiding eye contact with Cedric.

“I… I’ll try more. Just please don’t run off like that again.”

(Your name) opened the door to her room before shutting it quickly. The duchess laying down on the bed in defeat. She really was wishing she would’ve left this place.

It was a shame Cedric had no intention of letting her go. Not to mention that Etrian was also staying with them for the time being.

Etrian sat in Cedric’s office sipping some hot tea. Blue eyes meeting red orbs.

“Thanks for keeping my wife safe-“

“Why did she run off?” Etrian hummed, causing Cedric to glare at him.

“It’s none of your concern, Duke Graham.” Cedric hissed, causing Etrian to smile. Cedric narrowed his eyes at the doll like man.

“She’s really pretty.” Etrian smiled at the peeved expression on Cedric’s face.

“What brings you to the Southern Empire?” Cedric gritted his teeth at Etrian who only gave him a hum.

“Mostly for trading business but seeing that my men were mauled to death and looted by your monster infested forest, I’ll have to wait awhile till we can proceed in business. I may have to stay here awhile as well.”

Cedric sighed in defeat. His red eyes narrowing at Etrian. This was probably the most Etrian has spoken to Cedric in their entire life so far… and it irked Cedric.

“Alright. I can let you stay for awhile. Just please don’t cause any trouble for me.”

“I won’t.” Etrian smiled, causing Cedric to place a hand on his temple.

“I’ll have the maids organize a room for you.”

Etrian beamed at Cedric, his blue orbs shining mischievously. He couldn’t wait to see (your name) again.

Etrian wandered the halls, ignoring the excited whispers of the maids when he passed by. The silver haired man had adjusted well to the staff’s ramblings of his appearance.

“Isn’t Duke Graham really handsome?” One of the maids asked another, causing the other maid to nod in agreement.

“Just like a porcelain doll.”

“I heard he’s unmarried.”

Etrian made his way over to the library, his blue eyes widening once he saw (your name) sitting in a chair in the far back corner. Her focus completely on the book in front of her.

“Ah. (Your name).” Etrian smiled at the duchess, who gave him a nervous glance. Her eyes completely avoiding eye contact with him. “May I sit with you?”

“S-sure.” Etrian pulled out the chair beside (your name), the wooden legs squealing across the floor.

“What are you reading?” Etrian asked, causing (your name) to nervously glance up from her book.

“Oh it’s just a fairy tale story…” (your name) shyly replied causing Etrian to furrow his brow.

“I’m quite fond of fairy tales. Which one is it?”

“Beauty and the beast...”

“That’s my favorite one.” Etrian smiled, his tentacles flailing around excitedly, much to (your name)’s fear. “My mother used to read it to me all the time as a child.”

“That’s really nice.” Etrian tentacles suddenly laid flat on the table, one of them laying on (your name)’s shoulder as if to show that he was concerned for her.

“What’s wrong? You haven’t really looked at me since the forest.” (Your name) gulped, her hands trembling when the tentacles began to slowly caress her body.

“I… I’ve just never seen anyone that looks like you is all…” (your name) replied honestly. She wasn’t wrong. She’s never seen someone with a black octopus like head before and she was terrified.

“Oh… is my appearance not to your liking-“

“My lady. The lord is looking for you.” The butler interrupted her and Etrian’s conversation, the young woman quickly rising up to her feet.

“Ah. Sorry, Etrian. I have to get going.”

Etrian clutched his chest, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Could she really see him for what he truly was?

Etrian glanced at the book she was reading in awe. Was their story going to be just like beauty and the beast? Pure ecstasy consuming him.

She had to be just like his dad. His mom always told him his soul mate would be able to see his true form just like dad could see hers.

“(Your name)…” Etrian couldn’t wait to find out.

“You called for me, my lord?” (Your name) bowed her head to Etrian, who frowned at her formality.

“I did call for you, (your name).” Cedric motioned for his butler to go bring some tea for the two of them. “I’d like to have some tea with you-“

“I’m not very fond of tea.” (Your name) wrapped her arms around herself, ignoring the disappointed look on Cedric’s face. “But thank you for the invite.”

“How about a walk in the garden? You love the garden.” Cedric asked, a hopeful tune in his voice. (Your name) frowned. Didn’t he acknowledge that she had sent him divorce papers? Why on earth was he trying to court her now, of all times?

“Alright…” Cedric held out an arm for her, which (your name) hesitantly took. The dark haired Duke leading her down the halls and towards the garden.

A certain silver haired man watching them from the library’s window. His blue eyes studying the discomfort on (your name)’s face.

“You’re not comfortable around that man are you, (your name)?” Etrian softly whispered to himself, his blue eyes memorizing her soft features on her pretty face. “I wonder if I can make you smile again…”

Etrian’s shadow revealed his tentacles flailing about in excitement. The birds that sat near the window quickly flying away in fear of the monster that was in the palace.

It was a stiff silence between Cedric and (your name). The two walking side by side in the garden without muttering a word to each other.

“There’s some swans in the pond, (your name)…” Cedric smiled, softly breaking the silence. His red eyes glancing at her face, his eyes lighting up when he saw her smile at the swan pair.

He had finally found something that seemed to make her smile… Cedric was starting to get really worried about saving their relationship, especially with someone like Etrian in their home. Cedric had to admit that he was jealous of how beautiful Etrian was but he felt that there was something incredibly off about the silver haired male. Even when they were children, he was almost completely emotionless but he wasn’t that way around (your name)… it was very unsettling to Cedric.

“(Your name), do you like Etrian?” (Your name) froze, her eyes wide at Cedric’s question.

“I wouldn’t say like or dislike… I’m…” Afraid. (Your name) thought to herself. I’m afraid of him. “Indifferent towards him. He’s a Duke from the northern empire so I have to be respectful to him is all.”

Cedric hummed, the Duke satisfied with her answer. His wife was a very respectful young lady, he didn’t doubt her answer at all.

(Your name) narrowed her eyes at Cedric. Cedric couldn’t be jealous, could he? It wasn’t his place after years of being together without him ever caring about her personal life or feelings.

“It’s cold. I’m ready to head back inside.” The couple made their way back in, unaware that Etrian had overheard their conversation.

The silver haired man determined to have (your name) change her mind about him.

Etrian had found out many things about (your name) over the last few weeks he’s been staying in the Lancaster’s palace.

(Your name) used to live in a tower here, she didn’t like tea, she liked to write and read, her favorite food was (favorite food), she liked to eat pudding sometimes as well, her favorite color was (favorite color), and she was almost always alone. Just like Etrian usually was.

Etrian was thrilled to be finding out all this information from the maids who were more than thrilled to talk to him. The Duke was especially happy that one of the maids had even slipped up and told him that (your name) was trying to divorce the Duke. It made Etrian’s heart soar at the thought of (your name) being on the market for marriage.

It wasn’t very hard for him to bribe one of the maids into sending that paper work to the emperor either. Which would make his end goal even easier to achieve.

Etrian peaked his head in the library, a smile on his face when he saw (your name) sitting in a chair, sketching some birds that sat in the window. He’d have to add drawing to his mental list of her hobbies.

“Hello, (your name).” (Your name) nearly jumped out of her shoes when Etrian snuck up behind her. One of his tentacles affectionately caressing her cheeks, something she tried to ignore.

“H-hi, Etrian.” (Your name) responded quietly. Placing her pencil down on the table.

“I haven’t seen you in a minute. I missed seeing you around.” (Your name) tried to hold her tears in when his tentacles slowly began to wrap around her body, caressing her affectionately.

Over the course of Etrian’s stay, she’s noticed that his tentacles tend to tell his emotions. She could tell when he was excited, upset, annoyed, happy, or even sad. And the tentacles were especially fond of her, touching her any chance they got, much to her displeasure.

“I’ve been around. I’ve just been spending a lot of time with my husband is all.” (Your name) tried not to flinch when she saw the tentacles suddenly point at her like swords. It’s seems she upset Etrian by mentioning Cedric. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

The tentacles instantly relaxed, going back to their idle position of affectionately caressing her.

“How about you draw me?” Etrian asked, a soft smile on his lips. He really wanted to know how (your name) saw him.

(Your name) smiled, opening a new page to her sketchbook, her body shaking when Etrian took a seat in front of her. The black tentacles retracting into themselves, as if they too, were folding together like his black gloved hands on the table.

(Your name) shakily got to work. Tears gathering in her eyes as she continued sketching the monster she saw in front of her.

Etrian frowned at her nervous expression. Why was she so nervous? Didn’t she understand that they were soulmates because she could see him?

(Your name) glanced up, her face going pale when she saw two tentacles directly pointed at her eyes. The tentacles opening up to reveal two icy blue eyes staring directly at her.

Etrian smiled brightly. She finally made eye contact with him-

A lord thump was heard, (your name) had fallen out of her chair. Etrian quickly rose up, his hand grasping (your name)’s shoulders, helping her up.

“Are you alright, (your name)?” His eyes widened at the drawing that she had made so far. A dark octopus like head sat on top of his body, a deranged smile crawling on Etrian’s lips. He was so excited. She could see him.

“I-I’m sorry, Etrian. I… I need to go.” (Your name) stuttered out before she grabbed her book. “I’ll see you around!”

Etrian could only watch as she took off, his blue eyes glancing at the pencil she had dropped in excitement.

She could see him… she could see him. The real him. The monstrous curse his mother and him both had.

Etrian picked up the discarded pencil, blue eyes glancing around the library, making sure no one was watching him.

Etrian then placed the pencil in his mouth, suckling on the wooden utensil as his eyes rolled back in his head. Etrian wondered how her fingers would taste in his mouth when he-

Oh he was getting a little too far ahead of himself. He needed to calm down a bit before revealing his insatiable lust for her.

A very disturbed Cedric stood outside of the library. Why in the world was Etrian eating a pencil?

The dark haired Duke now more determined than ever to keep Etrian away from his wife. By all means necessary.

(Your name) laid in her bed. Her form covered in a lightweight, white gown. It was a little chilly at night, but nothing she couldn’t manage. It was the feeling of eyes on her that she couldn’t shake off.

(Your name) slowly rose from the bed, shutting the curtain to her balcony. The feeling still not leaving her. Perhaps she was being paranoid after the library incident.

(Your name) made her way back to bed, the duchess pulling as many blankets as she could on top of herself. Maybe if she went to sleep, she’d be able to relax?

As (your name) drifted off, she failed to notice a body laying under her bed. A certain silver haired man crawled out from underneath her bed before he stood over her, blue eyes greedily taking in the sight before him.

Tentacles gently began to caress her body, a soft groan leaving her throat before she unconsciously cuddled into the warm appendages, causing a smile to crawl on Etrian’s face.

He knew she would grow used to him. Maybe if he started visiting her every night, she’d stop fearing him as much. Etrian reached a hand out to brush some of her hair out of her face.

His soulmate was so pretty and cute… he couldn’t wait to steal her away from here…

Etrian hummed before walking over to her little desk in the corner. The male setting down a small (favorite flavor) pudding on her desk.

Hopefully she’d like his little surprise for her.

(Your name) had terrible nightmares last night about a certain tentacle man. Her body covered in a light sheen of sweat.

“My lady, your husband would like to have breakfast with you.” One of the maids said at the door, the maid’s eyes widening at the helping of pudding on (your name)’s desk. “Did you order pudding last night?”

“Pudding?” (Your name) furrowed her brow in confusion before her eyes widened in shock at the (favorite flavor) pudding that sat on her desk. “I didn’t ask for pudding…”

(Your name) smiled softly. Maybe Cedric had gotten her some. He has been a lot more attentive lately.

“Tell him I’ll be there. I just have to clean up a bit.”

The maid nodded before heading off, leaving (your name) to wonder who left her the mystery pudding.

“Thank you for the pudding, Cedric.” Cedric furrowed his brow in confusion at (your name)’s statement. “It was a nice sweet treat to have after a nightmare last night.”

“Pudding? I never sent you pudding.” (Your name)’s face turned pale at Cedric’s words, a concerned look now on Cedric’s face as well.

“Then who knew I liked pudding and even my favorite flavor?” (Your name) nervously glanced over to the side. A certain man with a black octopus head, began to flail around excitedly before holding its tentacles like a shy school girl. And why were they slightly wet this time?

Cedric followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing at the stoic Duke. There was no way Etrian was holding a torch for his wife right? Etrian wouldn’t sneak into her room to drop off pudding… no. Etrian was eating a pencil the other day. There was a chance Etrian was weird enough to break into a lady’s room.

“Good morning, Duke and Duchess Lancaster.” Etrian bowed to the other dukes, his blue eyes studying Cedric face while his tentacles excitedly rubbed (your name) face. “I will be heading back to my empire in a week. I had a lovely stay here.”

“I’m happy to hear that, Duke Graham.” Cedric gave Etrian a tight lipped smile, red eyes focused on the uncomfortable expression on (your name)’s face.

“I also heard a fun little rumor during my stay here.” Etrian placed a hand over his chin, an amused expression on his face. “I heard you two are getting a divorce.”

“That isn’t going to happen now-“

“Well you should’ve told that one little maid. Seems she sent the paperwork over to the emperor-“ Cedric quickly rose to his feet, his loud voice booming at the staff to quickly intercept the letter to the emperor.

Etrian and (your name) now the only two left in the dining room. Etrian turned his head towards (your name), causing her to gulp in fear.

“You’ll be single by the end of this week and I’ll be leaving home. When the emperor gets that letter, you’ll be demoted to a commoner.” Etrian cooed, his tentacles tightly wrapping around (your name), Etrian pulling her hand up to his face. Her body flinching when she felt his soft lips press against her hand. “So why don’t you become my wife? You won’t have to live as a commoner then and I’ll treat you well. Plus you can see what no one else can…”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. You can see me. The real me. And I can show you pleasure you’ve never felt before. Just think about it. I have 8 extra appendages compared to the average man.” Etrian whispered in her ear. “I’m also one of the richest men in the four empires. You’ll never have to struggle or starve again.”

“Why me?” (Your name) whimpered, the tentacles slowly moving lower on her body, a few teasingly squeezing her legs and hips.

“Because you can see me just like my dad can see my mom. Don’t you get it? We’re soulmates, baby.”

(Your name) nearly cried when he pulled away. The tentacles smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothes.

“Just think about it, okay?” Etrian smiled, the tentacles flailing around excitedly. “I promise you’ll be very happy.”

“You bastard!” An angry Cedric hissed, a fist colliding into Etrian’s face, the silver haired man barely moving. The tentacles now pointing at Cedric like swords, causing (your name) to freeze in terror. “Why would you do that?! You sent that letter a week ago-“

“You don’t appreciate your wife. I found all those letters, Cedric.” A taunting chuckle escaped Etrian’s throat, the tentacles sharpening as they prepared to strike Cedric at any moment. “You’ve probably never even touched her-“

“Please stop!” (Your name) stood in between the two, tears cascading down her face. Cedric’s heart clenching at her terrified expression. It was just an argument, why was she so scared? “I’ll go with you. Just please don’t hurt Cedric. Please…”

Cedric froze when he saw the thrilled smile on Etrian’s face. Leather gloves hands held (your name) face with such tenderness, it made Cedric sick to his stomach.

“I’ll make you so happy. You’ll never be sad again.” Etrian cooed, his blue eyes gleaming at Cedric. “You can stay in my room for the time being seeing to it that you’re now a single woman. I’ll get you a nice pretty ring when we reach my empire.”

“What does he mean (your name)? You’re not going to marry him are you?” Cedric froze at the defeated look on (your name)’s face. Her (eye color) orbs tiredly glancing at Cedric.

“I’m sorry, Cedric.” Cedric could only hug himself as he watched his wife be dragged away by Etrian. The silver haired Duke excitedly droning on and on about how much she was going to love their new life together.

Cedric peaked through the doorway of (your name) and Etrian’s room. His heart clenching when he saw how he tenderly held her in his arms.

It wasn’t fair… if Cedric never messed up, she would’ve never met Etrian… she would’ve never divorced him… they’d still be happy…

But were they ever happy? No… Cedric couldn’t remember the last time they shared a smile together or even a dance. Cedric never really deserved her… but he didn’t think Etrian did either.

Cedric could only watch as (your name) and Etrian headed off to the northern empire in a carriage together. The silver haired man fretting over her every need while Cedric could only watch from his study’s window in utter distaste and envy.

“My lord, she left you a sketchbook.” Cedric glanced at the book, tears gather in his eyes as he looked at all the intricate drawings of birds. The swans being his favorite.

The last drawing was what made Cedric’s blood run cold. A terrifying eldritch monster with a black octopus head over Etrian’s body stared back at him, a small note in the bottom of making a shiver run down Cedric’s spine.

‘I can see him, Cedric. He likes that I can see him. Help me.’

Now Cedric knew why she was so terrified of Etrian… it was because he was a monster.

“I can’t wait for you to meet my mother.” Etrian cooed, his tentacles excitedly flailing around the carriage. One grasping (your name)’s chin. “You’ll like her.”

“(Your name)… are you sad?” Etrian asked, the male grasping her hands in his gloved ones. “You won’t ever feel like nothing here. I’ll treat you to whatever you like.”

(Your name) could only fully glance out the window. Her heart aching as she began to miss Cedric. She hoped he would at least be happy…

A tentacle suddenly gave her a tight squeeze while another forced her head to look at Etrian. Smooth lips pressing against her own, her body shaking in fear as the tentacles began to grope her body.

Etrian pulled away, her eyes widening when she finally got to see some semblance of a face on the man. A smile crawling on Etrian’s face.

“There. Don’t think of other men around me. I don’t like it.”

(Your name) could only silently cry as Etrian continued to press kisses on her face. His lips burning her with the passion he held for her.

“We’re going to have our wedding in a few days time once we arrive. Is there somewhere you’d like to go? Or something you’d like to do when we get there?”

“I’m alright for now. Thank you, Etrian.” (Your name) politer responded, folding her hands in her lap nervously.

Etrian smiled before continued to excitedly chatter on about the wedding. His tentacles dancing around excitedly.

A regal woman with long silver hair and bright blue eyes stood outside of the Graham palace. Her cold gaze focusing on the carriage that had arrived.

Former Duchess Guinevere had gotten the news that her son had found a bride while he was in the southern empire. She just didn’t think her son would latch onto the other duke’s former wife so quickly.

Her eyes glared at the pretty young woman who exited the carriage, her eyes widening when she saw her son’s tentacles all over the girl. The girl subtly trying to push them off. Her son had found his soulmate… Etrian had found his soulmate!

A bright smile was on the former duchess’s lips, the servants immediately blushing and whispering to each other. Guinevere never smiled and here she was smiling at the fiancée her son had brought.

“Welcome home, son. I see you brought me home a daughter as well.” Guinevere smiled, her blue eyes gazing intensely at the trembling woman who wouldn’t look her in the eye. Was it a possibility she could see Guinevere’s true form as well? How interesting…

(Your name) tried her best not to cry at how much larger the octopus like creature that Etrian called his mother was. She was terrified at how the other woman’s tentacles were poking her face as well.

“It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, duchess.”

A hearty laugh let the woman’s throat, the regal woman gesturing for her servants to make her new family member feel welcome.

“Please. Call me mother.”

(Your name) tried her best not to cry at the feast Etrian’s family held for them. Etrian’s mother’s tentacles were all over the former Duke. Who didn’t seem to mind as much as (your name) did.

“Welcome, my dear. I see you’re still getting used to Etrian’s… quirks.” The former Duke, Rolfe, smiled at the young couple. His eyes narrowing at his son intensely staring at (your name). “Etrian, I’d like for you to start a toast for your lovely fiancée here.”

Etrian quickly sprang to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding (your name)’s. While to other held up a glass of Chardonnay.

“I’d like to raise a toast to my lovely fiancée, (your name). I cannot wait to be wed to such a lovely girl who can stand to be around the real me.” No she could not. (Your name) was doing her best not to pass out at the table right then and there at all the eyes (and tentacles) that were on her.

“(Your name), my dear. I’m so happy my son seems so fond of you. He was such a lonely boy growing up…” Guinevere sighed, her tentacles cradling her body as she continued to talk about Etrian. “He loves reading all the time. I swear he loved books more than his own mother-“

“Mother. Please. You’re embarrassing me.” (Your name) could only smile politely as Etrian’s tentacles pulled her closer to him. The male pressing a kiss to her head.

Guinevere only smiled all knowingly at her son and husband. Rolfe sighing before gazing at the young couple. “You both have our blessing. We can have the wedding as soon as you’d like-“

“Tomorrow.” Etrian stated boldly, causing his father to laugh.

“Impatient just like your mother was.” (Your name) could only watch as Rolfe tenderly caressed his wife’s affectionate tentacles. “I’ll send some dress makers down to your room tonight then.”

“Dear, remember when we were young?” The older couple soon got into a private and affectionate banter. The two giggling and whispering to each other like a young couple in love.

“See? You’ll be happy here.” Etrian stated, the young Duke pulling out (your name)’s chair. “How about we go on a walk while those two continue to flirt?”

(Your name) nodded, hesitantly taking Etrian’s hand as the much taller male lead her out of the dining room.

Her octopus fiancé motioning to the portraits on the wall of the most beautiful family she’s ever seen. Rolfe being the only one she recognized in the portraits.

“Who are they?”

“You don’t recognize your own fiancé?” Etrian chuckled as he pointed to the tall handsome man with long silver hair in the portrait. “I’m right there or can you only see these?”

(Your name) tried not to squeal when the tentacles starting tickling her, trying her best not to smile at how playful Etrian was being.

“I… I can only see those.”

Etrian suddenly pulled her to himself, pressing a long kiss to her left collarbone.

“My mother said my father finally saw what she truly looked like on their wedding night. So maybe you’ll just have to wait till then to see me.”

(Your name) smiled, casting one last look at the handsome man in the portrait. There was no way that person and this tentacle abomination were the same person.

But then again, Rolfe seemed super into Guinevere with or without her tentacles…

(Your name) stood at the alter across from a more than eager Etrian. The tentacles on his head flailing around excitedly while also trying not to touch her until after the ceremony was over.

“You may kiss the bride-“ the marriage officiant didn’t even get to finish his words before Etrian pulled (your name into a passionate kiss, (your name) shutting her eyes so she didn’t have to see how the tentacles were running themselves down every inch of her body.

The crowd going wild at how happy Etrian seemed, much to the dismay of Duke Lancaster who sat the farthest away from the ceremony. The Duke fiddling with a dried sprig of baby’s breath. He was here for closure but he didn’t want to accept the fact that his wife had practically been forced to marry some sort of tentacle monster.

Etrian pulled away before scooping (your name) up in his arms as the crowd cheered for their union. The silver haired Duke giving Cedric a victorious smirk.

Etrian had won. (Your name) was his wife now. He even had something planned for Cedric as well. Something that would make sure that Duke get over (your name) for good.

Cedric groaned, red eyes widening as he realized he was bound and gagged in a chair. The Duke of Lancaster nervously glancing around until he saw Etrian standing in front of him. The silver haired Duke giving Cedric a smirk.

“I’m going to let you watch our wedding night.” Etrian smirked, causing Cedric to scream at him through the gag, only for no sound to come out. “And maybe if you’re good, I’ll even let you in. I feel kind of bad for stealing your wife but I’m not opposed to sharing her.”

Cedric’s red eyes widened when Etrian pulled out a syringe. The dark haired Duke thrashing in his restraints, causing Etrian to shush him.

“It’s just a very strong aphrodisiac. I want you to feel everything and I also gave some to (your name) as well. I want both of you to be as aroused as possible. Plus you’ll be able to see what she can see while you’re on these drugs.”

No… he didn’t mean. Cedric gasped when Etrian stabbed the needle into his bare leg, pupils going wide at the true form of Etrian being revealed to him.

“God. I’m going to love this.”

Cedric could only slightly struggle, the friction from the rope turning him on. The male watching helplessly as (your name) stumbled into the room. The poor girl a panting mess as Etrian slowly began to toy with the lacy white undergarment that hid her body from Cedric’s eyes.

“Look, (your name). I brought your ex-husband here to watch as I defile you.” A sharp gasp left (your name)’s throat when two of Etrian’s tentacles squeezes her chest, the poor girl panting as Etrian ran his hands down her hips and dipped by her privates. “We’re gonna give him a show, okay? And if you’re both good, I’ll let him fuck you too.”

Cedric gasped when the tentacles suddenly ripped apart the lingerie on (your name)’s body his greedy eyes taking in the soft curves of her bare body. His head spinning with lust at the thought of being able to touch his wife.

Etrian suddenly wrapped two tentacles around her wrists, holding them in place as he positioned himself behind her. (Your name) moaning loudly at how rough Etrian was being.

“What do you say, (your name)?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please… take me, Etrian.” Etrian’s pink tongue darted out to lick her tears away, causing (your name) to blush. Right now she was able to see Etrian’s human face while under the influence of the aphrodisiac, much to Etrian’s joy.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl, (your name).” Etrian sheathed himself in one thrust in (your name) a strangled cry escaping her throat as he started to pound into her like a madman. “Shit. Look at how well you take it.”

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” (Your name) began to cry as she felt her body being pounded into and Cedric’s eyes on her. “It feels so good!”

“Does it? How about this?” (Your name) began to cry as she felt Etrian’s tentacles rub against her clit, practically seeing stars at the intensity they were going.

“Etrian! I’m going to-“ Etrian tightly grasped (your name) body. The white haired man releasing deep inside of her as (your name) rode out her orgasm. The Duke kissing her face as he turned to look at Cedric who had a mess between his legs as well.

“You’re a sick freak, Cedric. Getting off watching another man fuck your wife.”

Etrian cut Cedric’s binds with one of his tentacles before motioning over to the moaning mess that was (your name). “Have at it.”

Cedric slowly rose up before greedily pressing kisses onto (your name)’s bare skin. The dark haired Duke slipping himself into her with ease. His pale hand grasping her hips tightly as he drilled into her doggy style.

“Fuck. I love you, (your name).” Cedric cried as he started to go into a brutal pace. “We could make this work right? A throuple?”

(Your name) cried and moaned as Cedric continued to pound into her poor abused body. Etrian placing his thumb in her mouth as he stroked his cock in another hand.

“Shhh. How about you put me in your mouth while he has his fun. It’ll be nice to have something in your pretty mouth.”

(Your name) could only nod her head as Cedric continued to pound into her. His balls slapping roughly into her ass as she started choking on Etrian’s cock.

“Look at that. Such a good girl taking two cocks. You’re gonna be both of our wife. It’ll be fun won’t it?” Etrian cooed as Cedric started to cry.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck. I’m gonna get you pregnant, (your name).” Cedric threw back his head as he came deep inside (your name) the other Duke panting as he collapsed beside (your name), who continued to suck off Etrian.

“Look at us, (your name). All three of us are practically insatiable.” Etrian cooed as he watched Cedric start eating (your name) out.

“I told you I’d make you happy here.” Etrian cooed, (your name) pulling herself away from his cock to whisper.

“Yes I love it here, Etrian. I love you and Cedric so much. Ah!”

“Such a good girl.” Etrian cooed, his tentacles wrapping around (your name) as he continued to play with her body. “You’re gonna be pregnant with twins by the time we’re finished with you.”

“Thank you… thank you…” (your name) cried as she felt her body be flipped over by Cedric who decided he was going to go for another round.

“Isn’t she such a good girl, Cedric.” Cedric nodded his head as he started pressing hot kisses on (your name)’s body.

“You should be happy to know that you two never actually divorced and now the both of us are married to her. My empire just allows polyamory so it’s easier for us to have fun here.”

“Isn’t that fun, Cedric? We’ll all be one big happy family.” Etrian soon pushed (your name) onto Cedric’s lap, who was still pounding into her like a madman.

Etrian positioned himself behind (your name), a wicked smile on his beautiful face.

“Now let’s see how well you can handle two cocks in one hole.”

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mabroctea · 1 year

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#Is Ceylon tea high in caffeine?#Ceylon tea is a type of black tea that originates from Sri Lanka. Pure Ceylon teas are different from other types of black tea because they #green tea and oolong tea.#Ceylon black teas have been used in herbal medicine since ancient times due to their health benefits and antioxidant properties. You can ge #Ceylon tea is made from the plant Camellia sinensis.#Ceylon tea is made from the plant Camellia sinensis #a species of evergreen shrub that includes both green and black teas. The difference between Ceylon tea and black or green tea is in the wa #Green tea undergoes minimal processing while it’s still fresh—it’s steamed #dried #and sorted by hand. Black teas go through a much more extensive process: they’re rolled #oxidized (or fermented)#and for some varieties roasted before being blended together with flavors like fruits or spices to create traditional English-style tea ble #If a tea is listed as “pure Ceylon” or “single origin Ceylon #” then it contains only tea leaves sourced from Sri Lanka #with no other additions.#with no other additions. This means that if you’re looking to drink 100 percent pure Ceylon tea #look for the words “single origin” or “pure.”#If you’re not sure exactly what kind of tea you have and where it was grown #ask your grocer or the store clerk. If they can’t answer this question #they probably don’t know much about the product at all!#The main types of teas that come from the Camellia sinensis plant are black tea #green tea and oolong tea. All three are made by cutting off the leaves and buds of Camellia sinensis #but they’re processed differently to produce different flavors:#Black: Fermented #Green: Not fermented #Oolong: Partially fermented #Ceylon tea is lower in caffeine than other black teas due to the way it’s processed.#Ceylon tea is lower in caffeine than other black teas due to the way it’s processed. Ceylon tea has a lower level of oxidation during proce #which means there are fewer tannins in Ceylon tea than in other black teas. Tannins are chemicals that give black teas their distinctive fl #but they also have a high concentration of caffeine. In addition

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raindropssys · 2 months

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let's help Amal For Women provide aid to families in Sudan! If you cannot donate, spread this around! as of 2/22/2024, their GFM has only raised $55 out of the $10,000 goal -- it only received six donations.

GFM: https://gofund.me/2484e5bf

other donation options: https://linktr.ee/amalforwomen

Original post by @Kandakat_alhaqq on Twitter:

"My organization, Amal For Women (http://Amalforwomen.org), annually conducts a Ramadan food basket initiative for Sudan. Our nonprofit previously funded businesses for single mothers pre-war, alongside a successful orphan sponsorship campaign. Traditionally, we fundraised before Ramadan and our Sudanese representatives procured and distributed the baskets to families in need. However, due to the ongoing war, this year we're shifting to providing financial assistance instead of physical baskets, prioritizing safety and practicality in aid distribution. Typically, each basket costs around $70 and includes essential items like rice, sugar, tea, onions, wheat, cooking oil, pasta, dates, milk, and lentils. Rest assured, funds will be transparently and accountably distributed by trusted representatives. Your support directly aids those affected by conflict, so please share this initiative with your family and friends.

💚 GoFundMe: https://gofund.me/2484e5bf. 💚 Multiple donation options: https://linktr.ee/amalforwomen

#keepeyesonsudan"

#amal for women #sudan crisis #sudan #eyes on sudan #keep eyes on sudan #free sudan #sudan war #sudan aid #sudanese genocide #ramadan

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capslocked · 13 days

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PROXIMITY

male reader x chou tzuyu

25k words

You’re not a bad person. And you know how that sounds apropos of nothing - defensive, unscrupulous - but it’s true. You’re like anybody else: full of mistakes, but good, mostly.

You are also aware of the way she looks at you. None of that has changed.

The slight quirk at the corner of her lips. A flicker, a smirk. A game, all doe-eyed and deep dimpled - she's playing the seduction one. It isn’t subtle, and you're losing by proxy. So you're backtracking, drawing your conclusions; you're reading into the line of her jaw, the fall of her hair. Measuring the weight behind each blink.

"You were wrong by the way," Tzuyu starts, indifferent. Through some act of divine retribution, she laughs. "Because to tell you the truth, I used to have, like, the biggest crush on you."

She’s young, and - well, she’s a lot of things. A terrible idea. Incredibly off-limits. She is anathema, red tape, an original sin. You shake your head at her, smile fading - which for anyone keeping score, is an admonishment, however faint.

Because Chou Tzuyu, you recognize, is categorically, unequivocally: never supposed to happen.

If you want a read on your current dilemma, then this is how it pans out:

You’re walking headfirst into one of the multiple terrible, terrible scenarios you've probably had an anxiety dream about. It’s an ambush, really.

There’s the text from Mina, explaining all the ins and outs of her winter hideaway, the logistical whereabouts, and the pinched photo from the outside, the endless winding driveway, the clearing in the woods. The remote location, the unfussed snow, the towering trees. There are no neighbors to speak of, just seclusion and isolation and that makes you, among the seven billion or whatever, the only one who will know precisely how fucked you are.

The door to the cabin swings open on its hinges. You kick the snow off your boots, and the air smells indistinctly of peppermint tea.

It’s a cozy place, you think. A slightly rustic aesthetic. There’s a pair of skis decommissioned over the mantle. Mina, as usual, has good taste. You peek around: the foyer, the open living space, the wood finishes, the sunken fireplace. You almost make out a bathroom, through a half-opened doorway - and the kitchen, maybe, is nestled around the far corner.

You settle in, find your bearings, and start taking these leisurely steps down the hall.

That’s when you see her. Wearing a sweater that's a size too big, draped over her frame - sleeves tucked, exposing the barest hint of skin on her wrists, her delicate fingertips. You blink once, twice. That’s a dangerous flare. The rest of her, this canvas of pale skin and soft, endless legs, the hollowed stretch of inner thigh-

Actually, you know what, you are going to delete that out of your mind; as far as you're concerned, Tzuyu absolutely does not have her long, satin-like mahogany hair spilling over her shoulder, her bare legs poking out from under that bulky cotton blend, and she definitely, very absolutely has not given you a complete lack of boundaries, so it's more than plausible for her to slide onto a stool near the countertop with her painted-toes peeking out from beneath the folded press of her thigh (the pedicure, really, now?) and look over at you like you aren’t perfectly familiar with that goddamn face. Those eyes, that jaw.

And her collarbone is out too. Ouch.

Tzuyu rests her chin in one of her perfectly manicured hands, and tilts her head: she’s very blatantly checking you out.

The problem is, you’ve recognized her immediately.

Which - god, the bottom-lines, the blurred borders. It’s been years. She's twenty-three, twenty-four now, and as it turns out, she's taller than you remember. She's thinner, taller, actually a bit filled out too-

Right, okay, no. Just. Delete that image from the internal memory.

"Oh," you breathe, because there's not a single thing you're sure you’re supposed to do. It takes a split second too long to put the brakes on everything in your brain and say, "Tzuyu." It takes even more control not to tack an unthinkingly fond 'miss' to the front of her name - you're a god-honest lost hope - but at the last minute, you settle for, "hi."

It’s unnatural. She's actually somehow prettier than you remember, and the tousled brown curls flowing down her shoulder make it worse. She smiles, gently; this soft-spoken, "hey."

She’s at the kitchen island, holding a bowl of cereal and looking at you like she’s taking inventory. The strap of her bra is black, loose around the curve of her left shoulder; she's barefoot. Any other context, and it's your favorite kind of combination, basically: casual and messy and haphazard. Perfect. She's so tall, christ.

"We've met a few times," and she's not even phrasing it as a question - because she knows for a fact that you know her - and now, well, you can see how that's a problem.

"Yeah." You drop your bags. "Nobody said anything about anyone being here, so, I'm just a little-"

“Relieved?” Tzuyu tries, and if it sounds conceited, you’ve imagined it.

“Surprised,” you amend, quickly. There is a massive amount of distance currently between the both of you - several feet and an island counter to top it off. That's good, you think.

Tzuyu runs her hands over the top of her hair, a half-effort at putting it up into some sort of a ponytail, or maybe a bun. You see now that her nails are bare. "I'd heard from Mina," she starts, "that Sana was coming here-"

And you watch, absentmindedly, as Tzuyu slides down off her chair. You watch her too carefully almost, for a beat. You want to follow the length of her legs with the same ease and shamelessness - like it's instinct or just expected; it's ridiculous and wrong to think, but-

"-with, uh, someone. She left it purposefully vague." Tzuyu finishes, then pauses. Her gaze slides across you. If the awkward stretch of silence is weird, she doesn't comment on it. “Then I heard the flight got delayed because of all the snow."

"Just Sana’s," you correct, and that's not information you should be simply giving away. She just stands there, blinking up at you.

"Huh," she says, eyebrow lifted - slower than is explicitly necessary, “so you’re like. All alone until she gets here.” She simply eats a spoonful of cereal, chews for a moment, and adds, “bummer.”

It’s true, in some sense. You sigh, rake a hand back through your hair, and your jacket falls further down on one of your shoulders; she drops her gaze down, almost imperceptibly, following the motion.

There is definitely a point where you could take notice of a lot of things, and they include, but are certainly not limited to: the fucking languor with which she is licking the yogurt off the back of her spoon, her stupidly long eyelashes fanning on the tops of her cheeks when she glances down, the frankly risque neckline of her sweater. Those kinds of things. Those kinds of details. Really, you wouldn’t dare.

"It sounds like she’ll be getting in tomorrow evening," you decide to inform her, though she didn't ask, and now she nods, focusing still on the yogurt and granola at the bottom of her bowl.

You walk into the kitchen. Rap your knuckles on the countertop. Tzuyu’s right there, and your mind is filling up with images you could really do without. That's the unfortunate, traitorous nature of all this: in any universe, Chou Tzuyu fawns over you. And she will, on accident or purpose, test you. And as for your hesitation - that's an instinct that gets activated every time you so much as meet Tzuyu in person, this invasive little impulse.

"Well," Tzuyu says, way too casually. “It’s just us then.”

"Yeah." you agree, stilted. “Just us.”

"There's wine," she decides, tilts her head. Then, matter of factly, "and coffee, hot cocoa. Mina’s more or less stocked on everything."

Her voice hits the room all nice, sweet, syrupy - god, fuck, maybe there's a window or a door here somewhere that you're supposed to open to clear the air, but when you look, there’s frost on the glass; it’s the subalpine frigidity. Tzuyu flashes you this other sort of glance - her teeth scrape the rounded spoon's tip before her lips fully fix around it. The drowsy, delirious feeling is almost involuntary at this point.

"I should unpack my things, is what I should do, probably," and now you are saying things for the sake of saying them, as an escape. "Hey, seriously. Sorry for the inconvenience."

“Don’t be,” she tells you. "The weather isn't anybody's fault."

(Here, a premonition. You look at Tzuyu, who raises an eyebrow back.)

The next logical move is: leave. Tzuyu folds her long limbs back up onto the stool, and you're - trying not to look. You're also trying not to do it consciously, actively - you're not, and not. You fail, like you did a few years ago, too - the eyes have a bad habit of wandering. She's made of porcelain, all thin wrists, thin neck, soft curves and delicate lines. She's made out of glass - she’s at her most dangerous when you’ve gone and broken her.

It’s possible, you think, she could break you too.

Look, contextually - it’s Murphy’s law, or maybe your own very specific curse. A lot of stuff happens, so here’s a rough draft, your best effort at an approximation, a smudged-pencil sketch:

Tzuyu has been on vacation in the Alps from the start of the week, or maybe the week prior - she's alone in this stupidly big cabin you're supposed to be meeting Sana in for two weeks and change of pure unadulterated, hedonistic fun. Skiing, lounging, stargazing, drinking, screwing, consummating a situationship. You know the drill.

However there ends up being an actual, literal avalanche - with snow and rocks and ice and whatever the fuck - the power goes out, and you can only assume the whole mountain's gone dark. It's like a classic, a cautionary tale: hey, dude, you're on vacation with this drop-dead gorgeous girl who will let you do whatever you want to her - in the name of love and lust and a loosely legal liability. She says she'll be yours forever, except you also heard her say that the universe is entitled to laugh at you, a bit - so you do something you'll regret (which, okay, you've done countless things you'll regret) and now you're getting punished for it, and so is the stunning temptress currently shivering in the bed next to you. Seriously, whatever you do, do not fuck her, don't let her get too attached, because oh, man - Tzuyu really likes to make herself comfortable, huh? To nestle herself into your arms, let her hand stroke circles in the dark fabric of your t-shirt, warm her cold nose into your chest, and cuddle the night away. She's so easy to give in to, isn't she? This walking, talking paradox of everything she's not supposed to be and everything she'll willingly do anyway - there's her expression, placid and rapturous in equal measures, the sleepy mumbles against your skin that sound like prayers, her damp breaths.

You should know better. You should know that this is the universe, laughing its ass off at you.

And just for the record, there is sound reason for everyone to feel, in some sense, extremely concerned by the narrative that your life has slowly, unceremoniously devolved itself into.

The first time you meet Chou Tzuyu is years ago. She’s dramatically, devastatingly, problematically, young.

It was all happening before you could really clock it, and it was morally reprehensible, and it was, in fact, probably all your own doing.

And it’s even more obvious in retrospect: how she would react to the way you reach back and ruffle your hair when you laugh, the casual appeal of your smile, the depths of your tone, how you cut it as close as you can get it. A girl will trip all over herself to let you look after her; that’s the basic blueprint, that's the default. See, you're in your twenties, an adult - not having figured out much, but having certainly figured out this - and it's very much not lost on you that the girl should not be flirting with you - but she does, and the very worst of it is: you let her.

“Are you out of your mind?” Jihyo had said at the time, and, in fairness, yeah. That more or less sums it up.

So you end up making a point of never getting to know her, to always keep the conversation nonexistent. Or in the worst case scenario, brief - on surface level topics. The weather. Your job. Food. If you like her sunglasses. (They look protective, you’d told her, very practical. Very safe.) It's the essentials, a light, professional rapport - never once crossing the border from casual conversation to candid disclosure.

She's infatuated, of course. You're not mincing words here. It's actually rather unfortunate, how gone she is for you. You could’ve probably stood to dial it back; you, and your charm. Your smiles.

Because Chou Tzuyu was however many years young, very much off-limits - and like a lot of people it seems, totally hooked on your whole deal.

(Theoretically, that's how it all starts. Which is why, pragmatically, you will never, ever lay a finger on her.)

So, the plan to get through this was simple and to the point and as follows:

* Avoid unnecessary physical contact

* Maintain social distance, in fact - something covid-esque sounds great, about six feet

* Do not offer opinions/advice unless specifically asked

* Minimize speaking, just to be safe

* Do not exchange gifts, especially personal ones

* Be wary of the temptation to take a voluntarily-tipsy Tzuyu to bed, because you'll want to - and god knows Tzuyu will make it extremely clear that you could; this is exactly how shit turns south-

* Adjust and reframe

* Reinforce

* Remind yourself

* To just fucking think about literally anything else

It was working fine, so far - really fine, especially if you consider how early into the stay you're sitting there, telling yourself off in the bathroom mirror, get it together, you dumbass. What is wrong with you, don’t you know better by now - before an unapologetic knock on the door snaps you out of it, and the click of the door opening a moment later forces a heavy inhale from your chest: you just need a fucking second, thanks - not a half-decent excuse or a rearrangement, not a careful restructure, just a split second in your own head; that's not even the sort of thing you're prone to needing, because it's you, but with Chou fucking Tzuyu-

A soft breathy laugh, "are you okay in here?"

Tzuyu pokes her head into the room, her hair a wavy curtain that tumbles down past the middle of her back. You have this vague, fleeting impulse to run your fingers through it.

"Well," and there goes all the shit you'd managed not to think about, or contemplate, or dwell upon for that one glorious, naive, misinformed second. "Sort of," you say, offering her a quick glance.

"Really?" Tzuyu says, not catching onto the whole existential crisis thing. "Is there anything else you need? I mean," and then your eyes fall upon her; she's put a sweater on, pants, which all things considered, is a huge victory, a total rout - her baggy sweater drapes on her, practically brushing her thigh where the material stops, the hem. "I guess not, just. Um," her teeth catch her bottom lip for a quick moment, and this time she glances back towards the hall, the granite-finish tiles. "Wanna make s'mores?"

"What," you ask, because honestly, what the actual fuck-

"I went into town to get fresh groceries earlier this week. Everything just kinda landed in my cart," she says, the beginning of an explanation - the backstory, if you will. "And there's a fireplace. Momo always says the calories don't count if it's social eating, so." She makes a small shrug.

"Oh,” you say, like you understand. Your throat feels tight. “She’s totally right.”

She offers you a small nod. Tucks her hair behind her ear. You wonder if she knows how suggestive even the smallest of gestures she makes are; and more so, if she does it knowingly, or simply without thought - if it's a facet of her own effortlessness.

"Um," you say, for no particular reason other than that Tzuyu is fucking distracting. "Okay."

The edges of her mouth tick upwards at that. "We could put something on the tv,” she suggests. “For the vibe."

"Oh yeah, for the ambience."

"For the ambience," she nods.

(And fuck her, seriously. You might be a goner already.)

"A winter weather advisory," Tzuyu reads, squinting slightly at the tv. A minute later: "Just stay home," followed by another pause, and a frown: "hail and ice too. Yeah, no kidding."

She's reading the weather report. You're pretending you have any idea how to work the fireplace while she sets her eyes on the news, hands running over the blankets she has huddled around herself - legs folded, tucked into the edge of her chest. She'd gotten as far as logging into her Netflix account before the suggestion of cuddling was so obviously implied, her hands patting the cushioned space beside her that you were required by moral law to flip through the cable options until you found the least sexy, least rom-com-y option you could find: a newscaster reporting on the ongoing inclement weather, a forecaster saying 'near zero chance of improving, so travel is heavily discouraged, we strongly advise against-'

"Wonder if Sana's even going to make it," Tzuyu breaks the relative silence, and you are acutely aware of how casual she has been referring to Sana, the complete and utter lack of jealousy or any emotion related - or you guess, inspired. She's not even the slightest bit irked. “If the airport opens, maybe," she adds, and, after a beat, "let's hope."

It gets colder. You can barely see three feet past the front door. The forecast only gets worse, the storm intensifies and swells, it snows and snows - and this isn't a cottage somewhere on the lake, you're a couple miles down a single-track, woodsy road, far, far away from society.

If only these walls could talk, honestly. You're like, caught in a moment. With Tzuyu and marshmallows and these tiny, sticky wooden skewers. This is a story you will tell nobody, ever.

"I don’t mean to say I told you so," she says, but it comes out with a mouthful of chocolate and graham cracker, and marshmallow, which sort of takes the bite out of it. "But the movie is a little more entertaining."

You pretend like you weren't staring at her mouth a beat prior. "Right, a cinematic masterpiece."

Tzuyu tugs a marshmallow off the stick, and looks over at you again. Smiles around the impromptu pastry. She's just such a bright, wholesome thing - soft-hearted, selfless, so innocuous and so pleasant. It's absolutely sick. You have a fucking pavlovian response to Tzuyu simply existing.

And you’re pretending like the white, tacky remains on her mouth haven't permanently solidified that look into memory: the melted chocolate, the whipped sugar, the dimple. You could really do without this specific feeling - for however much longer it'll last, should the storm linger.

"You don’t ever have stuff like this, just for a quiet, carefree time?" Tzuyu licks it off her skin, and the question kind of drags your attention elsewhere.

You breathe in, slow.

Maybe she can feel it too, you think. Because Tzuyu drags the pad of her thumb against her bottom lip, and a question she doesn't ask flickers to life in her gaze: if you'll break or not, if there is an absolute limit.

But it’s impossible to read her. Tzuyu takes up this real easy-going disposition, all quiet and stoic, sort of, and maybe that's the dangerous part of her - the stillness. Other moments, she has this uncanny knack for conversation. She's charming in that way, you have always thought, a bright face. She has a keen understanding of things too - maybe sometimes too much; maybe a little bit beyond her years, really, a little too knowledgeable.

"When the gang does," you answer, diplomatically. “Sure, I suppose.”

There's another smile at that, which is how you know that the back and forth, this coolly cool, somewhat-stiff exchange is sort of becoming a game. A bet on who cracks, who turns. She won't tell you it's you, and you'll never in your right mind acknowledge her. It's some version of honesty. A bit like Russian roulette.

"I used to think we were friends, you know," she muses, like it's some great mystery - all very deliberately cryptic. Like it's funny.

"Hey, you were like, a teenager," you're grasping at straws. You’re spinning the bullet round the conversational chamber. “And I have this thing-”

"You have a thing?" Her eyebrow is raised again - sweetly challenging.

"-like, a principle, a standard - if there's nothing there, and let's face it: there's really not something here-"

"Aw," Tzuyu fakes pouting, which is simultaneously very mean and also like, painfully hot, and she makes this pitiful coo, "you really have nothing to say at all, do you."

Which. Fuck, she’s right. The 'thing' here is the no touching, the no messing, the no making anything resembling a move. She's sitting over there with her mouth covered in sugar, batting her goddamn eyelashes. Which you ignore, thank god for impulse control, or the instinct of it, and Tzuyu pushes a graham cracker past her lips to placate her own expression.

And so it goes. She keeps looking at you and looking and looking and you stare, transfixed, back at her. The edges of her jaw, the rise of her nose, the jutting curve of her collarbone; you say something dumb or clever and you're making her laugh, and every time she does, her teeth catch on her bottom lip and you could really do with a distraction right now, but it's impossible not to flirt.

It's just the way the universe has constructed you - this starvation, a twisted desire. There’s cruelty in the design.

(Things take a turn for the worse, of course. You don’t know how, but she gets to you agree that you two should've gotten closer in all that time-

"Well, I’m sure you were just so busy," you'd shrugged, indifferent, and she'd pressed the sleeve of her sweater to her mouth, just to hide how bright the smile was.

-which, honestly, fuck you - given all the context. Because now she's right here in the cabin; she's an arm's length away, and all this time, you've meant to stay the fuck out of reach.)

Tzuyu does the worst thing. She returns from the kitchen, hands full, with two squat tumblers and a bottle of dark brandy. She sets one down next to you and asks if you want some.

You look. You mean, what are you even supposed to do? It's a catch twenty-two, it's a joke - what can a girl be thinking, standing there. Bending the right way, hair framing a face like hers.

Yeah, sure - it’s the voice of someone who's slipping, who’s gonna say the same thing three more times. "Hm, why not."

The ice clinks against the glass. Then, the pour. Toast to good health, a clean conscience, safe passage; you’ll take whatever you can get.

You watch Tzuyu knock back an impressive amount and make an impressive face. There’s maturity there, you cope. Because you want to touch her jaw, thumb over her cheekbone, breathe baby, it's too strong, slow down on her lips, watch her mouth open slightly-

The fire pops.

She leans toward you. “Are you going to keep stealing stories from me, or are you going to supply anything good to the discussion?"

"About me, personally?" you say, purposefully pedantic.

Tzuyu’s smirk is half-present, half-playful. She sets down her tumbler on a coaster - Mina would be appreciative - and hums at you. “What do you think I mean?”

"I was really hoping the inflection would help clarify."

She levels a gaze with you. You fight back for a hot second - this slow-burning heat under the skin, your resolve threatening to buckle, shatter, spill itself everywhere - and in the end, she is the one that looks away, softly laughing, a pfft under her breath. You’re left the opportunity to just - look. See where the glow from the wood-burning fire has cast this gorgeous gold over her face, all her defined curves, her delicate features.

"I don't care, it could be anything," she poses, settling back into the pillows. Smiling. "Please. Entertain me."

Her cheeks are rosy. You realize, quite suddenly, you are not totally sober either. This is exactly how Sana talked you into something however many moons ago, then however many moons later, surgically unattached all the strings. Sana’s good at talking. At convincing. And you don't do shots like her, or apparently like Tzuyu does - but hell, it's that maddening, pretty little dimple of hers - the one that's always there when she does her mischievous smirk - a deeply devastating look, a devil-may-care demeanor, and you're dead-drunk on it, honestly.

"Want me to talk about Sana?" you offer, "seems like an obvious choice."

"I think you’re projecting," Tzuyu teases. “You just miss her, I'm sure.”

"Mhm. Sure."

Tzuyu makes a noise halfway between a chuckle and a snort, and draws the blankets more tightly around her. "What," she says, nonplussed, "who doesn't want to hear some gossip about their friends?"

You're fucking up, right? Fucking up the same way you did years ago when you caught the wrong kind of feeling for an entirely, altogether inappropriate woman. But you'll blame the drinks. And the mood. And the ambience, the fucking fire that's almost suffocating, the closeness of her body next to you-

"Hey," you say, and it's such a mistake. You're pointing to a spot on your chin. You're making it worse. "You got a little, uh-"

You watch as she lifts her hand, glides it through the air - brushes her own cheek with her fingertips, smoothing out an imagined blemish.

"Did I get it?"

"Uh, well, sorta-" and she knows you’re lying.

Tzuyu tries again. Comes up short, and when her hair falls in front of her face, she’s looking at you like maybe you’ll help take care of that too. She’s a total fucking coquette - though maybe she hasn’t even done it on purpose, maybe she's just that unaware, innocent. Not the second one, you figure. You're leaning, tilting closer and closer to her - in any other scenario, there'd be the shortest possible time between her touching herself and you, cupping her jaw with one of your hands.

But your mouth feels like it's moving of its own accord. "No, wait, let me help you," you continue, before you know it.

Isn’t it disastrous; all ice and hazard, this is the advisory in effect; a napoleon-goes-to-russia caliber calamity, a colossal write off, a write in. You could have, should have stopped, except you didn't and now you're reaching, gently, until your palm cups the side of her face - until you press, until you hold her steady. Her head tilts. She lets you, blinking up. Her eyes are this hazy, intoxicated coffee-brown, honeyed and burnt and fucking beautiful.

You swipe your thumb along her bottom lip. The gesture is slow, languid, intentional; you think, through some cosmic error, that might just be the end of it.

"There," you say, smiling, naive.

"Yeah," Tzuyu breathes out, and she winds her fist into the fabric of your shirt. "Thanks."

You lean, or she does; you go down, or she pulls you; there's no difference, really.

She is kissing you, this soft little press. A tug in every direction. You hadn’t kissed her, at the very start, but when her fingers thread through your hair, gripping hard, bringing you closer until you groan, parting your lips slightly, and - and her tongue flits past yours - your brain does this wild mental leap that you ought to be questioning later.

But everything starts to sink.

One of your hands lands on her waist, thumb slipping under the hem of her sweater and pressing against bare skin, and her knee nudges between both of your legs - until Tzuyu hums this low, pretty sound in her throat. There is something fervent here, all-consuming, devouring; her mouth moves like it's frantic for air, for oxygen and fuel, and her whole body melts under yours like she's completely falling apart.

Fuck, you think. There is a deep, smouldering heat in the pit of your stomach.

Because she’s perfect. You always knew that, didn’t you. She is firelight and perfume and muted gold; everything else falls into shadow, fades into the background. Her lips are velvet-soft, and they open again and again with these heavy exhales of hot air - so much so that you have to shift the hand you'd set on her waist lower, a little, her hip bone under your palm, a touch ghosting towards the dip and the swell.

Somehow you have this knowledge: at the end of everything, it'll be her name falling helplessly off your tongue.

"You were wrong by the way,” she stops to say.

"About-" You press another kiss into her jaw, and her mouth parts around the same slow sigh. "Wait." You lean back enough to look at her again.

“Whatever you said earlier." Tzuyu’s eyes go half-lidded as she starts petting your hair back into place, thumb stroking your jawline. "I'd have made time."

Oh, christ-

"Because to tell you the truth," her tongue wets her lip, shiny, wet, "I've never really forgotten. Like I just thought, that whole thing was so… fleeting, you know, like the last time, when you let me text you - god, I was crushing so hard."

You breathe, shaking your head.

"Don’t," is what comes out of your mouth after, quick, sharpened.

“Don’t what?” Tzuyu taunts, pushing another inch further. That small grin on her face, her long, nimble fingers combing through your hair.

You are trying to think, and there was an apology, right? You'd had this one in you. The one that began as a guilty soliloquy, a rueful acknowledgement; something that should have been directed toward Tzuyu, told her, at one point, or another: look. Sorry it's like this.

But there is a hand tracing the collar of your shirt - a sensation that follows all the way to the base of your throat; you lean further into her touch, almost involuntarily - a simple motion, and yet. "You shouldn't. You shouldn't say things like that to me," and you mean: these things you already know. "It's not good."

"Doesn't feel that bad," she tells you, a breezy sort of whisper, warm. "I think I'm getting the opposite impression."

"Maybe for the wrong reasons," you remind her. And to remind yourself, actually. "Probably for the wrong reasons - trust me, it is.”

"Trust you," and it’s the slightest bit ridiculing, a tease - Tzuyu drops her smile, pulls you in by the hair, whispers low. "Sure," the syllable soft, pressed against your throat, "I trust you not to hurt me," and the 'not' gets hung on for an impossibly long moment, stretched out thin.

She's sinister; she has to be, or some amalgamation of the most potent version of every word she’s ever said. A dream girl, the definition and essence of a temptress, this shameless attraction - an insistent siren begging for your attention; the incepting mind-game; the entity that stalks the halls in the deepest trenches of the night, whispering your worst fears right into your ear. You fall further into Tzuyu, the prettiest of nightmares.

(Oh, it's the dimple that does you in, really: if there's any possible way that Chou Tzuyu has unintentionally ruined your life, she's done it with that innocent little smile.)

"You can kiss me again," Tzuyu says, permissive.

And you do. You kiss her, and kiss her like you’ve no choice - like you've decided, at least in this very moment, if Tzuyu can own a piece of your soul, you can take something too.

(The thing about a cautionary tale: sometimes it is really just a story. Sometimes it happens and the world is left unscathed. There were a lot of warning signs, yes. But this could be a coda, a moralistic adage, a story to turn the page on and laugh and be embarrassed by and say, oh, no, I'd definitely do better; a blip. We’d never do anything like that. It's all history, honestly.)

It's not romantic, and it's less gentle than you’d have expected: Tzuyu bites your lip at one point, and you grab her hip so hard she yelps. The pause in the after is filled with a provocation, a stare, a tilt of your head, and her saying, “hey, easy now.” You cup her face in your hands, and run your thumb over lips. The calm is pretty short-lived. She gets her hands working frantically to tear your shirt off over your head. Then it's a haphazard stumble into the doorframe of the bedroom, with her pulling you in too-hard by the waist, bumping your nose against hers in this rough meeting - until your lips fit together.

“Mm,” Tzuyu’s mouth pushes insistently into yours and your tongue immediately laves at its underside, coaxes it to slide against yours and soon she’s sliding forward on purpose - on her own initiative, pressing the steady line of your cock against the seam of your pants, the pressure sudden.

"Watch it," you murmur, breaking away a little to glare at her, which just makes her smile, like she likes pissing you off or something, likes watching you get mad at her, or whatever - if she says it's true, then it is, probably - she's honest.

Her small hand darts up, gripping the sides of your jaw tightly and moving in, kissing like it's easy; like she knows what the fuck she's doing. Her head tilts and she does it again, except it's a few times in a row, making out in the doorway.

"And if I say no?" She grins, hand at your dick again, just palming through the fabric and getting off on your soundless reactions to it all. "Like, is that really enough? I feel like you'd have to like - tie me up. Something - you know?"

"That sounds like a you problem."

A mischievous smile steals across her lips and you feel yourself doing the same. "Yeah, you're right," she responds, dragging her thumb and forefinger from the zipper of your jeans to the hard line of your cock, pinching gently along the shape. "It is my problem."

She feels pliant, more than willing, but it's a calculated type of softness. Still, you get a hint, a vague message and you figure, the way this girl's smirking in her lips: she likes being held down, held fast and steady, so you pin her wrists above her head - her eyes stay on you, don't drop; you pin her, and her expression becomes that shade more dark, more teasing. Oh, you'll go slowly, you think, until Tzuyu gives. You'll climb a hand further under her sweater, let it skim over her ribs. You'll kiss her again, open-mouthed, and slow, until she can't breathe.

Her head knocks into the wall, she bites and smiles like a promise, and all her muscle flexes under your grip. "Oh, seriously," Tzuyu whispers into your mouth. "Y'know, this is like a fantasy of mine.”

And that's kind of it: she has that look. In the morning, you can see yourself chasing her down into sheets - just pinning her with the weight of your whole body, feeling each tensed curve of her against you. She pulls you closer, into her; she seems the type.

"I’d really rather not hear that, Tzu.”

"And I want to hear you say please, more than anything," Tzuyu laughs at herself, something hard in it, "but I think you want to fuck me so bad, it'll come naturally. Like, the second you have your fingers inside me. And that's what you want, right? Tell me."

"I'm thinking about your legs,” you tell her, running your palm around the curve of her thigh. Fuck, she’s perfect. “Think they'd fit around my waist."

"And hook my ankles? I’d love that." Her eyes crinkle. "Is that it, though?"

"Maybe I'd keep my hand on your throat and fuck you like that, too. That's on the table."

Tzuyu laughs: a real, actual sound, but not at you. "It is. You're smart."

"To be completely transparent," you mutter. "I don't plan on asking you very nicely at all."

The lines in Tzuyu's face go a little blissful, contented, like she's so, so pleased with this, like she approves, and she kisses you again, the length of your bodies pressed together, except where her hips cant up and meet the space between your thighs. You drag a hand roughly along her waist, kneading muscle there, down to the rise of her jeans - which, fuck, you need to help her shimmy out of and find the pull of the sweater, whatever - and she grinds out some noise, something caught between her throat and her teeth, but mostly in the place where your hand's dragged under the material, tugging gently at the wire of a bra, and you'd actually kind of forgotten it was a thing.

It's when you hear her own rasp, when she slips the side of your zipper open with a few quick strokes, shoving her fingers inside to hold the base of your cock, that you finally decide:

She's yours and you'll prove it. You'll make sure she knows: the evidence, the fingerprints, the bruises blooming the size of your thumbs and she'll be the one showing them off with pride. She'll let you do whatever you like, which'll be a lot. She'll appeal to all the worst parts of you; she'll say thank you; she'll whimper while you're pulling her bra off and simply letting it flutter to the ground; she'll be crying within the first half an hour of you touching her. You can read it right off her gorgeous face. She'll be so damn breathtakingly-pretty, bouncing on your cock, folded under your weight - it'll be incredible. She'll be yours.

"Come on," Tzuyu breathes. "Yes. Please," she adds, as though it's an afterthought, her free hand tangling in your hair, pulling. "Hurry, or something - I fucking love this but we need to- I’m literally going to, like, die if you don’t touch me right now."

"Yeah," is what you get out. Her jeans finally fall to her ankles and she kicks, to get them to puddle onto the floor. "Yeah. Alright, maybe."

You won't even need to hear her begging, you already know how she sounds: a little annoyed and very turned on, rolling her eyes at herself. This part - she's playing at resistance, but she's giving in. A kiss back, hotter than you were expecting, as you slip a hand up the back of her bare thigh and the edge of her underwear, a thin strip, like it's done on purpose.

When you tuck a finger inside the waistband, feeling a little guilty about the way her whole body reacts - the flex, the pull, the weight of all her muscle straining against how her legs fall open - Tzuyu manages, her face in the hollow of your cheek: "you've waited long enough, right?"

God, she knows where the wounds are still fresh. Which bruises will hurt most when she puts a finger right into one - a reminder you couldn't possibly ignore. She's playing this whole thing a little bit sadistically; she wants this to be your fault, you can tell.

And your mind isn't unbending. You push a finger into her cunt and the girl absolutely shakes apart, body jerking like you've severed a lifeline. She's so wet, and so pretty, so sensitive. Maybe you really have.

"Tzu," you tell her. The hand in your hair tightens, a warning, as you let two, then three, fingers shove inside her. She's breathless; the slow, rough motions, her entire body riding the heel of your palm. "Do you want me to tell you how good you are for me, right now? Is that it?"

"Yeah - do. Please, fuck - please say it."

"I was right," is what you manage, biting your tongue.

"Right?" She asks, her fingers locked, urging your thrusting to turn punishing. "Please."

"Do you want me to make this a nice, pretty little memory? Suck the bitterness out and - have something sweet to go back to, the next time someone hurts you."

"I can take it." She snaps, not even responding to your comment. "Tell me you need me and you're leaving me no choice."

You smile into her hair, because she's a dream. Your thumb pushes into her clit and you can feel her seize up with a pathetic whine.

"Pretty," you mutter, as she slumps her chest to yours. You kiss it right into her hair. “I need you, Tzu.”

And the idea's seductive: keep her pinned and fuck her right into the wall. See her wrecked by the end; the swell of her thumb bloody from how she was biting into it, how she's wrenching at your wrist. Your lips land over her collarbone - no, hers do, to the side of your head - she'd be bent in half if it wasn't for the wood at her back. Her leg crossed in the small of your back. A proper, all-consuming kind of wrecking, with your name on it.

"Yes." Tzuyu nods into your temple, “just- that.”

You're kissing the crook of her neck; your fingertips sliding right against the end of her, your fingers pressing into her and stretching the girl to her limits, making her tremble in her own skin, making her insides melt for the next round, and the next round, and the next; the best, and worst, and longest-lasting kind of high. Your fingertips push together, flutter apart, and Tzuyu's eyes open all of a sudden, locking onto yours.

"Please," she gasps, this one thing. She has tears in her eyes: her face falls into your hands like water, a long drip, and she's all but unraveling.

"I'm going to make you cum, okay?" you tell her, and it sounds so sincere that she simply nods. She trusts you. Implicitly. You see how something in her relaxes, muscles unwinding as though for one last moment. Then you lean down, to her ear, to murmur: "say you're mine."

Her teeth are gritting. You can feel every last point.

"Just yours," she mutters, and it's barely even audible, but she'll say it: over and over, as her orgasm builds, before her mouth goes slack. "Always been. From the very beginning, please-"

“Fuck,” you bite down, and she looks like she’s won.

“So long, y’know?” she manages, in her halting voice, as if you haven't got two fingers up her sweet, perfect cunt, which is, currently, gripping the shit out of your hand, the hungry slutty muscle spasms, a slippery fist; it's not too hard getting Tzuyu to talk dirty and vulgar like a total degenerate - all it takes is the circle of your thumb and she’s perfect and pliant and absolutely out of her mind. “Since like, forever-”

You need her to stop. Need her to be quiet. Your palm lands over the shape of her mouth. She's murmuring something else, but it's muffled - and that's perfect, really. You’re not going to hell; all the devils are already here, getting off on the impropriety-

On the fucking drag of your fingertips. If it isn’t mean, it’s definitely cynical. Each curl of a knuckle unwinding her, a little more, a little further. The gush of her slick that’s collected on the webbing between your fingers is getting unruly, and you’re pressing her mouth flat against your hand, muffling the sheer appreciation.

“Shh,” you tell her, and she seems to calm - insofar you find a spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back and her chest shudder. “Don’t. Hold still for me, I want to watch you cum, Tzu.”

The only thing you can hear beyond the stilted breathing against your hand is her wet cunt getting stretched and fucked on your fingers. It’s so simple. So straightforward. The front of her orgasm makes her jolt against your hips and you pin her again, just to see those gorgeous eyes opening and shutting in sync.

It's this beautiful thing, watching her cum; her flushed cheeks, her pupils blown.

"Good girl," is the only thing you manage in response. "Such a good - such a good little-"

She moans into your hand and finally the muscles of her core tighten, tipping over the precipice as she tips back from the edge. "Ah, you - oh, it feels so-”

You tell her not to talk, and thumb her sensitive clit until the girl's screaming.

Her cries cut through the hallway: the friction, your movements - she's grinding desperate to ride her own orgasm. The absolute highs wracking her silent. She doesn't seem capable of getting off her tiptoes, or opening her eyes properly. Her mouth's still gaping beneath your palm with a whimper, her lungs heaving, and her cunt practically burning-hot - or, she just is, she's overheating, and everything else is burning around her.

"I'm going to fuck your pretty little cunt, Tzu," you tell her as her hips jump and her eyes open. You drop her leg, which buckles instantly. "You're going to be good for me, won’t you?"

"Yes, sir," Tzuyu promises you - it makes you wince - like she'd say anything else, with her hips pushing into your hand like she can't remember how not to.

Even with her brain turning to mush, Tzuyu finds it within her to tease, to pull, to coax - as her slick slides down the seam between your fingers, like she's gushing, a wet ribbon coating the backs of your knuckles. There's a fantasy in it, you think - and it's always the unapologetic type, like, they never admit it: they want the dirt, the debasing. There's always a blueprint to it; they want to hear how terrible it is and then have some fun playing into it, playing a part.

Only Tzuyu’s lip is wobbling; she’s looking at you like you’re going to fuck her apart and she’ll thank you for it. There's no play. Tzuyu wants your cum and she's so open-legged about it you can't pretend it's not exactly that simple.

She’s going to fall apart if you don’t shove your cock in her tight cunt. You need to pin her there - fuck her until she’s shaking. You can already see the face she’ll make when you shock yourself inside her-

"What is it, baby?" you ask her, and a beat later, you draw your zipper down with a steady hand, the other working in her mouth, pressing down the tip of her tongue - not exactly holding, not exactly pulling out of her.

Tzuyu sighs, heavy on her eyelids and slow. Very pretty.

"I want-" Her head is lolling. She's in a daze, now, you can tell: her mouth wet and trembling, her legs kicking weakly, a full-bodied tremor overcoming her. Everything wraps around you as your cock slides inside her: the pale-soft underside of her legs, her slender arms. All those lovely, endless tensed lines, her strong abs. She can hold you like this, with only her abdomen tightening, the rest of her almost liquid. Her head knocks into yours. "Fu-fuck my cunt, fill it, please.”

You use the angle, the approach. Her pussy's practically spasming on the thick tip, milking the hardness there - but the deeper, more confident strokes, you feel it in every one of her shaky breaths. The only thing you can see is Tzuyu's dumb little doe eyes, the one-to-two second interval, fluttering in between slow, heavy blinks. The walls of her pussy are all at once so gentle and smooth, her cunt a plush, warm vice on your cock; she's clinging, and hot, and you're so buried inside you could probably pick her apart with a few words alone:

"Please," she's muttering to herself, and every single cry gets stuck in her mouth and vibrates between the both of you.

Your fingertips hook into the curve of her waist, until your nails are sinking into the flesh, pinching gently, and watching her expression twist, you grip her hips with all the bruising-strength in your hands, yank her back onto your cock. Her spine goes rigid as a line of curses fall like rain from her mouth. A shuddering gasp - you have to steady her against you, where her knees lock tight around your waist as though she's worried you're leaving, like she's scared you won't stay-

"Baby," you grit out, like you'd beg too, "Oh- fuck, my baby, you're - you're all mine, okay."

You bury yourself balls-deep - and there's no pretense, it's just you and her, the pace making Tzuyu's little repeating "ah" go choppy with your thrusting, her eyes clamping shut, her limbs locking around you.

"Too deep," she groans. "Jesus, it's-"

"Uh uh," you mutter against the bend of her chin, and press in, still, maybe just to spite her. "Fight me. If it's too deep."

There’s tears in her lashes, she’s sobbing; you’re fucking her so properly you think she wants to kill you. It might even be written into that glossy expression: death, your demise. But her pretty eyes glint with mischief and her lips split into a grin.

"Try me," and this laugh, coming up from your chest - low, amused. "Go ahead. Put my neck in your hand, if you want-"

There's only ever a couple of moves. Like in chess, the combinations repeat, patterns emerge. Tzuyu pulls into your kiss; her wrist pinned to the wall behind her with one of your hands, the other knocking her thighs apart. Her ankles hook into your hips, just as you knew they would. There are so few options for a person; the only solution's the natural one - the urge to match each other's needs; to lose yourself in the easy push and the easy pull.

It doesn't take long before she opens up beneath you: until there's nothing between the hard pound of your hips and her tender, creaming cunt. Then there's that final gasp, this violent pulse as she takes her hands back from you to cup around your ears and press her lips to the line of your cheekbones and nose and mouth, with her tear-slick skin and saliva and, god - she's a whimperer, you now know, but Tzuyu holds her body still enough to not sway. The picture-perfect example of a good little girl -

That's how you push your mouth to hers: the steady-languid thrust of your cock between the hot clamp of her legs. "Oh, god, you’re gonna make me cum again, christ," her cries go, all muffled, right into your lips. She’s a little lost. Fucked-out. Blissful.

It's not right, though; just pinning the girl against a wall - no, she deserves better. You don't let her fall as you drag her into the bedroom. Not until a tumble into the sheets. She doesn’t try to control the fall, you land on top of her, and Tzuyu laughs a little, but it dies into the hard breaths you can feel bouncing back against your mouth. Her soft thighs pressed beneath your weight, quivering still.

"Fuck your cum into me," She huffs out, softly, more air than noise. You’re practically crushing her. And then the tilt of her head, almost inviting, like a question. "Please. I want it."

In hindsight, the real memory of this moment will be a soft and lovely thing - fabricated mostly: her tiny frame shaking, trembling in its effort to take you in, her voice giving out around a cry as she cums again - there's something sacred there, surely, a holiness that isn't altogether safe, considering what this girl is.

You’ll try not to remember how you fucked her and buried your face between her tits, though she did look up at you through her tears and made it sound sweet, said your name just so, or even the fact that she watched her whole body get filled and only smiled with contentment. That part won’t survive - nor the fact you’ll hold the girl down later and cum inside her three times. Until she’s leaking. Details to be confined to Mina’s cabin-secrecy - or at least, to whatever depth of oblivion, past your will to suppress it, her mind reaches when you bury your hand in her hair and pull her head back to really make sure you've hit every corner of her and left your cum there, marking her insides, turning her warm.

And look, Tzuyu doesn't balk. Instead she lets you pull her in close, her nails raking into the nape of your neck, the muscles under your skin. She drags scratches down your back as you sink into her cunt, hot, willing - she’s so fucking wet you’re bottoming out in each sloppy thrust.

"Tzu," you can't stop yourself from muttering, almost reverent. You were right, on all accounts. The girl is a problem.

One that is currently collapsing under you. You push her knees up to her elbows, and all her weight melts under your hands, limp and helpless.

"Fuck, your pussy is unbelievable.” You shouldn’t be fucking her this hard, but, well, you are - “Tzuyu, baby,” and when your hand comes up to her jaw, she palms it. Takes your thumb into her mouth and sucks. Fuck, it’s all slipping, consuming, you need to cum in her, need to bury your cock deep in her cunt and cum right into that wet sopping mess. Fill her up where she’s molten hot and her walls are gripping you so hard they’re practically begging-

"Yeah," she repeats around the digit, flitting her tongue against your fingertip. “Yeah. Cum for me.”

That's how she likes it. She'll scream, if you let her. If you give her the deepest fill. She’ll apologize and she won’t know for what. You already know how her expression will shift as soon as it hits. Head falling back. Her hands fisting in your hair, the bedding - her knees nearly get drawn up, and you push them apart by your fingertips. She whimpers, and whimpers, and you can't stop from fucking the pretty noises right out of her lungs until she's dripping - soaking you, all over the sheets. You want her to feel it when you leave. Your presence. It’s only fair - she should remember some part of you, in exchange for what she’s traded and stolen away - ideally forever.

You thumb at the tear tracks and lift her by a fistful of that pretty dark hair. And for her, you can be kind, you let your lips graze hers. As tenderly as you can manage, which isn't much, but then the angle settles lower, your cock hits deeper, all the right spots - and god, Tzuyu is so easy to fuck. She slips a little, and you’re catching her, pushing deeper, harder - she’s easy to pound too, to hold down and smother and grind deep, to have under you, all boneless, insensible-

"So pretty for me, Tzu," you growl into the shell of her ear, because you can, and another stroke, another velvety drag has you cumming in her hot, little cunt.

Each throb brings more, pumping her full of your cum, and she likes it. Keeps muttering baby, baby please in your ear, and fuck, you almost slip a hand down and make her fall apart too - but - her fingers wrap around your wrist before they get there, so tight.

"Can feel it. So deep," she whispers, when your eyelids screw shut and the mess floods out of her - gets fucked right back in: your hot cum and her thick slick, the creamy mess leaking from her cunt. You pull your cock out halfway, and she does sob - that sounds just like you'd imagine, too. "Please. Oh, my god- sir. That's it. That's it, let it out, sir. Sir, all your cum feels so good in me - please. Please- just give it to me, sir, yes-"

She’s not even taunting or mocking on that ‘sir,’ you think, not the way she sounds now, the halfway-slur. It's all torn up and tired. It makes you press closer, making the head of your cock swell between the thin walls of her pussy. It hurts - the squeeze. And then the soft, pleading sound she makes.

"Anything for you, sweetheart," you groan, a last attempt at a condescending tone. But she's so raw, so broken down by now that nothing is quite right.

"Fuck," she mutters against your mouth, "fuck, thank you," and your palm drags down the length of her sternum, following the angle of her jaw, slipping your palm onto her tits, thumbing at the indent. It's soft, pliant skin, and you pinch: not anywhere sharp or cruel, not especially sensitive, just in a line below the ridge of her rib cage, and it's too pretty a picture not to smile at her, when her entire chest jolts at the contact, the intake of breath. "Sir. Fuck."

"I'm still fucking you later," you assure her, as if her breathing could've convinced you otherwise. "But I wanna hear your voice some more. Hum a little. Give me a yes, sweetheart. Can you do that?"

The noise is barely audible, almost nonexistent, except it is: she hums her assent as you dip two fingertips back into her swollen, well-fucked cunt, scooping out some of the mess. Your fingers hook into her cheek and her mouth opens, because she's so obedient, because that's why it has to be like this.

You rub her bottom lip. Her eyes open into yours; a wet mouth. It's impossible not to see what's right there. It's easy, really, to press through and in, and give her that taste, that warm, velvety brush, like she's been sucking your cock, and maybe - oh, yeah, you'll remind her about it tomorrow, how she's a needy little slut for it, can't get enough - how you could've fucked her face until she was drooling and out-of-her mind - but the way her eyelashes flutter against your touch; the look-

You’ll take your time. You know what she wants: more than anything. It's the thing you can read. Maybe the hot, sticky mess, the flush in her cheeks. A touch to her face. Your thumb in her mouth, too, stretching, prying, holding. More cum falling beneath her tongue, dripping in those gaping, half-open red lips.

She’s licking your load from your knuckles, your Tzuyu. You can’t believe it.

"Swallow," you tell her.

"Mmm," and it’s there: this gorgeous expression on her features, her eyelids dropping, the shimmer, the shine. You'd do anything to keep it there.

You let your thumb leave the corner of her mouth and it stays open, just the tip of her tongue darting out to taste what little she can. The rest of her lulls back with a satisfied murmur, eyes half-closed, clearly the type of content-afterglow of wanting the man who'd just ruined her. A gratitude, or a simple, silly thing, if he would just pick her up in his arms: "thank you, sir."

Her panties end up back around her hips, and a new shirt's thrown haphazardly on, a soft, gray cotton which rides down, slipping past one pale shoulder. And then she turns over, to the side, her back curling into the heat of your chest. There's no attempt at leaving or any plans either. The arm you've loosely wrapped around her waist simply tugs. It's not subtle or even nice: your hand rucks up the fabric and snaps the waistband, and the soft cotton doesn't stop it from being painful.

"Fuck me again." Tzuyu shakes off with a shrug. She's wiggling her ass, practically. She's not wrong, you suppose - your cock hardens easily, more of a reaction. "Are you just going to - keep teasing?"

“Such a brat,” you say, and that makes her whole body tense; she makes the most beautiful sounds for you, but words, praise, humiliation - those always hit harder. You know your girl.

"Your brat," says Tzuyu, easily. "You can do whatever you want."

Your grip on her hip is brutal. Of course you know. That doesn't mean you can't look for loopholes, anyway, right? You don't move, but the threat's there.

The look she shoots over her shoulder is smug. "I like it rough, or something. Doesn't it make you mad that someone could've had me before?"

"Should I be?" You're swiping your cockhead through her folds before you have a chance to say, "Should I care that some guy's had my little cocksleeve before? Should I be angry that someone used my pretty toy before I got to?" You thumb at the tightness, and Tzuyu gives up the front immediately and jerks her hips backward. "If I wasn't the first?"

"Not exactly," comes Tzuyu's mild answer, "not if I was always thinking of you. Plus, they didn't make me feel like that." She tips her head up, to nip at your jaw. She's smiling so fucking coy when she adds: "please, don't hurt me too bad."

You wrap your hands around her. Press a kiss into her shoulder.

“Or do, maybe. Whatever feels natural, you know," she bites down.

"The hickeys are going to be difficult," you agree. "People are gonna see them and they'll picture themselves, probably, with you spread out, huffing, gasping - fucking you out of a brain."

"As they should," she says, and then hums this low, heartfelt note into the mattress. "So how hard can you do this, hm?" She's moaning into the pillow as you slip back into her cunt, but it's a challenge, the tilt in her voice. "Like, if I ask, real nicely."

Who’d have ever guessed she was so filthy. All hidden behind the pristine, the perfection. The prim girls are always the worst: all that beauty means more to them wrecked than revered - it means they've won, again.

Well, that works just fine. She's won you over.

You lean into her shoulder, murmuring, “you’re pushing your luck here, Tzu.”

“Am I?” Her head tilts back until it finds the curve of your jaw. Those deep brown eyes flashing. She knows what’s coming, her pussy tightening prettily. "I'm sorry, sir. I’ll clean up my act."

And the little smile. The fucking dimple, proudly stitched into her cheek - right as you pull her back onto you again, your length working its way slowly into her cunt. The way her ass fits in your hips lets you know you're no match for this girl: how unbelievably good it feels to be inside her. Hot, tight, wanting. Pressed tight between her gorgeous thighs.

“Guess I never noticed,” she says, before falling quiet with the soft punch of breath as you drag her backwards, against your body and the rocking press of your hips. Her eyelashes tremble while your cock nudges its way fully inside her pussy. The rest, as it seems, is silent: only the crash of skin, the sound of your breathing.

You’re already gathering her hair into your fist when you tug her back to your waist, mouth hovering right at the shell of her ear: "fuck, you take my dick like you're made for it. Do you even know how good your pussy feels? I'll ruin you if you let me. We can find out together," you tell her, pulling her back onto your cock. A wordless, pained, perfect whimper.

Tzuyu lets herself go slack against your chest.

She's taking you like a dream and that's it, that's enough, all you've got to say, and Tzuyu, jesus-fucking-christ, she does it with a laugh: this awful, melodic, bright, sweet, airy fucking thing: "don't fucking test me, Tzuyu -" you repeat, a warning.

Tzuyu bats those long lashes, like it'll mean anything, like this isn't all the proof you need.

"Okay. Don't tease, then.” Her hand reaches up to the nape of your neck, finds your body close and hot. She sighs. “I want to feel it, sir. So much that I can't walk after. That I'll still have you in me. I want it all to hurt. Is that too much?"

All she does is try to hide her smiles, and she's terrible at it. There's a gasp buried underneath her giggling, one that Tzuyu loses every time she moves her body with yours. There are only two conclusions now: either she's that perfect of a fuck or she's as full of shit as you are. Either way, the dimple's giving her away - her smile, her lips, the full, syrupy brown of her gaze.

Tzuyu wraps that leg up and back around you and the angle is devastating.

"Baby, I want you- I want your cock deeper - yes, baby. Deeper - as deep as it'll go. I want you to fuck me until I can’t think, until there's nothing I can do. Seriously. Fuck me."

Her hand dives over the shirt; there's no question when your gaze follows the trail she takes over her tensing body, over the curve of her breasts and down to where she's dragging at her pussy, where she's exposed herself. She finds the space and lets the fingertips flutter down, onto her needy, swollen clit; the place where your bodies join and separate; the throbbing pulse of her pussy.

"And then fuck me some more,” she adds, like that'll help. Her pussy fits you like a glove - it’s not fair. It’s not right.

But she's so beautiful up close, eyes fluttering in pure, concentrated rapture as she loses the tension in her face - one more thing that the facets, angles, and shades of Tzuyu become, something you tuck away in a vault somewhere safe; a secret just between the two of you.

Her hand runs up your thigh, fastens back on your hip. “You owe it to me, to use my body a little bit, don’t you think?”

There's no sense fighting it, not anymore - maybe there never was - and when you grip Tzuyu's upper thigh, tilt her leg upwards, she gives you an anticipatory hum. This light sound. An ankle lands over your hip, and what follows is a tight, enveloping slide, your cock buried in her wet pussy. So close together that she can't move much at all except to take it - the hard thrust, the one that forces its way up to the hilt. She's impossibly, overwhelmingly soft, a pleasure unlike any other. The absolute worst kind.

She knows exactly the danger of getting involved with you, and when she cums, once, again, and once more - her eyes water, her voice flooded - you think, so do you.

It’s in the hours of the morning that’re not quite today, nor quite tomorrow when Tzuyu leans on the end of the bed as she stretches. A loose t-shirt is draped over her petite body - you glance over at her as the bottom of the fabric lifts, exposing more skin across her legs. No matter the circumstances, the space she inhabits will always feel charged. She could wear a potato sack and have the same effect, you suppose, because that's just how she is: Tzuyu is magnetizing.

"That is definitely not yours," you say, finally.

The girl has a lovely arch to her back, a golden glow of perfection that you can't find elsewhere. That's when Tzuyu laughs and spins around. "Is that a question?"

You only have yourself to blame. Of course it's not hers. The shirt's oversized and could fit all five feet, eight inches of her like a tent. It doesn't belong to her, but her heart-shaped lips make you feel stupid, so you're giving her a second chance. You really need that shirt back. You packed light, it's your favorite tee, it’s a family heirloom, or something - whatever makes her get it off, you guess. You sit up against the bed, and watch her fingers hook into the hem as it slowly peels off from her frame.

And that is - a vision.

You already knew - but it's worth repeating, or forgetting your name and every last bit of your existence for; the sharp collarbone, the striking red lines beneath them, the palest, sweetest chest. Her breasts, a bit smaller, a bit rounder than normal (not that you would know), sit heavy in her hands, soft and full - oh, the hickeys, the perfect peaks and the bruised nipples - she's an aphrodisiac.

"I want one later," she tells you, and runs a hand over her breast, pressing against the angry red marks that color the pale skin.

"A shirt?"

She turns back toward the mirror, an image reflected tenfold - a beautiful flush on her high cheekbones. It's only a small win to think that those rosy cheeks are there because of you. Only a little one, if at all. "One of yours, sure."

You laugh, but she looks taken aback. "What, you mean like a keepsake?"

"Hey, if it smells good." Tzuyu brings up the neckline to her nose, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second before they snap closed. "Yes. Like a keepsake, is that so unnatural?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you are, like, really forward." You thought you knew, but there's this part of you that wonders. Why the sudden revelation. "Not that it isn't obvious. I meant...with the rest. Just to clarify."

"With sex, you mean?" Her smile turns a little sheepish. "I can tone it down a little. I don't even notice sometimes, I just talk."

You walk forward and wrap your arms around her waist. You fit easily around her. "Don't," you say, quietly, against the back of her neck. "It's nice, in a way."

She cranes her head to trade the reflection of your eyes for the real thing. Her body is soft, warm. "You like to talk too."

"Right."

"Your favorite past-time."

"Point taken." Your thumb runs down the middle of her breast and traces her nipple. It's tender, you note. You can’t really keep your hands off her waist, or stop touching her tits - because who would ever let something so delightful pass them by? Not you. No way. "Want to hear a story?"

"If it's coming from you," she whispers, a little smile, a lot of entendre, "I’ll listen to anything."

"Do you see the wall over there?" You nod to the window. She follows it with her gaze, her chin jutting towards your shoulder, her long neck arching. It's hard not to kiss it. There's a clear stretch of drywall beside her desk. She nods. "When I came here with Sana and Mina last," and your nose presses into her hair, inhaling her, the way she smells like something tropical: vanilla and citrus. Something far from here. "I put up a few paintings. I'm handy sometimes, a hammer seeking a nail sorta thing."

Tzuyu almost snorts, and sways a bit in your grasp. You tighten your hold, not wanting to drop her. "Oh?” she teases out, suggestive. “Show me."

(You shouldn’t. You can’t stop, frankly. Fucking Tzuyu is in its own category: the luxury, the treasure, the extravagance; feeling between your fingers the finest silk, the richest cashmere.

Her palms slide higher up the wall, fingers splayed. The curve of her back, the pull of her hair. Tzuyu kissing you like the world will end and the moon will be the first to know, her fists curling into your back, a furious, frantic urgency - Tzuyu fucking you. Well. Tzuyu always, always kissing you; it's the universe resetting, it's a timeline rewritten, it's trading everything sweet for salt, giving you teeth and tongue, the insides of her lip rubbed raw - she tastes like 80 Proof, a sticky, melting liquor, and it goes down too easy. "Why are you making this hard for me." It's not a question, her face in your neck - then she says, like there's a hundred other things, a hundred thousand ways you can ask:

"What makes you think I want to make this easy?")

The power goes out early in the morning.

Which means you're in the dark. But, it's alright. You consider for a moment the omen-like timing, if such an idea is ludicrous in the first place. This could be a metaphor. After all, what is Tzuyu if not a classic trope? It isn't fair to judge anyone based off their flaws. For starters, you have more than you can count. You consider a moment longer, that the timing isn't metaphor-worthy. After all, if this was a punitive force, you're certain that it would've been more apparent, more explicit, if the electric panel had burst into flames or the cable box was shot-out; something bigger, flashier, less like something that you'd play up for theatrics. And it probably would've been when you had the girl on all on fours, your handprints seared into the round of her ass-

Or, when she got on her knees. The snap of darkness setting in as you slipped your cock out of her lips and spilled a rope of hot cum on her face, in her hair. The way she just relaxed into it, a reverence to her being baptized, kneeling. “Oh, Tzu,” you said, with a fist around a cock, and jerked the rest right out on her tongue. You probably would have heard her sniffle after, still recovering from her choking a bit.

Or, when you had half a mind to kneel down between her legs in the shower, suck her clit until she was dripping, fucking her open with your tongue; you could taste her sweat, her slick, and imagine how hard it must be to put up that front: biting into a washcloth, trying not to fall apart.

(Karma arrives late, or it doesn't arrive at all. Or, something. Who knows. It doesn't matter. The outcome would have remained the same.)

Tzuyu opens the sliding glass door to the balcony.

You watch her from behind - there's a small pile of snow at the edge. The whole mountain has gone into complete darkness. No moon, no lights, no light poles, or blinking bulbs or strobe signs or house lights - just night. How eerily romantic, that. And if there was an excess amount of snow before, it only got heavier, thicker, now weighing on the steel bars of the railing.

Tzuyu rests her hands there, leaning her hips a bit forward, so far that her knees lock. Her back bends. "It's so weird," she breathes out, and you can see your exhales, both of yours. "I feel like you and I are the only ones here right now. Everyone else is probably taking shelter. Maybe the power went out for everybody."

"Maybe."

"It's all a bit spooky. Or creepy. But, exciting too, yeah?" She turns, just enough. Her fingertips run along the side of her face. "In the mountains, yes." She doesn't even need to say the rest, doesn't need to ask: does that appeal to you? All this isolation? I could scream and scream and nobody would ever hear it. I'm yours to fuck, to have, to own, to do anything to-

"It'll probably be fixed in the morning," you tell her. "Who would turn it back on tonight. To this place. They'll start at the closest areas to town and go out from there."

"Mina has a generator," Tzuyu supplies helpfully. "No living clue where."

"Want to look for it?"

She lets her head tilt, as if to follow the expanse of trees leading up into the rocky ground. "Would it kill us to wait for tomorrow?" Her bare toes curl into the floorboards. The blanket stays wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and a single line of her wrist can be seen when she tilts her arm a certain way. "We won't die or anything."

You wouldn't die, not before being smitten with a different death, falling headfirst and in love; and that's what you've felt since the start, since the beginning: you've always wanted more. It was always inevitable, her letting her weight fall backwards, in the living room - all your filthy secrets falling out. It felt like the sky had dropped. All over the bedroom floor.

"Then let's get some sleep," you say, but still step closer, as you do with anyone, to brush aside the strand of hair over her ear.

It feels like the temperature must have dropped dramatically. Not that it bothers either of you very much, you note, when you move under the blankets together. Some might feel embarrassed by the necessity, but then, most aren't half the people that you both are.

Tzuyu presses her fingers under her thigh to keep her legs shut. To avoid the cold, she claims, but you can hear the slippery noises that her cunt makes as her body shakes with each thrust of her fingers. You almost suggest that you heat her up in an entirely different fashion, but the smile, her smile, gets the best of you. Instead, you let yourself touch and trace, and feel her wherever it may land. There's no sense in pretending either, so you tangle yourself into her: a finger between her legs. Another in her palm, resting against her hip. When you press your thumb against her cunt, she begins to smile, too, as if to show you exactly what kind of person she is. That is to say, completely insatiable.

You let your free hand slip under her chin. Tilting her head up, exposing the faint pulse-points. You wonder if she's imagining the things you'd do if the snow never cleared: toying with her hair, petting the top of her head, speaking pretty and dirty and pressing kisses against her bare back, in a rhythm, as you fuck her without care - something close and tight like the little noises she makes and how they die off, finally, when you push your cock deeper, still.

There are no words between you anymore, maybe - but she's not laughing, and you're not angry, and it's only one second before your mouth is on her neck, kissing the column of her throat. It's easy to sleep with her - so, so simple, if not anything else.

"I don't have anything in the morning," you murmur to the top of her shoulder, barely moving as not to break the moment. To tell her it's fine to leave her body or keep it forever. Either way. Both, if it's an option.

She smiles. Her eyes are still closed. "It'd be weird if you did."

She can be a tease - a complete brat - sometimes. Like now. But then again, who would you be if not the person who falls for exactly that.

And that is a weakness: you have a very specific kind of hunger, that won't fade, that can only be sated. She knows it, and yet her coy grin remains. It's a habit, not a mistake. "Yeah, well," you lean up onto your forearm, pressing the knuckles of your right hand against her soft cheek. "This is the most inconvenient of all places, but- don't worry about it."

"Meaning?"

"I don't think they sell birth control or morning after pills or anything up here," you explain, lightly. Your gaze passes from her eyes to the pink of her bottom lip and back, again.

"Do I look like I'd care?" Tzuyu sighs and takes your wrist, pulling your arm over her body. "I know what I'm doing," she adds, which might actually be a lie. "Obviously. You don’t need to pretend you’re like, responsible, or whatever."

Yes, obviously. As if it was all as easy as pulling strings, deciding exactly which points to tease, to stress. You should know. You just kissed and held down and fucked and fucked your cum into this one: you know how to move her strings better than any.

You flip the switch in the kitchen. Up, down, up, down: except, nothing. The electricity is still decidedly off by mid-morning, and you and Tzuyu end up having actual, quality, conversation.

You sit her on the kitchen counter - though it’s not fated to last long, because her legs loop around your waist, and she tugs your sweats down as you try to fix the two of you lunch - Tzuyu gets what Tzuyu wants, of course - so you're standing there fucking her while her head leans back on the cool marble, her silky dark hair tumbling off the end of the counter.

She ends up propped up on one elbow. Eyes hazy and half-lidded, fixed on the glide of you into her creamy folds, spreading her wider, wider.

Tzuyu asks questions - all innocuous, at least to the ear. About your past. Who you were before all this. Whether you want kids, when, whether you were religious, once. She gets personal before you have her cumming and incoherent: how you sleep, in what positions. How often you jerk yourself off. What you're thinking of when you do. How you'd use her - not the lewd version, the spitting, filthy iteration, just the you and her and her being yours part. And she gets specific about that. She'll slide up to you and bury her nose in your throat, wrap her arms around your shoulders, mumble about wanting you closer - you feel her, maybe more than you should - but every few seconds you're sliding home into that pussy and her chest heaves out a deep breath-

"I want what's in here," she finally says, her delicate palm cupping your balls. She's pulling you into her on each stroke like the fucking sun's gone out and this is her last chance - she's magnetism, gravity, a blackhole you'd give up the rest of the universe to. She's got one fist on your shirt, and the other hand on your sack, and her pussy's fluttering around you, and she's watching you watching her, and it's infinity:

"The idea of you." Tzuyu smiles at the way your eyes narrow, the way the word turns itself over and over on your mind, her. She tilts her face to look at your expression. "Like, in here. All your cum. There's so much. Can I please have it-"

You swear.

"Pretty please, baby," Tzuyu's asking if you'll fill her up, if you'll make her your cumdump, keep fucking her even with all your cum inside her, asking what the worst of your fantasies are - you fuck harder, deeper, and she nods eagerly, tightens that fist in your shirt. "Can you give it to me? Please, it's the only thing I need, and we both know I always need something, please."

"Jesus fucking christ," you tell her, helpless, and it's never felt better: her cockwarming on your lap, her teasing and teasing until your self-control's paper thin - won't you? won't you? fucking breed this slutty little cunt? won't you cum until I'm so full it's spilling out-

The snap. Like falling, it’s something you notice right away, but only ever understand a long ways down.

"Yours," moans Tzuyu, half in an accusatory fashion - fuck - she's almost gasping: "fuck - just use me, use your cumdump, 'cause you'll never have a tighter cunt than this."

God. Damn. Her. You cum so hard it aches, and there's no hesitation:

"My cocksleeve, my good girl, shit-"

"You could leave a baby in me, even, just like that. Couldn't you. Isn't that hot. And nobody could do a fucking thing." Tzuyu’s tits are spilling out the sides of her camisole and she looks like pure porn, in person. Your cum is dripping out of her and you watch as it spills on the marble.

"Is that what my girl wants?

She smiles, again, so prettily.

“You wanna be full of cum, is that it?" You grab Tzuyu's hair; pull just enough to get the point across. "Is that it? You're a perfect cumslut who needs all that fucking cum, huh? Wants it pumped deep? You like being full of it, right Tzu? This needy little cunt loves the thought of getting bred? Knocked up? Goddamn, Tzu."

"That's me," agrees Tzuyu, in the afterglow. Dimple dug deep. "Yeah. Your personal cumslut, sir."

She just grins when you reach between her thighs, pressing your fingers into the cum you've fucked into her, before you decide that the wet warmth is yours and you’re going to fuck her even further into delirium.

Her hips come up off the granite, desperately.

"Uh-huh," she mumbles, already drifting - you put her off her balance, for real. "God, yes, please," she's whispers, as if all the ways you'd ruin her were prayers, like she wants to start a new religion all her own: you're a god, and it's all about Tzuyu - just you, and her, asking, again, the questions piling on top of other ones, the sweet drawl, the sinful want, the curiosity-

Fuck. She wants everything about you, your dirty secrets and your nice manners - the stories behind your scars, your funny little quirk of raising just one eyebrow at a time-

You turn her around. She's made for this, intelligently designed: her tiptoes just touching the floor, the delicious curve of her lower back, your cock sliding effortlessly into her and hitting a spot she arches into like it's divine intervention and that pussy making its first church of your name. The cum you'd already left in her cunt is making everything wetter, making those obscene sounds echo in the space around the two of you. It's rapturous; you let her feel it slow, and deep, and it’s bliss.

“Tighter,” you growl into her ear, and her cunt clenches like you own it.

The girl's figure is pristine, an ass that belongs under spotlights, on camera; those thick lips, the curtain of her hair when she tips her chin down. It's all been in magazines, billboards, it's been idolized - she is the icon and you're the follower, but, this weekend, here and now-

"So. Fucking. Good-" she gasping, falling apart. She’s collapsing and it’s not even noon.

"Oh, the world knows." You pull her up, hold her body in yours and snap into her cunt. Her skin's hot, feverish, the light that filters through the blinds and the snow slows outside.

It all happens without a moment’s notice - Tzuyu reaches behind and clutches your thigh, as if she could ever pull you deeper, like it wouldn't tear her in half. But you find yourself in a position to grab the edge of the counter; your phone buzzes. It's Sana, probably asking what's up. You want to ignore it and keep fucking Tzuyu from behind. You want to hold her hips, be mindful of the marks, the bruises, sink your fingers into her hair, her tits - you end up murmuring things like please and fucking perfect and if we were a little more religious then you'd be a sin to remember-

Fuck, you're cumming again. The writing’s on the wall as soon as your cock makes her breath draw short and her eyelids snap shut. She’s exquisite, a masterwork - you’re painting in broad strokes, all over the beautiful curves of her ass - not only because you’ve needed to see it cast in hot streaks of white, all debased with your cum, but simply to prove a point; to say that you can. You cum on her cheeks, her cunt, you pump your fist around your shaft and cum in the crotch of her panties too.

"That's it, Tzu," you croon, "look at that," your spent cock twitching against her plush thighs, her dripping pussy lips, and she's sagged forward, onto the counter, your thumb running through a particularly thick rivulet. Her face dips down, pressed to the cold surface, and the words coming out aren't coherent, are just filthy and true; but they're there: she's taken you and kept you, all for herself.

(Thank you, she says, for making me into your little cockwarmer, your toy, for breaking my fucking cunt, baby - thank you, please, thank you-

You could end your career tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. Just saying, man. This girl, fuck.)

There’s a beat, the strained breathing, the panting, the disbelief. She ends up kissing your chin after sliding back to her feet, a saccharine imitation of chaste. Pulls up her shorts without a second's consideration. Her panties, still sticky with your spend - well. She puts those back, too, grinning dreamily.

Oh, how is a woman like Tzuyu even real, huh? You really do need to find out, somehow.

"Your imagination is…" you say, your tone flat. “I swear.” But you don't deny that the sex isn't. You don't think of her that way. She doesn't ask you for your hopes or your dreams or the full gambit of life, as some people might. She asks about what you think about at three am when she's got one hand on her tits and one on her clit and one finger in her mouth:

"Anything we can think of," she corrects, her long limbs squeezing her tighter to your front. Her grin bright, so perfect she's beyond believable, and how can such a dissonance exist in something, someone, you're holding on to? "I mean, we can if you want."

"Maybe we'll talk about that - how you can handle me," is what Tzuyu rasps, softly, tying her hair up afterwards: and you realize this is her post-coital. For her, sex makes her nice. Sweet.

You've already fixed her lunch; Tzuyu comes to sit down at the table with you. "Like, for future reference." You're raising an eyebrow. She grins at that, kicks her feet. Her hips don't do the same, though - no doubt still a little sore, like her lips. She's worn out, finally. She won't try to slice off and claim any more of your aching soul.

“You have no business thinking about babies.”

“Tell that to my ovaries.”

"You have a breeding kink, is what it is, really. I’m being completely serious."

"Well, am I pregnant yet?" Tzuyu flutters those lashes, puts those big pretty eyes on full display. "No? Then I'm getting off on something else, clearly, isn't it obvious, like maybe there's something about being on the other end of someone so big. Have you considered how wet you make me when you-"

"Tzuyu, cut it out," you chide her. The little brat's giggling. You aren’t going to let her know how pretty the noise is.

"Fine." She reaches across the table, puts her small hand on your larger one. "Like I said - how to handle me." Her tone is placating, the sharp edge to her personality blunted. It's different with Tzuyu - after sex, she gets like this: playful, easy, fond. The mess you've just made, the cunt you've stuffed full, that's another Tzuyu altogether. "For your... benefit."

"My benefit, really?"

"Aside from getting my brains fucked out," she explains, "is what I meant."

"Not making this easier, babe."

Her mouth curves a slow smile. She likes when you call her names, cute shit like that.

"I need to call Sana back," you explain, finally.

Tzuyu nods.

"In a bit," you add. "Also," you're saying, leaning forward. Her head tilts toward yours.

She's receptive, her whole body pliant and lazy, after that, well, marathon - she'll roll with whatever you're suggesting. This has always been a dream to her, she's mentioned. (Who has dreams like that? Someone so young, that innocent - well, yeah.)

But you kiss her temple, lightly. "Gimme a minute."

Tzuyu blinks, in that catlike way she has of staring, intent. Her mouth slightly pouty.

"Then you get your turn," you offer.

"Deal," she nods.

And that makes her beam - your beautiful, very good, very perfect, little toy.

"You're going to have to slow down," you tell Sana over the phone. "I have zero reception up here, sorry."

"The highway is shut down, I literally can't get to the other side of town," she yells over the sound of tires rolling on snow. Sana does not sound in the best spirits. If anything, she sounds slightly desperate. "Part of the mountain collapsed on a cliff somewhere. Fuck's sake. The weather is still terrible and they're shutting everything down. Literally shuttering every road off the base of the mountain."

"You sound good," you deadpan, and when Sana grumbles, say, "try the next exit, head around and take a back road-"

"Yeah, except it's snowing like nobody's fucking business right now - I'm not going to risk exposure to try to get there on my own."

"What should I do?" you try, a bit helpless. "Stay here?"

"Why are you even asking," Sana scoffs, "yes, stay there, stupid. Tell Tzuyu you can't drive in snow, that she can't possibly expect me to deal with any of you leaving a safe situation." There's another brief pause. "Ah, seriously, there is not a single living human being near here that can be helpful - and they're supposed to bring us new tires? Here? No, fuck's sake."

"Oh," is all you say.

"Don't worry about me." Sana's voice goes up a notch. "Just be there, alright? Stay warm, okay?" A crackle, more radio waves or distance.

"Text me," you urge. "Tell me you're getting in safe."

"Of course, of course," and that's when you get the click, the abrupt disconnection. You stare at the device in your hand and consider the possibilities, and the outcomes, and how to stay sane while alone with temptation incarnate for a couple nights.

Maybe this really is hell. Or it's a trial. There’s the storm, and there’s your angel, contextually out of place. You're incapable of controlling yourself, clearly.

You sigh, let your gaze slide. The lights are still out, and in their absence, Tzuyu has dragged every available blanket or bed sheet within her reach into the living space, spread a dozen pillows across the sofa and is now occupying one of the corners: there's a book, opened onto her lap, as her nails run circles down the blanket draped over her lower back.

"Tzu, what exactly did Mina mention to you about the generator," is the first thing you blurt, upon entry, and Tzuyu smiles, holding up the page against the fading daylight - which is currently hardly much. "Better question: how are you able to read in the dark?"

"Takes a lot to shake me off, honestly,” she says, which you already know to be true. “Also my eyes aren't old like yours, so."

"Wow."

"What?" Tzuyu grins, tilts her chin. "Do you want me to say that you're ageless? Thirty, flirty and thriving. So impressive, your youthful vigor, that sort of deal? How attracted I am to your experience," the insinuation, this sudden intimacy. She laughs. "Seriously. Let me read."

"Apparently we're going to be stranded for a few days."

"That's cute." She pauses. "Sucks for Sana."

"You don't know what sucks for Sana."

She peeks over the corner of the page, then, grinning, the teeth of a joke. "What's on the menu, then? Hm? So far, the best part was waking up beside you," and you almost grin, at how honest she manages to be without seeming conceited. How shameless Tzuyu has become in the ways of liking you, and maybe a bit of who she thinks you are. And why that's dangerous, really, and it makes the guilt burrow down beneath your ribs a bit: "my ass hurts," she's complaining now, which is only going to encourage the teasing-

"As it should," you comment, then watch her eyes sharpen, glint with mischief. "Oh," you realize, with a shrug, "do we get to cuddle again."

(Let's hope, for a moment, this isn't really karma. Because really, it'd just be an uncalled-for injustice: Chou Tzuyu delivered down on all fours, head tucked into your thighs as a fist grabs a handful of her hair, a slow push and pull - your cock sinking into the velvet warmth between her lips, again, again, and again until she's ruined and crying and still swallowing you whole - as she, not the universe, forces a massive dose of her own medicine down your throat. You see how that might not be quite fair.)

"But I'll have to leave again," you're protesting - no heat, no vitriol. "There's, like. Stuff I gotta grab."

"Then grab me," she sighs, pats her lap, "read over my shoulder. Make out with me. Just keep me warm. That'd be very helpful, and I would be so grateful."

Well, fuck. You're not one for inflating egos - at least not anybody else's - especially when, unchecked, that tends to do the exact opposite of keeping them grounded.

"Fine," you're muttering, and you clearly have a habit for capitulation wherever Tzuyu is concerned, the quirk in her lips, the quiet pride in her dimple, the cadence in her speech - which she's already smug about.

"Wonderful." She taps the back of her fingernail against a book page, waits, just a few more seconds, her grin spreading as you begin to fumble around. "Please," she says, flicks her gaze back down, a tease, "take all the time you need."

The thing about mountain air is it has a way of clearing your head, cooling down the frenetic thoughts of indecision and uncertainty and moral conflict.

Well, maybe that's a slight overreach, the mountains also have a way of getting you killed, but the intention was to look upon the white caps and ponder. It didn't work.

You eventually find the generator. You hear the clicks of metal and electrical wiring, the roar of the motor kicking on, a steady hum. Then, Tzuyu pokes her head out from behind the shed, her cheeks tinted a warm pink; her eyebrows rise up a beat.

"Yes?" you prompt.

"Is it working?"

"Does it look like it's working, miss?"

"Looks a-okay to me," and she presses the heel of her mitten into her teeth, tries to bite it back down her wrist; she stumbles, a moment, slightly clumsy in the snow. You instinctively reach out. Your hands brush the outer seam of her pajamas, the heavy fabric of her coat - "oh," you can feel the instant the shivers start, "fuck, I'm cold.”

“We’re both probably pretty due for a hot shower,” you say.

"Yeah, you came in my hair. Er, sorry, I meant, we both need a hot shower."

"It was really adorable when you were rutting back on my dick like some horny animal," you snort. "Admit it."

"No comment."

"So shy."

Her smile cracks open, and her breath is a white plume. "Fuck you."

"Sure, babe," you're agreeing, the tone almost saccharine. "If you insist."

She blinks back in mild surprise, the blatant answer - and god, her fucking eyes: soft, dark, her eyelids barely lift up. Even when they should've narrowed. That was another thing to learn. (Maybe, god - who knows, maybe she's still learning how not to care.)

She runs a hand through her hair. The scarf around her neck is fluffing up. There's white clumps settling on the fibers, slowly dissolving into a damp mess.

"Listen," Tzuyu murmurs, wraps an arm around yours to help herself up.

Your palm settles on the round of her thigh. She shifts, her hand dropping lower - tugs at your arm until she has an elbow in hers. The backs of her knuckles settle against your hip bone, her fingertips sliding across the waistband: you walk backwards through your snowprints, gently - the side door to the cabin is unlocked - Tzuyu's stumbling toward it.

"Going to the shower, we're turning the water on," she explains. You grin, feel your own arm, a slow drag around her lower waist; she tilts into it, steps closer. Presses a finger to your chest: "dinner's gonna be in half an hour," she announces, "and before you ask, I've been craving those boxes of instant mac & cheese in Mina's pantry."

"I haven't had one of those in ages."

"Me neither," and with her heel, she kicks the side door shut; Tzuyu yanks on a cord, pulls the blinds closed. It's pitch black. You're chuckling low, turning around - one of Tzuyu's hands smacks over a nearby light switch, illuminating the room just a shade lighter than it was prior. She presses a hand to your chest, a single-minded goal to your front.

You put your hands on her hips.

"It's the kinda thing that makes me feel like a kid again," you hear her say, just slightly; that, and how the white fabric of her sweater twists, pulled to a single point.

"Happens," is the best explanation you can give. She slaps the lightswitch again. Kisses you. You shove a leg forward. She whines. "Be good," you're chiding, though you both stumble until her back is pressed against the wall. "You were just complaining that you're still sore."

"Maybe I can't help it, maybe that's all on you," the end of the sentence fades. Her nails slide up the sleeve of your arm. There's the soft hitch of a moan. "It's just you. So unfair." She rubs up. Swallows like it's instinct, at the slightest hint of friction. You curl your hand, your thumb grazes the waistband of her underwear; her fingertips tighten, her blunt nails sink deeper - press like she means something else, wants something more.

It'll be a few days, at least, more likely a week; and by then, this girl will have you right where she needs you. She's proven, time after time - you can never just say no.

The days bleed together after the snow.

You fuck her, but slower; sometimes softer, a little less raw, the hurt. Not that you'd ever try to take too much: the thought is unthinkable, un-imagined. Infinitely impossible. You'll pull out and empty everything you have, paint her skin, make her ache, fuck until you know exactly where the bruises are and how to touch them, how to breathe the hurt down from her ribs.

But some mornings: she rolls over onto her side, opens her eyes and smiles. Brilliant like the sun, something that would warm your heart even without trying. Some afternoons, you put the fire on; read something aloud from Mina's bookshelves, and watch the red-orange flames turn Tzuyu's cheeks and neck pink and honey. Evenings, especially the colder ones, you're wrapping her up, blankets, sweatshirts, pulling her close: into bed with the lights turned off. She wants the touch, she craves it, she'll almost whimper when you get near her - and it's you, whispering words against her ear; tracing fingertips lightly against her temple, down the nape of her neck, her lower lip-

"How come you don't kiss me, hm?" She sounds sleepy. "Baby. Don't pretend you're a stone. Like, an unfeeling brute."

"I have my limits, princess."

"Like not kissing someone you're fucking." Her face drops from your sight, and Tzuyu turns over: she curls into her comforter, and her legs nudge the back of yours. "That's so fucking cruel," her voice a little whiny. "But okay, okay - tell me the reasons. Just so we can keep going."

"Keep going, huh. Even though I'm mean."

"Well, yeah, I've done much, much worse," the worst, if you think about it; and it's almost true. Maybe her morality was on the rocks long before yours. "Obviously."

You drop a kiss into her hair. "We both know what that mouth of yours is capable of."

She grins into your skin. Presses her lips, like a sign, and stays.

A girl like her inspires the worst in a man, and that's just about it: you think a man would burn the world down for her, with her, and maybe that would be how all things end, someway, somehow - not because of him or her, the full spectrum of his intentions, all the intricacies and subtleties, and hers too. You're both complicated creatures, sure; both very capable and wanting. Of big feelings, deep attachments: the overflow of your good hearts, perhaps; or, rather: the deficits.

She appeals to your worst impulses, in the plainest terms.

"Jesus Christ," you hiss, hands firm on her lower back; your voice breaking; Tzuyu has shed the bedsheets and climbed into your lap, one leg bent at the knee, digging the other into your ribs - her shirt hitches up and over the curve of her spine and then pools at her neck.

"Tell me that's good," she murmurs, hips gyrating, rocking her pussy along your cock. "Like that - right?"

"Fuck- yes," your cock slides into her, your entire length, the rest of the world fogged out: even the fire is quiet. "God, tzu. Feels amazing."

Tzuyu rolls her body forward, rides you with ease, and puts one small hand against your mouth. Her shirt hitches up and over the curve of her spine and then pools at her neck.

"I want to make you cum," she says, all quiet determination and wily confidence, "only you." She rolls her hips in your lap and then finds it: the steady, rhythmic grind down, down. Her ass crashes into your balls; the first telltale sign of that wonderful orgasm to come. "Is it wrong to want this? Like, you and I? Fuck. It feels like your cock was made for me."

"Yeah,” you grit, “fucking you feels - like it's meant to be, huh?"

"Sir," she says with an unhealthy smirk. She’s loving this more than you are, and you can’t really blame her for it: there’s no other sound quite like the slick, wet noise that her pussy makes as her body drops to yours, your cock filling her completely. It's music to your ears.

You grab at her ass, her hip, and pull her closer. She smiles, tilts her face down to you.

"Me too, you know, me too," she murmurs, kissing you softly; when you cup her breasts her breath hitches. "God- fuck- just-"

When she does cum, it's with the faintest little groan; a small, intense quiver in her thighs. You kiss her to swallow down the sound; and feel yourself tip over, and when she fucks you through your orgasm - her smile is dark, wicked, totally satisfied.

And everything else follows, because you're weak: because she makes you want to say no, even while simultaneously being your very favorite yes. You warm your cock inside her with some slow, gentle rhythm, her nipples hard against your shirt, her cries as sweet and earnest as all the best promises; a slow grind down, her fingers scrabbling for the headboard, you lean and lick her breasts, roll her nipples on your tongue - she gasps, tenses, digs her nails hard into your nape.

You'll have her again in the morning, she's adamant.

Her hands find your back, her legs circle your hips. The taste of her sweat. The taste of her nipples; her chest flushed, hair disheveled, pupils blown.

"Not letting me go." She whispers. Her cheeks are a lovely pink. "Even after this?"

You kiss the corner of her mouth, inhaling, wondering what to say.

"Good," Tzuyu tells you, tilting her jaw: "that's really-" She catches her lips with her teeth. "That's so fucking good."

(Her pussy grips your cock like it's the home she's always missed, her lifeline, her safe harbor. And it's dizzying, it's heaven, hell; and, in the morning - when everything is sepia-warm and sleepy - you fuck her again.

A promise, a hope, a plea. It's what makes a girl fall for a guy, in theory.

It's what makes her heart beat. )

"My phone's charging," Tzuyu sniffs the next morning: you're brushing out her hair. The sheets are warm.

You continue combing.

"Sana told me she would be texting, or trying to call."

"Well, that's nice," is all you can manage.

"Babe-" she leans back a bit: turns her gaze to the ceiling, exhaling sharply, "what if she got caught in a whole different avalanche, or fell from the top of a mountain, or something-"

You let go, letting her rest her weight against your thigh. "Honestly? Would serve her right. A little cold, a little damp-"

"If you don't take that back-"

"Alright. Alright. I'll send an apology prayer when I get around to it."

"No you won't." She curls in further, and you stroke her neck, shoulder blade; down the ridges of her spine, across the width of her back.

Tzuyu shudders slightly under your touch.

"Haven't I earned enough good faith, or a clean conscience?"

"Sir, don't pretend."

"Let's pray for Sana, then," you mutter. "Wherever the fuck she is."

"With respect," Tzuyu pipes up, eager: "bitch ain't found."

"Jesus.” You laugh out loud. “At least your brain isn't fully turned to mush, yeah?"

"Give yourself some credit. I can hardly fucking walk. You really pounded the feeling in my legs away."

"Too bad."

"Sorry." And she noses at your collarbone, tugging the waistband of your boxers; "feel free," the drawl of an old, forgotten song, "to make me repent. Baby. Do your thing."

"Right, I forgot that I could convince you to do anything by sliding my dick in your throat. Yikes."

"Baby, just, uh- do whatever." Tzuyu grabs hold of your cock through the thin fabric: one light tap of a finger, "my lips are numb," the suggestion. You really could be her everything: and maybe if you said, stop, please, you won't. She'd pause; look at you like you're insane and maybe spit out what the actual fuck is wrong with you. Like the reality:

This doesn't have to end, no?

"Sorry about your phone battery," you tell her, brushing out the knot at the base of her skull. She exhales, goes soft; lets you tug lightly. "We’ll figure things out when Sana can actually text you, okay?"

"Dumbass. When it's warmer and you drive down to meet her."

"You're not jealous," you tell her. You’ve decided for her.

Tzuyu rolls, leans down on her back, smiling prettily-

"Nope," she agrees, pulling your cock out: already hard, ready to cum down her throat. Her fingers pump soft, slow, the anticipation- "just not done."

"Crazy."

She shrugs and lets the silence calm the world around the two of you; at least for a little while. "Takes a certain kind," she agrees.

"Permissiveness. Like what I'm seeing. Your brand or whatever."

"It’s straight from the heart." She shoots up, making a face you want to kiss. "Honestly."

"Absolutely sincere," you deadpan, and she ignores the jab.

"Tie a bow with my hair," she chuckles, the laughter light, and your fingers graze her temple. "Come on. I'll make you so proud. So pleased. Sir. Let me, let me-"

"Only if I can finish down your throat," you retort - half-joking, but, her eyes grow warm, molten, the lust is immediate - you tip her head, lower it gently - she bites down onto her lip, nods a bit.

You don't take her right away. Not at first. You’re trying to show some restraint, trying not to think about how Tzuyu wears clothes like a vice. She's that kind of girl. Like an accident waiting to happen. She's moving around the kitchen later, poking about the cabinets. She's slid into some jeans that fit her a little too well, and one of those obscenely thin t-shirts.

You watch her back muscles work, how the cotton bunches as she leans, arms extending. Her chest's flat against the counter to grab whatever item's out of her reach. You catch the ribbon in her hair bob slightly back into place when she stands back up. The hairline on the nape of her neck catches a long highlight of a morning, the thin strands a brilliant brown, a spark of warmth in the midst of a muted winter morning - and it's honestly amazing to look at.

(Her ass hangs out in the open like an invitation. Your eyes are running down every curve of denim like they can't help but search.)

"Tzu," is the warning, and she flashes a grin; turns, the expression shifting, wide. "I can literally see everything you have."

"Hm." The front of her shirt lowers, too - her black bralette, barely a scrap of lace and string, visible through the thin fabric. "If I'd known you'd like that so much, you could've told me earlier."

"It's not your job to figure me out."

"Well, I'm not sorry." The words are sugar sweet, with an almost fake concern: her feet pivot, her ass filling your vision- Tzuyu spreads her hands down her outer thighs.

"Be nice," you reiterate. "C'mere."

Her legs snap to you quick.

You are careful, tentative and slow. You leave the ribbon in place and everything; just your mouth, like you have a right to lick down her breasts, her stomach, her clit - like you deserve the faint marks where your hands pressed down onto her waist.

The slow licks, the soft kisses; you could eat her out until the sun sets and Tzuyu was left sobbing through the overstimulation. Her fingers rake your hair like it’s exactly what she’s hoping you’ll do.

When Tzuyu does let go: she doesn't drop. There is no shame, nor shameful whimpers. Instead, she fucking screams, so high and clear it doesn't seem possible: a singer's wail.

"Sir!" she's crying, you can feel it through every tremble. "Oh my god, please-"

You get her to climax twice before the tears fall, your fingers tracing her spine, pressing deeper, a knuckle, then two-

She looks at you in abject reverence, "God, you don't know," is the gasp, "how perfect you are," and you're sure. You'll never get it right again: at least, not without her.

She cums a third time, shivering, collapsing: her eyes wide, glossy, breath shallow, limbs giving in. The sweat clings to her like a lover, a life she doesn't know how to leave.

So, you ask:

"What now, doll?"

Her tongue sweeps the corner of her mouth, a tiny wrinkle.

"Whatever," Tzuyu exhales. "Fuck, whatever, seriously, that was like- amazing- but my throat is actually going to murder me."

"Was the screaming really that necessary."

"Not sure- about anything," is the groggy admission, "like, honestly. Too horny to care, but." She pauses for a second. "You," she finally decides.

"I," is the immediate reply.

"I’ll let you do - anything, but I- can I, like, get a breather? For a minute. Can you wait, like, just."

Her arms open: you settle against her side, and a shaky hand starts combing through your hair. Her other palm lifts to rest against your cheek, cupping it. The nails tap gently along your hairline.

"Been waiting so long, Tzu, honey," and it doesn't sound as cruel or glib as the slip up should be construed - doesn't even bother to count on forgiveness, either. Maybe you're beyond all of that, honestly, and more or less in love, as a result. It’s kind of fucked. What’s a minute more?

She laughs softly, a cough catching up and sounding pained. She's lost her voice, the poor thing, she’s cummed herself hoarse and ragged and you’re proud of your handiwork.

"Honey," you hear her say, and she shakes, pulls herself closer, kisses you back: like the old, gentle motion can ever fully cure the fever of desire that grips the two of you. It's a pipedream, and you're kissing her. It's a pipedream, and you know it.

The calls start coming in after the sun sets and the cabin grows cool with the dark: you feel, faintly, that it's inevitable. That the snow would clear and time would start marching on, a predetermined cycle. (That, maybe, something in the universe - at this stage, almost a hundred years of weather, tectonic plates, astronomical phenomena, interconnected - knew the two of you needed that bit of seclusion.)

"I dunno, just some bog-standard hotel, holiday suites or something. The point is: the roads don’t open until tomorrow and I've been holed up for a while." Sana sighs into the phone. The static pops. "Oh my god, I'm bored out of my mind. I've had like, three full bags of crisps in one sitting, which is just plain wrong."

"You're basically living off carbs." You say this from in front of the fireplace. Tzuyu is sitting on the opposite side of the couch paging through a stack of magazines, wearing a big jumper and sweats and socks pulled up to her knees. Her hair is falling around her shoulders in soft waves, and it makes her look small and domestic and a bit docile - she’d re-tied the ribbon in her hair after you’d fucked it off her, and that more or less completes the look.

"Yes, I have gone off the deep end. A tragic, awful spiral. Because you're not here. Fuck, you have no idea."

"Ah- Sana." You stop. Take a deep breath.

"Do you have any idea? The state of me right now? seriously. I packed so many fucking condoms and the idea of bringing them back home is more defeating than anything else." She lowers her tone a little, then adds, "because, not to be weird, I was kinda sorta hoping we might use them when I got up there."

You blink. Tzuyu isn't even pretending to look anywhere else. Her whole face is shifting into a satisfied expression, and when she catches you looking, she winks.

"Right. Now this might sound like a surprise," Sana is continuing, her voice full of amusement, "but when I get stuck somewhere, alone and thinking about the weather- I'm often in need of a fuck. Please be prepared to service, because god damn, I've got nothing and it's gonna have to be the battery."

"Is that Sana?" Tzuyu interrupts, the tone hushed, but lofty.

You make a face, like: who the fuck else - but that makes her smirk; Sana sighs, then laughs.

"So if you like, you know. If you feel like the vibe is there. I'd appreciate the hand out."

Tzuyu walks over: sets herself down between your feet and kisses your knee. Just to fuck with you. Because she wants to. She holds the kiss, the bow in her hair, done up tight and shiny, visible. You want to tug the stupid thing until it unravels; all your fingertips, her lips, and she sighs-

"Oi," Sana's saying on the line. You can hear her crash onto her bed. "You still there?"

"I'm sorry," you say, "are you uh, asking for phone sex - or did I totally read that all wrong."

"Nope. Pretty direct." Sana laughs, and the sound should make it easy to close your eyes, picturing it: a silver smile, the low slung skirt and a stretch of stockinged leg, the twinkle of a drink as the ice hits her mouth. It’d be easy, y'know, if your gaze wasn't pinned on the girl who's settled at your feet.

"Oh, jesus, okay," you manage to breathe. Tzuyu hums a little: reaches for your fly. "Is there anything, anything that you want me to do?"

Sana's laughter drops to a murmur: the air goes heady as Tzuyu parts the zipper and rolls down the waist of your pants- "ask me what I'm wearing, duh."

"Boring," Tzuyu breathes into the air. Because apparently Sana's defining trait is being loud. The kiss to your clothed cock is hot, teasing - her eyes never lift away, "always, always start with, 'darling, sweetheart,' or something stupid, sweet." Her tone is pure syrup: you can feel the warm, the wet; a fucking tease, all the way to her core.

"What are you wearing, darling?" you ask, dryly. Tzuyu rolls her eyes.

Sana's grin widens and you swear it's audible, "oh, just these boring pajamas." She draws it out slow and sexy and completely aware. "It's all loose cotton, and it doesn't hang off me, just folds."

"Is it the type that comes down to the mid-thigh? The white kind, where you can see through to the skin?"

"That's a little presumptive, don't you think? A bit on the nose? Yeah, fine, I'm wearing the kind, if you absolutely insist. These legs, bare. Maybe you'd want to bite. Y'know. Mark 'em'. Whatever."

Tzuyu is kissing the outline of your shaft. Pulling your hard-on out from its confines - all gentle and tentative. Her pretty brown eyes dart upward, gauging: okay, just do your thing - you shrug - but it'd be so helpful if you could scoot to the end of the cushion for me, can you-

"Yeah," you're agreeing into the phone, somewhat vague - to no one in particular. You don't give Tzuyu just an inch; instead, you lift your thighs toward her. Sliding, Tzuyu pulls your pants down: enough. There's a delicate pressure applied at the bottom of your cock, right at the base, right where Tzuyu drags her nails. "Let's have that show off a little," your breath comes shallow, "then. Strip, real slow. We can try for something sexy I guess."

"You," Tzuyu kisses the base and shuffles up the rest of your shaft, "just love bossing people around," then her lips part: the slightest graze, then warmth, the faint suction. “Don’t you?”

"Uh-huh," says Sana, and then the rustle of cloth: and you could imagine her, really, lifting the shirt up, off, sliding it along the inside of her ribs, over the tips of her breasts - she'd cup them, lean into the contact. Sana's hands are always on her tits, or the spread of her hips - she likes the shape of her body more than anyone else. "Sometimes, that's the best way," she tells you. Her breath is hot, full of sex. "Being told what to do. Isn't that true, hm?"

Tzuyu tilts forward, lets your cock drop over her bottom lip. It leaves a smear of spit in its wake, the sensation electric. Her head falls, swallows the whole of the tip: her tongue immediately swirls. A hot little pulse. Her cheeks hollow.

"Yeah. Some could probably argue," your breath catches, the weight of the sensation, the fullness, your hips arch, your spine straightens. The electricity goes through your stomach and down your spine; you can feel the wave rolling along. Tzuyu giggling into the stiff line of your cock-

"Telling us both?" Tzuyu smiles again, running her lips slowly up and down the sides, teasing with her breath and her fingers running down the ridges. "What you want." She hums low, into the hot air.

You press your phone to your neck. "Can you, like-

Tzuyu pulls her mouth off your cock. Just sits there blinking. “Hm?” she asks, tugging a strand of her hair from the corner of her mouth.

“Just please stay quiet, or something- this is already harder than I thought it would be," the joke is as unsubtle as they come, "jesus, okay-" and put the phone back to your ear, "shit, Sana- can you, like-"

Her fucking mouth. The seal, the press - the tongue swirling around your head. Fuck.

“Yeah, babe? What do you want to know?”

The words aren't coming and a very obvious swallow is, Tzuyu leaning closer, and her fingers tangle with yours - guiding you closer, guiding your hand to the ends of her hair.

"Explain," is somehow where you land, shaky. You stick the landing just enough that Sana might buy it. "What are you doing now?"

"Slow circles. On my nipples, pinching," her voice strains, then settles,"yeah, the tip's so sensitive. Jihyo was laughing that guys always obsess over her tits. Always wanna suck, or nibble and I'm like, girl, what the hell are you complaining for?" - Tzuyu inhales a huge breath, and then another: her lips, those eyes - open and glossy, every movement steady like she knows just how to make the wait worth it - "or, or maybe I'm just weird, because the first time I felt someone's teeth and their tongue. Fuck, like, I almost screamed. Or, cried. Literally."

"Hah," and Tzuyu brings her lips lower. Moves her hair gently out of the way to take the rest of you into her mouth: bobbing up, her lips puckering in some rhythm, and her tongue darts, swirls the edge of the cock. Tongue at the slit. The pressure. Fuck, your head falls back. Every breath sounds heavy, loud. "Fingers,” you huff, “are good too I'm sure. I’d be paying close attention. Making you feel good."

"Mhm." Sana agrees. "The little pinches, ugh, I could die happy if you did just that, it's that fucking amazing."

"Baby," you half-moan. You’re struggling. The mouth stops, then sinks: down, all the way. Fucking amazing. Fucking hell.

"Oh?" Sana laughs airly, "are you touching yourself, hm? No fair, are you going to leave me all lonely here-"

You can see that smirk. The fuckery that would come: Sana's version.

"Sir," Tzuyu mumbles, sounding muffled. Her mouth is a tight vise of warmth, and your hand threads through her hair again. You hold, tighten the ribbon a bit, and Tzuyu stares at you through half-lidded eyes: you don't think she'll blink until you make her cry, and by then-

“Fuck,” Sana says, totally flat, "I'm actually pretty wet," the emphasis, "so I'd like some real advice, y'know-"

You see her legs. The tops. The bottom, all the way down- and you inhale sharply, too much and too hard.

Tzuyu has her fist at the base of your cock and her palm is sliding down the slick flesh and, a moment later, up, meeting her mouth at the top of its stroke - and, without a goddamn care, she hollows her cheeks - puckers her lips along the surface.

You were right. "This is hell."

Sana hums a laugh. "Need me that bad, huh? We're missing each other by just a couple days."

You stroke the top of Tzuyu's hair, her bow bobbing in a nice little bounce. Sana would know better than to wear her hair up. To even go near this, her throat - you hold her jaw steady, maybe a second, the moment of recovery to make Tzuyu slow and careful: her tongue does a pass at the sensitive, rigid underside of the crown, the sudden movement - before she speeds up.

"Picturing your hand." She tells you in a languid tone.

"God," you half-say, half-moan, and Tzuyu is good. So fucking good, and the mouth is too damn eager and it's difficult to think.

You barely get your hand free to switch to speaker, then let it clatter to the side. Tzuyu grinning, her lips flushed red and wet and dragging over your cock, sliding down, her tongue doing another pass, swirling at the center, the flare-

"Thinking about you, actually, fuck," Sana has a hitch to her breath that wasn't quite there before. "Doing those things, that mouth all over, Jesus Christ - ah- my legs, my breasts, fuck- are you jerking off right now? You sound, well, pretty uh, yeah."

"Just saying," you breathe, as the shock and the sensations rise and fall; Tzuyu's edging you in her mouth, her own head starting to shake, her chin bobbing up and down the full, long line of your dick - she's never done anything by halves. "It's getting- I'm thinking about you, Sana, of course, and your- pretty cunt, god, of course, so- ah, close- you said you were wet?"

"Huh? Of course, dripping. Imagining you - your thick, your cock," Sana sorta giggles, out of it then-

Tzuyu moans. Her body is pliant and her shoulders roll; she sucks, her cheeks dip, her back arches, and all of the noises hit the air thick, all while Sana's voice sharpens - both girls, two. You're slipping off the cushion, and probably out of your mind. The ache builds and burns and yearns for some sort of release-

"-how wet and tight I would feel, after so fucking long. Please, fuck, fuck-" you hear Sana, "would you, fuck, c'mon, how I would look, on top of you? Could feel- the stretch, your cock deep inside. The, fuck- friction."

There’s this beat, where it’s just Sana’s stiff breathing; you can picture her wrist between her thighs, the pump, the twist as her fingers run over and over again through the sound of her slick. You’re left wondering if she can hear too, the mouth trailing kisses along your balls, tongue gliding back up and swallowing your length whole.

“Mnph.” Tzu chokes down a little.

And you look down, you have to eventually - to see the steady stare. Tzuyu's brows pinched and her eyelashes fanning out over the hollowed curve of her cheekbones. Pretty, fuck. Beautiful. So sexy: she looks up, swallows you back, like a fucking slut. Her mouth, wet, messy, hot, and her body-

"Third finger, by the way," Sana strains, "'cause- fuck, my pussy - my tight little hole would be swallowing your cock so damn good."

"Mmm, fuck." You're reduced to your base instincts, pulling Tzuyu's hair, dragging her wet, velvety mouth onto your shaft - she follows willingly, no question of her pace slowing, but - more, and more, and you could probably cum in her mouth if her hands weren't clasped firmly over your thighs and you weren't brushing away the tears pricking the ends of Tzuyu's lashes- you won't tell. Not with your fingers. Fuck. Her nails bite at the skin of your bare legs. She looks angry, insistent. Choking.

Sana sounds just as out of sorts, out of breath, "you would feel so fucking good. Look so good. Let me have it- whatever I need, yeah?" And you think she's close: it's that keen edge, a faint, broken whine. She's never going to finish any way except- "would you, inside me? Y'know- make me cum, real full. God- are you close? Would you make a mess out of me? Of my pretty pussy?"

“Okay, holy fuck-" and the question barely even hits you.

Tzuyu is glaring now, shaking: she wants you to lose it, and she looks furious, holding her fingertips, her thumb on the base of your cock: a new pressure, a new feeling, a new pulse, a new high- she wants you to forget about Sana, maybe. What she sounds like, how she looks. Her legs wide, her bare, slicked skin on display. For you, yes. Fucking her until she- "uh, baby," and this time, your voice makes her smile, and her teeth drag. You wince. Her pupils are blown out, and there's a flush building in her chest. "Where are you?"

"Laying down. Flat- god. Where I'm always-" and you imagine a plane of soft, tanned, toned legs, her wide hips, "I'd, yeah, in a second. Pressure at my back- it would feel so fucking good, y’know, if you were here."

You have no doubt in your mind: Sana would be gorgeous. Even from the back, she'll be hotter, fuck, she always is, especially like that - and the movement of Tzuyu's fingers tightens against the straining, needy ache, and-

"Please, fuck, fuck- need to-"

"Would cum- a lot, that's it- over my back. Oh, yes, all over my back. My ass. Messy. fuck that's actually so good, jesus christ-" and then Sana lets out another soft keen and a shout - and it's so sweet and high-pitched and familiar, almost musical; she's cumming, hard. You're only a second, a third behind and-

Your balls draw tight and a coil in your stomach unfurls-

Tzuyu sees you, grins, your eyes trained on the pink of her mouth and her perfect, wet lips and the deep brown eyes - her dimpled cheek is the softest fucking thing - but the rest, her mouth, her wet heat: it's pure sensation. The tight vise of a throat swallowing, the taste on the flat of her tongue. You've got your cock shoved deep in her mouth, and you're not easy to take. Fucking Tzuyu's face, thrusting and the throbs of your cock pumping out a hot, heavy spill. More and more: sticky, filling, spreading out from the corners of her lips. Tzuyu gurgles, struggling - fuck, finally letting go with a weak pop, falling back, and the white mess runs hot over her mouth. Your release smeared across her lips, dripping off her jaw - fucking christ - her tongue, her eyelashes - a wild mess of fluid. It splatters against her pale skin - runs down the hollow of her throat to the edges of her chest. She has her fingers working fast still, a squelching tight fist: you cum all over the stupid, cutesy bow too. It's all you see, the only thing-

“Fuck,” Sana says, oblivious. “That’s good.”

-before your eyelids shutter close, a ringing in your ears and your heart racing; and, not far, another sigh, followed by the slide of your phone down the couch.

"Aw, you done already?" Sana says. Lazily. You can see the look on her face, probably rubbing her pussy and thinking about more - if there’s any two ways the girls compare, it’s this allergic reaction to anything like temperance or moderation. You need new friends, new lovers; this can’t last.

"Uh-huh." The back of your head digs into the couch cushions. Fuck. Sana. Phone. On speaker. Oh. Right. Shit. "But I was- mnph. Uhh." Your brain has lost a lot of blood. It's doing nothing. Nothing but losing blood. You wish it’d stop. “I’m here, Sana, talk to me.”

Sana giggles at that, delighted, "don't tell me you're in such bad shape I need to save you-"

"The uh," your voice slurs. Then you're pulling the phone to you, closer. Fuck. Yeah. You're an idiot. Your breath is heavy: "I could go for more, yeah, how’re you feeling?"

"So fucking tired." Her breathing sounds less ragged. A full breath. A pout: a poor me.

"Hmm." Tzuyu crawls onto you. Slides the fabric of your shirt between her palms, up and down your ribs. She pushes the sweater and tee away. Bares your stomach- then kisses there. Lower, and then rises, looking through her lashes. It's clear: a demand. She'll be insisting, pressing down on you, kissing, running her teeth along the edges of your shoulders, your neck. She’ll kiss you right now if you let her - until she sinks into a promise at the center of your body. Your back is arching off the leather from the sensitivity, and Tzuyu has her lips all over you - smiling when your hands tangle with the long strands of her hair.

She pauses. You drop a hand to Tzuyu's waist. Pinch.

"Ow-" she says, coming across slightly betrayed.

And, satisfied with the expression her face, the phone cradled between your chin, her lips warm over your ribs, her head tickling the edges of your jaw, you keep laughing, or you want to, but Tzuyu takes you between her thighs, lifts a little on your cock - her eyes widen: she's testing your flexibility. Trying to drag this out, trying for teasing. She’s good at that (a verifiable truth), but you’re you - you see right through it: she likes how it feels, the thickness and size of you. Tzuyu keeps sliding slowly down the full length, letting you fill her inch by inch - her slick heat feels unbearable.

“God,” she mutters, and she’s making the dreamiest expression - the blush in her cheeks, the eyelids hung low, the mouth slightly agape - she lifts up, then slams all the way to the base, flush. You grab anything you can to hold onto. Her legs. Her ass. Her thighs. Her jaw. That perfect little fucking waist.

She’s sublime. Your cock is bathing in her slick, the wet heat, the throbbing pulses - she's gasping in your lap, like she can’t believe how good you feel filling her cunt.

"Sana," you grit, "there's- nothing else in the world I'd rather do right now than shove my cock-”

“Ugh,” Sana sighs in agreement, in imaginary bliss. “In my little fucking pussy- you’re making me miss you, or something, jesus-”

You squeeze her thigh and her lips quirk, just barely, a challenge.

"Want put a nice thick load" - the hand on Tzuyu's hip brings her down in your lap, fucking up hard as her chest racks with breath - "in your slutty little cunt" - you fuck her faster, the sounds of flesh against flesh obscene - "fill up your pussy, princess. Would cum in it until" - and the last inch of your cock, filling Tzuyu’s cunt, you've no control - "you're a mess, you're dripping in it-"

Tzuyu's movements still. A pause. Her hips. Your own, and all the rest, every nerve in your body is on fire.

She moves with the most graceful slide, her wet lips gliding - gripping - up your cock. Then, down. The quiet. The lull. The pause before she does it again. She has cum all over her face, and she’ll kill you. You’ll let her.

"God. We'll have to get around to it," Sana finally tells you, dryly, "when this fucking snow clears. Say hi to Tzuyu for me won’t you?"

You're not a bad person.

(The reassurance that you aren’t - or don’t want to be? - is probably still not super convincing. There's some line drawn there, blurred, crossed, and thoroughly annihilated by your actions, you think, vaguely, but maybe it's better if no one sees, hears, finds out. The finer details matter a lot less at that point.)

You're like anybody else: you get desperate to hold onto something, somebody, even for just a moment. Sometimes you don’t even need a reason at all.

Tzuyu is stepping out of the shower, her head bobbing: it takes everything in you not to drag her back in there. She’d let you. She wouldn’t even complain.

You can hear the catch and the slide of a bath towel, the wisp of water hitting the bottoms of her feet and trailing, an exaggerated moan - a gesture, meant to entice, a suggestion: fuck her right back in the shower until her hair is plastered to her cheeks, and she's panting. Or the steam lifts her breasts in a gentle, humid press. That mouth on the tiles - sobbing.

“Tzu,” you call out, and she just continues humming some indifferent tune.

You pull a thick sweater over your head: it's gray wool, and it's all clean and good and new. When she wraps her arms around you, a deep inhale: a grin, then a shiver. She's naked and dripping everywhere, wet hair leaving a trail in its wake. She burrows her face in the folds of fabric at your spine - and if you turned, the slightest movement, the smooth line of her torso would be exposed, and your fingers could trace down her belly button, the tips dipping between her legs-

The window is fogging at the bottom, the steam slipping out in tendrils - but the heat can't compete against the girl all wet and dripping, and it does nothing but give way to the cold, seeping in.

"I still think it's funny," she says, all matter of fact. "It's weird that this isn't awkward."

“What’s that?”

She's at the doorway.

“Us. Being here.”

You turn, and Tzuyu pulls at your sweater: looking for attention, always seeking out the easy praise. Her hand automatically slides beneath the cloth of your collar, drawing your jaw up for a short, hard kiss.

"Okay," and there's a small nod, the line of her throat pulsing as she breathes, "yeah," her chest rising and falling.

"Look at you,” you tell her. “All dry and tidy. Cute. "

A dumb comment earns you the tiniest smile, then she's leaning back, taking her hands to her hair and wringing out the water, pulling and tugging at the tangles - the towel wraps around her waist again and again, and she looks good, clean: it makes you think of what comes later. Not having to give a fuck - at least not for a little while.

"Jeez," she's shivering, still, and rubbing the tops of her arms, "and Sana is gonna be, like, all over you once she gets the chance. Wants a nice lay too, from the sound of it. Was being honest about that. Seems pretty pent up."

“Maybe you can help,” you offer, a bit flippant. She smiles - but in all seriousness, it’s a resounding: no.

There's something else, too, as she runs her fingertips, absently, through her hair - it falls flat on her neck and around her bare shoulders, dark against the lightness of her skin, but somehow you get the impression that she's not entirely preoccupied. "Y'know, I had a really good time and all, but I'm not the homewrecker type, yeah - it's not worth the stress," a slight shrug, like she isn't certain, her mind a little more tangled than usual, and for good reason, too, "probably won't hook up ever again."

"Gloomy," you tease.

"Don’t act like you're not going to miss it," she says, conspiratorial - and Tzuyu plants herself where you can feel her in your space - but she doesn't press. "Even when you're keeping busy, you'll have the smallest reminder, like - aha, Tzuyu would've really liked this, or that - when, y'know - you're stuck somewhere, thinking about the weather," and her cheeks are heating with color as her tongue forms the syllables - and the meaning is clear now as it always was.

“Even if you’re like, totally smitten, or whatever with her,” she adds, smirking.

"Sana will be back to her usual antics in no time. Being annoying and forward and whatever," you reply. "Won't miss much."

The girl's expression flickers a little - a slight twitch - but otherwise, a flat look.

She fixes the lay of her towel across her wide hips. You reach for her arm: pull at it, pulling her toward.

"I mean- Sana and I have a few things in common, anyway. Something in common. Can both be a spoilsport. Dull. Can be a bit, uh, territorial, if you you know-"

The rest is cut off, the words running into a kiss, deep and desperate; there's no place like her mouth: soft, eager, hot.

"And our usual antics?" she asks.

She leans into you, the chill starting to set, a fire burning nearby: something clandestine that maybe shouldn't last as long as it does. A log settling against the others, another plume of heat, and you say, a touch solemn,

"Dunno if we've ever been in common about anything, babe."

"Jeez. You don't have to spell it out like that, do you?" Tzuyu laughs lightly, holding the bath towel at her hips - her breasts are bare. They fall without support, her nipples, the slope of her ribs, everything. "I mean, how cruel."

(It isn't really. Because, here's the thing. In the grand scheme of things, Chou Tzuyu was never really supposed to happen at all.)

The snow clears, like all things you suppose, slowly and with a sigh: with the change in winds and a promise for a gradual spring. Tzuyu steals a shirt. Doesn't seem inclined to return it, says she's good at letting her imagination do half the work in lieu of the actual sex. (The nip is like a sting: it'll last longer, apparently. The bruising at the edges of her waist is more abstract.)

You’re in the driveway. Tzuyu’s leaning back on her luggage.

She kisses you like she wants to make you lose something: her lipstick, her mind, her heart or soul. And when her arms slide, her mouth parting - her tongue darting and sweeping, taking - Tzuyu knows a good many things about herself. She knows you, too. What makes her wet, what gets her off. What part of you will always come back to her. But her hair falls heavy: so much silk. She's laughing - a grin and she's licking the pink right off her teeth and she's beautiful and you think you'll want this always:

A girl like her, kissing so eager for you-

"You can totally say it first," she tells you, that mouth at the edge of your ear.

"Um," you say, and she settles down a little further, her wrists locked behind your neck. "You are so: clingy."

The look she gives you is adorable. All dimple, no worry. “Yeah, so?”

“How is that fair?”

"I don't really care if it is or isn’t. We’d be good together - and that’s a fact. So say something good, or I'm getting in that cab right now."

So you do. You do. The first word, the syllable, the way you ask her, the sound that is something like: mine, and the way it dries the edge of your throat; you kiss it away and she giggles because maybe this means, after a while, you really are as terrible as she always hoped.

She'll give you everything. She says, yours, and it would always be you; she halts a bit, and says it like she’s thawing a revelation, one that’s been there since the start - says she loves you and she always has. You laugh and she says it again: always.

Sana ends up standing in the cabin a day later. The same place you stood, watching Tzuyu lick yogurt off her spoon. Her coat looks expensive. There's her purse. The boots. That red-painted mouth. Her eyes are fixed, and she sees nothing out of the ordinary. Which is probably, you think, ideal.

"That's funny," her face betrays nothing.

The cabin smells a little like burning wood, vaguely: peppermint tea. An electric kind of heat and the warmth of the sun. It had smelled like evidence prior, the way a girl gets with her underwear missing, hair a tangled mess, body sore and aching, a wet bed. You'd looked like a pair of kids caught in a terrible storm, a lovers' quarrel in a small space - or, just: well-fucked.

"What's funny?" is how you finally manage.

"I just mean," she starts again, "she used to have like. The craziest crush on you. It would’ve been cute if it wasn't sorta sad. Did you know? You couldn't, I guess." She shrugs: a heavy lift of her shoulders, a release. The tension is leaking everywhere. "Must've been torture for her to get stuck here with you."

"Huh," you say, like you were missing something, which is exactly the wrong tone and definitely the wrong sentiment. “Oh, the crush. That. Sure.” You’re suppressing a smile. “Torture, yeah. Hey. Don't worry about it. I’m sure we’ll be fine."

(You can’t stop running it back through your head, her long dark hair disappearing into the cab. She loves you and you love her, and it’s got this beautiful caveat of being something simple-complex. Like, who would ever believe any of this? Like, who else even matters?

You say, you belong to me, and she agrees without even thinking.

“You always knew, though. From the start, you always did. I was never going to be anyone else's," and then she pouts. "Wouldn’t hurt telling me, from time to time."

And the mountains have a way of feeling like the end, sounding like the closing score, the credits - you look out at the white caps and reflect: maybe you shouldn’t have let her go. Maybe you should chase after her. Maybe you could still make it work. Maybe you should consider that a promise.

You look up at the sky, the pale blue - and maybe you can afford to let her go.

You know you’ll only find your way back.)

#tzuyu smut #twice smut #tzuyu #twice tzuyu smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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kishuplanet · 1 year

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#Dilmah #green tea #single origin

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 3 months

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pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: Wanda can’t keep her eyes - or hands - off of you. She has her way with you, and you’re just happy to let your long-time crush ravish you.

content warnings: smut, cunnilingus, fingering, slight possessiveness, slight overstimulation

word count: 4k+

masterlist

Original Request

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Not My Fault

A warm glow of light spills out from the kitchen, and you rub your bleary eyes as you make your way towards it. Your book is clutched in your hand, one finger holding your spot as you follow the source of light, and the delicious smell of freshly brewed tea. The pads of your feet tread softly, protected by thick wool socks that ensure your steps are virtually silent as you wonder who else would possibly be awake at the late hour.

“Oh,” You stop, taking in the sight before you. The first thing you notice is red hair, cascading down like a waterfall, curled slightly over a slender shoulder. Wanda has her back turned towards you, one hand with multiple silver rings twisting in the air as her magic pours a cup of tea, a single scarlet wisp bringing sugar over and spooning some in.

Leaning against the doorframe, you smile as you admire your best friend. You had grown close with the witch ever since she arrived at the Avengers compound, and were happy to see her improvement with control over her magic. It had taken a while, but you were glad that Wanda felt comfortable enough to show such common displays of power. In the kitchen, too, her happy place.

Green eyes meet yours, and Wanda freezes in surprise. Her scarlet magic hovers with uncertainty in the air, sugar sprinkling a light dusting onto the countertop before she recovers. You tell yourself that you imagine the way her eyes rake down your form, and fight the urge to cover yourself up as you step into the kitchen.

“Don’t mind me,” You say, a smirk on your face at the way Wanda blushes slightly. “I was just up reading.”

Holding up the book briefly as if to further prove your words, you let it drop onto the counter. Curious eyes peer at it, before quickly returning to you as you step closer. Leaning on the space next to Wanda, you ask, “What are you doing up so late?”

Ducking her head, Wanda gingerly takes her cup of tea. “I… couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh?” You ask, gently prodding for more information, but receiving no answer. This time, you don’t have to imagine the way her eyes travel up your bare legs, lingering on your sleep shorts as they slide up further when you cross your legs.

Deciding to test a theory, and hoping your unrequited crush might be slightly reciprocated, you lean over. From this angle, Wanda has a direct view down the front of your tank top. Her eyes widen slightly, taking in the bare sides and tops of your breasts before coughing awkwardly and sipping her tea. Her eyes remain steadfastly on the steaming liquid before her, and you wonder if she’s burning her tongue.

“Could you pour me some?” You ask, innuendo slipping between your words, “I’m quite thirsty.”

Green eyes snap to yours, and she sets her mug down on the counter. Instead of making a move towards the teapot, Wanda carefully moves to stand in front of you, as if to give you a chance to escape. You don’t take it.

You turn as she moves, your back pressed against the counter and you raise an eyebrow. Wanad stares right back, fingers trembling slightly as she places them on either side of you, trapping you effectively against the counter. Her face is close to yours, and you can smell her vanilla perfume washing over you and the slight scent of tea as she exhales softly.

“You look…” Trailing off, Wanda seems to steel herself. You mentally applaud her, urging her to continue, even if it's only with your eyes.

Wanda presses her lips together, biting her bottom lip briefly before saying, “I want to fuck you so badly, it’s keeping me up at night.” She gestures towards her cup of tea on the counter. “As you can see.”

Her candor takes you off guard, and you can only blink at her in surprise. She takes your silence as a sign to continue.

“I mean…” Her eyes rake down your thin tank top, pausing at your slightly pebbled nipples before continuing their hot trail down your toned legs. You feel goosebumps rise, feeling frozen in place as your best friend appraises you.

“Just look at you,” One of her hands moves to rest on your hip, pressing you further against the counter as she leans her body against yours. The heat of her skin against yours sends a wave of arousal through you. “Dressed in skimpy clothes for anyone to see, it's almost like you want me to have my way with you.”

“I only dress this way around you.” You blurt out, not wanting her to presume that you always dress this scantily.

Wanda raises her eyebrows, a pleased smile rolling across her face as she strokes your hip. “Good,” She says, her tone mild even as relief flows through her. You watch her eyes soften, her walls lowering slightly as she appraises you.

“Now,” Her face grew slightly serious, and you strained your ears as her soft words began flowing. “I’m going to fuck you, either here in the bedroom, I don’t care which one. You have five seconds to decide.”

You barely process the words before she holds up her hand and starts silently counting down from five. Panicking, your mouth gapes for a second before you whisper, “Bedroom.”

A wide smirk makes its way onto her face, and your knees suddenly feel weak. It’s not like she’s never smiled at you before, she’s your best friend, of course she smiles around you. But this time, it's different. This smile is paired with hungry eyes and twitching fingers, her lips far too kissable for you to concentrate.

“Good choice,” Wanda whispers, moving her lips close to your ear. You don’t even try to hide the shiver that runs down your spine at the action. “Start walking.”

The commanding tone sends another shiver down your spine, leaving a pleasant tingle at your core. You know that your eyes are wide, lips parted slightly as you look at Wanda with a mixture of slight shock and awe. Her ever-watchful green eyes notice, and her smirk widens as she slowly moves to the side, gesturing for you to pass.

You hope that your steps are confident, measured even, but you know that’s only false hope as you stumble slightly on your way out of the kitchen. Mind racing, you make your way towards your bedroom.

Wanda liked you back? I mean, you knew she liked women… but she specifically liked you? Your best friend, who you’d been hopelessly in love with for what seemed like forever… wanted you.

You considered slapping yourself, convinced that you were dreaming. Yes! That was it, you had stayed up too late reading your book, and now you were in some sort of horny dream. You’d wake up tomorrow and blush at Wanda across the table, and she’d be none the wiser.

The door to your bedroom opened, light from the hallway spilling across your plush carpet as Wanda stepped inside. She shut the door softly behind her, green eyes peering at you through the dim lighting, and your heart jolted.

It wasn’t a dream. You weren’t sure what to do, your hands seeming too clumsy at the moment. Your tongue felt weighted down with lead, lips parted as you just stared at Wanda. Standing awkwardly near the center of your bedroom, you felt your heart race as Wanda held out her hand, silently ushering you toward her.

With shaky footsteps, you managed to cross the room, your eyes questioning as you stepped up to Wanda. She was lingering by the door, and as soon as you were within arms reach, she grabbed you by the waist and spun you around.

A surprised gasp left your lips as your back hit the wall. Wanda’s body pressed flush against you, warmth spreading from your thighs up to your chest as she trapped you against the wall. Not that you were complaining, this was the best moment of your life.

“Can I kiss you?” Wanda’s voice was soft, only a hint of uncertainty woven into her words, and you raised your hands to cradle her cheeks. Fingers gently stroking over her soft skin, you smiled when she nuzzled against your palm slightly, her breaths biting your cheeks as you flushed.

“Of course you can,” The words were murmured, your eyes focused on her lips as her hands tightened over your waist.

“Good, because I’m going to kiss you a lot from now on,” Wanda says, and you don’t have any time to process her words before her lips are pressed against yours.

There are no words to describe what kissing Wanda Maximoff felt like. Time suspended its relentless march, and it felt as though the world had dissolved under the soft touch of her lips moving against yours. You could practically hear your heart singing out, symphonies rising like a never-ending crash of waves as the heat of her lips spread through you.

A soft, probing tongue ran along your bottom lip, and you let out a moan. Wanda eagerly swallowed it, delighting in the way your lips parted for her. Her thigh slipped between your legs, pressing deliciously against your core as you gasped.

Your tongues danced together, and it felt so good that you didn’t have time to overthink your actions. You were simply doing what felt good, and everything with Wanda felt good. The kiss grew slightly sloppy, your lips parting further as you panted, arousal shooting through you as you ground down against Wanda’s thigh.

Insistent fingers pulled at the hem of your tank top, briefly sliding under the thin material to splay over your stomach. You mentally thanked Natasha for the daily reminders to hit the gym when Wanda moaned at the feeling of your abs.

“Can I take this off?” Wanda asked, and you almost laughed. If it weren’t for her body pressing you against your wall, you would have already stripped yourself of all clothing at this point.

“Yes, Wanda. You can do anything you like,” Your words spurred her on, a wide smile flashing at you before your tank top was pulled smoothly over your head and tossed somewhere on the floor.

Something shifted as soon as Wanda had pulled that first item of clothing off. Her pupils dilated, her hands scraping down your sides and grabbing your breasts roughly as she reattached her lips to yours. This time, she had no qualms about sinking her teeth into your bottom lip, and you couldn’t help but moan.

It was like something had taken over your best friend, her movements frenzied as she slipped her fingers under the waistband of your sleep shorts. You weren’t too concerned, happy to keep kissing her as your fingers wove themselves into her beautiful red hair.

Beautiful. Of course, that would be the only word you could describe Wanda as. She truly was, with her soft smiles and gentle touches. Evidently, her touch could also send fire coursing through your veins, her fingers rough as they pressed you tightly against the wall. You absolutely loved it.

Your shorts quickly joined your discarded tank top on the floor, Wanda’s fingers skating around your underwear. You took the chance to pull at her shirt instead, your lips detaching briefly as you gazed at her.

“Take it off,” Wanda mumbled, her lips glistening. “Take it all off.”

Not willing to disobey a direct order, you gladly peel her shirt off. Wanda blushes under the force of your stare, your eyes widening as you take in her smooth skin and perfect chest. Her bra cups her breasts gently, and you’re suddenly jealous of the firm fabric, wishing it was your hands holding her instead.

Quick fingers unclasp her bra, the item falling to the floor as you fulfill your wish, hands cupping her breasts as a smile spreads across your face. Wanda moans as your thumbs brush over her nipples, the pebbled nubs already achingly hard as she arches her back, pressing her chest further against your touch.

“You’re beautiful,” Your words flow like a prayer, filling the space between you two as Wanda stares at you.

“I…” She can’t find the right words to respond, tears springing into her eyes as she lets her mouth crash against yours. Her own fingers pull her sweatpants down, kicking them off as she continues to ravish your mouth with her impossibly soft lips.

The hands around your waist no longer tremble, instead confident with their movements as Wanda slowly spins you away from the wall. She presses against you still, each of you taking small steps until the backs of your legs hit the bed.

A firm hand against your sternum pushes you backward, and you sit down heavily as your lips part from hers. Her eyes are dark and piercing, the air feeling heavy around you as you tremble slightly underneath her gaze.

Your hands make their way to her thighs, pulling her onto your lap as you marvel at her soft skin. You’ve been dreaming of running your hands along her body for months now, and you can’t quite believe that Wanda is letting you.

A small gasp leaves Wanda’s mouth, the warm air hitting your parted lips as she slots herself perfectly onto your lap. Your hands aren’t rough, but they’re not gentle either as you pull her with you toward the center of the bed. Soft yet insistent lips return to yours as you let yourself be slowly pushed down into the mattress.

“Is this okay?” Wanda asks, her voice low. Her hands are stroking your breasts, thumbs flicking gently across your hard nipples. You can feel her damp underwear against your pelvis as she straddles you, and can’t help the way your hips roll against her.

“Yes, it's more than okay. Please don’t stop.” At your words, Wanda’s hips grind down slightly, smearing her arousal onto your skin, and you let out a low moan as your breaths become slightly shaky.

It’s everything you’ve been dreaming of, better even. You don’t ever want this moment to stop, especially when Wanda leans down and starts kissing you again. Yeah, you hope this moment never ends.

It ends, and you try not to cry.

Wanda sits up, her lips swollen and eyes bright. Your fingers tighten on her thighs, urging her hips to move, wanting to see those perfect lips fall open as she loses herself in pleasure. She just smirks at you, a single eyebrow raising and letting you know that she is aware of what game you’re playing.

“Patience, darling.” The words are teasing, and you sigh. Your eyes don’t leave her form, skating over her nude chest as your mouth fills with saliva. The urge to taste her skin wells up, and you lick your lips as your eyes zero in on her nipples.

Movement distracts you, Wanda’s fingers coming into focus as you shift your attention. She’s taking off her rings, slowly, and you nearly cum from the sight. Her green eyes are boring into yours, a predatory look in them as she plucks her delicate rings off one by one.

Her fingers are bare, the rings resting innocently in the palm of her hand, and you feel a wave of anticipation rise within you. Wanda leans forward, her breasts tantalizingly close to your mouth as she sets the rings down on the bedside table. They clink lightly together as they hit the hardwood, the sound jarring you as you crane your neck toward her.

Just before your lips can rest against her smooth skin, Wanda leans back again, a chuckle erupting from her at the stricken look on your face. Her fingers reach up and pull her hair back into a ponytail, her sharp features looking soft in the dim lighting of your room.

“Just relax,” She advises, and you want to protest when she moves her weight off of you. Any words threatening to escape are quickly silenced when she kneels between your legs, her hands pushing them open.

“Fuck,” You manage, the word spilling out as soon as Wanda’s tongue makes contact with your dripping core. It’s curious, yet deliberate as she explores your drenched folds and expertly avoids your protruding clit.

Strong hands hold your squirming hips down, and you try not to moan too loudly as you feel yourself grow more desperate. She’s purposefully avoiding your clit, denying you any true pleasure as she collects your juices on her tongue eagerly.

Placing a tentative hand on her head, fingers playing with her ponytail, you wait until her green eyes meet yours. She looks up, and you nearly cum from the sight alone. Her eyes meet yours, tongue buried in your pussy as she smirks slightly. You tug slightly on her hair, asking a silent question.

Nodding, Wanda smiles wider as your hand wraps fully around her ponytail, pulling her face flush against you. Your hips rut up, seeking that delicious pressure against your clit, and you finally feel her lips wrap around it.

Wanda’s cheeks hollow, and you feel her suck your aching clit into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around it, and your back arches off the mattress as you feel the first tendrils of your orgasm race toward the surface.

There’s a high-pitched whining sound, and it takes you a moment to realize that it’s you. Wanda looks immensely pleased, happily sucking and licking your throbbing clit as you hold her against you. Your face is flushed, legs trembling around her as you grind yourself against her talented mouth.

With a few more strokes of her talented tongue, your clit throbs violently as a deep, aching pressure makes its way through you. Wanda can feel your cum spilling out, and she eagerly laps it up as you pant and moan above her. Your fingers have a vice-like grip on her hair, and she can’t help but feel her own arousal climb at the sensation.

Your hands start pushing her away, the pleasure quickly becoming overstimulating. Wanda practically growls, her hands capturing your wrists and she leans over your still trembling body. Pressing them above your head, she kisses you deeply, and you moan at the taste of your own arousal coating her lips.

“We’re not done until I say we’re done,” There’s an air of finality in her tone, and you bite your lip to stop any arguments from escaping. She continues, mumbling against your inner thigh while she waits for you to calm down slightly, “I’ve waited far too long for this to be over so soon.”

You let out a moan at her words, silently agreeing with her. Probing fingers make their way towards your swollen pussy, gathering your slick juices before Wanda brings them to your mouth. Your arousal is still warm, coating your lips before you slowly part them.

Wanda’s fingers are heavy against your tongue, and you start sucking automatically. Her other hand disappears between your thighs, fingers sliding along your slit and gently rubbing your clit. Green eyes are locked on her fingers as she begins pumping them in and out of your mouth.

“God,” Her voice is low, a raspy tone intermingling with her slight accent. “You look so pretty with my fingers in your mouth, sweetheart.”

You moan again, not caring how pathetic the sound is, not when your best friend lights up as you suck her fingers harder.

“Oh, a praise kink.”

“Shut the fuck up,” You say, but there’s no venom behind your words, and they come out as a muffled, “Shmgh thm fmmph uhh.”

Wanda smirks, “Don’t be a brat.”

You try to protest, but suddenly her fingers shove even further into your mouth, and you focus on not gagging as you feel a single finger slip inside your wet pussy. It's the best thing you’ve ever felt and you immediately want to beg for more. But, it’s a bit hard to do that with fingers buried deep in your mouth.

Almost as if she’s reading your mind, Wanda slips another finger inside you, both of them knuckle deep in your pussy as she feels you clench desperately around her. It’s laughably easy to start thrusting, her fingers sliding in and out of you easily as wetness coats them.

Curling her fingers, Wanda feels your muscles tighten further when she presses against that spongy spot of pure pleasure deep inside you. Smiling, she fucks you faster, watching you droll around her fingers as your eyes roll back when she repeatedly hits your g-spot.

“Good girl, you’re taking me so well,” She delights in the choked moan that escapes you at her words, every fantasy of hers playing out as she fucks you dumb. Wanda had always wondered what you would sound like in the throes of ecstasy, and it was even more angelic than she imagined.

Her fingers curl again, and your entire body seems to seize up. Your fingers scrabble weakly against her forearm, one hand gripping the sheets with white knuckles as your second orgasm washes over you.

Wanda fucks you through it, slowing only briefly when the pleasure threatens to turn painful. Before long, you’re rolling your hips again as you attempt to grind down on her fingers, and Wanda can find it in herself to deny you.

She fucks you through another orgasm, before roughly pulling her fingers from your mouth and attaching her lips to your clit again. The dual pleasure of her fingers deep inside you while her tongue quickly flicks against your clit sends you straight into another orgasm before the first one is fully finished.

You lose count of how many orgasms Wanda gives you, pleasure ebbing and flowing through your body as her presence invades every corner of your consciousness. Her vanilla perfume clings to your damp skin, her green eyes piercing even when you close your own. Her lips, soft and incessant as her tongue never tires. Her teeth, marking your skin and claiming you as hers.

At one point, Wanda allows you to eat her out, your legs still trembling while she gently strokes your clit as your tongue eagerly laps up her leaking arousal. You wrap your arms around her thighs, holding her against you and drawing three orgasms from her while she shakes and gasps above you.

You’re rewarded with a passionate makeout session, her fingers bringing you to your final orgasm while her tongue thoroughly explores your mouth. Your lips tingle when you pull away, parted as the last tendrils of your pleasure are pulled through you.

Finally, you gently push Wanda’s hand away from the slick mess between your thighs, something in your eyes telling her that you’re truly finished.

“Wanda, I…” You trail off, not really knowing what to say, still catching your breath.

A chuckle sounds out, and Wanda nuzzles her face into your neck, inhaling deeply. She curls around you, breathing deeply as you hold her. “You don’t have to say anything, I know.”

“No,” You tilt her chin up, wanting to look her in her eyes. “I need you to understand something.”

A worried look appears in your best friend's eyes, and you curse yourself for your terrible wording. As she begins to pull away, you place your lips against hers, feeling Wanda sigh into your mouth as your hand pulls her back against you.

“I really like you,” The words are whispered against Wanda’s lips, her green eyes boring into yours. “I need you to know that I’m not just here for sex, as amazing as it is. I want something more with you. I want us to create something… meaningful.”

“I want that too, idiot,” Wanda shoves you playfully, “Don’t scare me like that again.”

You chuckle, too tired to formulate many more words. Wanda snuggles closer, her breaths evening out as she wraps an arm around your waist.

“Oh, fuck.” You say, and Wanda feels a vague sense of alarm shoot through her tired brain. She looks at you inquiringly, and you grin sheepishly down at her.

“The tea has gone cold.”

---

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talaok · 1 year

Text

A small bed

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Fem!reader Summary: During a cold night at Nevermore, you seek shelter in your friend's, Xavier, room, but as it turns out, sleeping on a single bed in two, is not as easy as it sounds. Warnings: SMUT (protected sex and oral sex- female receiving-) a/n: Let's play a game. Guess who's depressed and has done nothing other than "write" and watch Wednesday for the past few days? Please find the answer in the following text.

It was so cold in the room. Those stupid wooden thin walls never actually isolated the building from the cold. Funny how the headmaster seemed to have money to donate to the Mayor's campaign but none to invest in the infrastructure she herself was managing. The bedroom was way too large and the ceiling way too high for the mere thermostat to be enough to fight the cruel Jericho's cold. You could hear Edvin's low snoring coming from the opposite side of the room. You wondered how she did it, how she could fall asleep with this temperature. Maybe it had something to do with her nature, and if that was it, you wished for a moment to have been born a werewolf too. Able at least to close your eyes without the fear you'll freeze to death in your sleep keep you from doing so. you sighed. there was no way you were gonna do it. The alarm on the nightstand indicated the time. 3:46, plastered in red lightning, the only thing illuminating the room besides the sheer light coming from outside, the moon still emanating her immortal glow through the branches. The howling of the wind seemed almost sinister, as it infiltrated from the window. You gripped the blanket and wrapped it around yourself, sitting up on the bed. There had to be something you could do right? You intently thought about it, as the cold spread itself all over your body. They were no more blankets, so that was a no. there was hot tea in the kitchen, but that meant stepping outside, where the cause of your suffering had originated, not to mention you were still going to have to come back to this infernal room after, so that was another no. the gears in your brain were desperately operating, trying hard to find a solution, but it seemed the temperature had compromised also them, not just your body, which was now trembling, as the only one they could find was the first one you had thought of, but had deliberately discarded. It's not like it was a bad idea, he would have said yes, you knew. there was just something about it that didn't convince you, a feeling or, better even, a presentiment, that made you doubtful on whether it was a good idea either. But you didn't have time to think about it as you slipped through the door, glancing one last time, at that shadow-filled space.

The sound resonated through the whole corridor as your knuckles met the door's hardwood. Silence filled it just moments after. It's not like you were expecting a prompt reply, or one at all for that matter. Light footsteps echoed in your ears just before the doorknob turned. "Y/n?" Xavier whispered, his voice still hoarse and full of sleep. "I know, I'm sorry. can I come in?" He frowned, visibly confused "Uhh, sure" "Thanks" you immediately sneaked in. He closed the door and leaned on it, still incredibly perplexed. "Did-did something happen?" "No, nothing like that" You smiled "I just-" you bit your lip nervously as you looked up at him "I can't sleep in my room. It's too cold." "Oh" he exhaled relieved, calming you with him. "I didn't know where else to go. I'm sorry. I can go if you want" you said, realizing just now how crazy you must look. Showing up to his room at 4 in the morning trembling and without shoes on. "shit you're freezing" he noticed, immediately taking his bed's blanket and walking up to you. He was silent as he gently wrapped it around you, his hands remaining on your arms once you had gripped it. "Thanks" "don't worry." he shook his head. A sincere expression spread over his face, and you let yourself stare at it, loving the way he was doing the same. "so, can I stay here?" you asked again "Of course" he said, looking offended by the fact you even had to ask. He glanced at his bed, an eyebrow-raising itself "There's only one thing" he offered you an apologetic smile "There's only one bed. Rowan's old one doesn't have any blankets". You looked around. He was right. Only the single bed surrounded by drawing-filled walls seemed to be suitable to sleep in. Especially today. You laughed softly. It wasn't funny, well maybe just a bit, but most of all it was ironic. you had come here for shelter and the only one you had found was a very thin mattress you now had to share with someone else. You wouldn't have accepted if it wasn't for the fact that there was no other option. You definitely weren't going back to the hellhole you had just escaped from. "I think we can fit" "you sure?" "Well, we at least have to try" you said "If I go back to my room there's a 90 % chance that I'll die of hypothermia" "and we wouldn't want that" he chuckled, his thumbs stroking your arms through the cover. "no" you smiled "we definitely wouldn't". You liked looking at him, the moon illuminating only the left side of him, lightening his long amber hair to champagne ones. "all right then" he let his arms fall to his sides before indicating the way "Ladies first" "Why thank you, kind sir" you grinned as you went to the bed, laying down on it. It smelled of him. His scent was soaked in the sheets and in the pillow and you immersed yourself in it as you closed your eyes. You liked it. More than you should have, probably. "comfortable?" he asked, and you nodded sleepily as your eyes stayed shut. He laughed softly at how cute you looked, peacefully sleeping in his bed, and a weird feeling invaded his chest. He didn't pay attention to it as he walked towards you. You felt the bed creek and move as he climbed on it, laying just beside you. You hadn't really understood how small the bed was when you had looked at it before, but as you laid here, your two bodies glued together, you realized just how wrong your estimate had been. Silence filled the room again as he set the cover on you both. You were still shuddering, it seemed like the cold had made its way into you and had now little to no intention of ever leaving you. "You're still cold" he whispered, his hand finding your arm again, just to caress it kindly. His touch felt like fire on your frozen skin. You opened your eyes, finding his already on yours. You swallowed nervously at how close you were, a few inches was all that separated you. If you hadn't been best of friends this would have looked romantic, you thought. But you were, so there was nothing to think about. "mh-mh" you nodded. "can I-" he murmured as he turned to lay on his side "I can hug you" he bit his lip "if that's ok" "Y-yeah sure. I'd like that" you said shyly and he smiled "ok" He scooted closer to you and you turned to your side, just like he had, facing the wall. You admired the extremely detailed spider on the drawing in front of you as he put one of his arms around you, tightly holding onto your chest, pushing you against his, and the other under your head. His body was flat against yours, from head to toe following your body's position. You could feel every inch of his body, his hair brushing against your neck where his breath was giving you goosebumps, his chest moving up and down against your back, and his knees on the back of your legs. He was warm, and as much as you were grateful for the cold beginning to leave your body, you weren't thinking about it anymore. What you were thinking about, was his hand on your stomach, and your ass-well- your ass dangerously close to his crotch. You gulped, if you had been on the verge of falling asleep before, you doubted you were ever gonna do it now. You kept staring at the drawing as you let yourself melt into his touch, so gentle and yet so reassuring. It felt nice. More than nice actually. Your neck was starting to hurt and you readjusted yourself to get more comfortable, inadvertently moving closer to him, and well, grinding against his lap. A small groan, clearly not intended for you to be heard, left his throat. "sorry" you whispered, faintly "don't worry" his hoarse voice traveled to your ears, as he tightened his hug. Shit. There was a weight on your chest and a familiar feeling in your belly, and you preyed that you would have fallen asleep soon, zeroing out all the possible mistakes that you were afraid you couldn't stop yourself from making, and that right now were all you wanted to do. All the thoughts passing from your head were things you knew you would have regretted later, like what would have happened if you ground again against his crotch, or if you turned and leaned just a few inches over, meeting his lips with yours. They were all potential, doable possibilities, that you could have explored in a matter of seconds, but you couldn't, you shouldn't. You were just tired, that was it. Xavier was your friend, and friends don't kiss each other, even if they really really want to. "Y/n?" a soft whisper in your ear. "Hm" you hummed "are you sleeping?" You turned your neck around, now really inches from his face, from his nose, eyes, and stupidly pretty mouth. "no" you answered There was a moment of silence, as he inspected your whole face, his eyes traveling from your eyes to your mouth and then up again. You felt butterflies in your stomach. You had never understood that expression, but now, all of the sudden, it seemed to make a lot of sense. "are you feeling better?" "yes, thank you" He moved his hand from your belly and brought it up to your face "good" he murmured, as he stroked your cheek. You felt your cheeks turn a brighter shade of pink. "I-" your voice died in your throat, as you forgot what you wanted to say. "You're very pretty you know?" he kept caressing your face "I don't think I've ever told you before" he smiled "but you really are" shit. He was making it really hard not to want to explore the possibilities. "I- thank you" you murmured. He looked at you, seriously now, penetrating and studying you, like he was really seeing you for the first time. "Y/n" he murmured, his eyes blinking slowly. "Xavier" you whispered too, before he slowly leaned over, indecisively getting closer and closer to your lips. you looked at him as he reached them, pressing his mouth on yours, in a chaste kiss. you barely reciprocated, still shocked this was actually happening. He leaned away, his eyes moving between your mouth and your eyes, desperately trying to understand what you were thinking, while also desperately wanting to kiss you again, this time, like he really wanted to. You looked at him, his beautiful eyes always so confident, now looked so hesitant. It was a weird image, a new one. You smiled subtly as you leaned over and pressed your lips with his, this time better, harder and more passionately as his hand on your cheek traveled to your hair. He stroked your hair as he kissed you lovingly, his warm mouth on yours, as you both closed your eyes. It felt like floating, like flying on cotton candy clouds. You had never felt something like this. he smiled as he leaned away, and you couldn't help but do the same. "you're a good kisser" he murmured" better than I expected actually" you gasped, pretending to be mad " you expected me to be bad? " you asked, realizing just at that moment something "and what do you mean by expected?" "well" he moved a lock of your hair behind your ear "let's just say there have been times when I wondered about this" "have there?" you grinned "yes" he kissed you again quickly "there have been" " Good to know" you bit your lip "and by the way, you're a good kisser too" "Oh I know" he chuckled, retracting his hand from under your head to place it on your shoulder, his fingers trailing on it. "I'm good at a lot of things" he looked at you. A fire burned in his eyes. Your mouth opened slightly in surprise, and he kissed it uncaringly. His tongue infiltrated your lips as he forced your head together with his hand. You could taste him in your mouth, Xavier, all of him. from his toothpaste to the tip of the pencil he bit constantly. It was all there. "And do you want to show me those things you're so good at?" you said, surprising even yourself "pleeeease" he begged, desperation clear in his voice as he gripped your head one more time, kissing you hard and messily as he pushed you to lay down on the bed. He didn't waste any time as he got on top of you, peppering kisses all over your face, while his hands explored every inch of your body, leaving a trail of shivers with his touch. You whimpered as one of his hands found your breasts "We can stop if you want" "no. please no" He smiled "thank god" he lifted your shirt and sweater "I was just getting to the good part," he said, as he lifted it over your head with your help and shamelessly stared at your bare tits " fuck you're hot" he said bending down to spread kisses all over them while groping and caressing them hungrily. "so" he started kissing down your belly "fucking" he trailed down under the covers "hot" he said, kissing your fully clothed pubis. You moaned softly at the hint of a touch he just gave you. You were desperate "please" as I said, desperate "patience my dear" he whispered sarcastically, as he hooked the hem of your pants under his fingers, toying with it. You whined softly "a virtue you clearly don't possess" he chuckled under his breath as he slowly took your pants off, finally freeing you. he bent down immediately between your thighs, looking up at you smugly. You met his gaze and bit your lip. This was crazy. You were friends and had been such for so long, and apparently, all it took was a very cold night and a much too small bed to make you forget about it, and for him to end up between your legs. Fuck, he looked pretty that way. He brought you back to reality as he bent down and kissed your clit, still looking at you. You moaned softly, and then he did it again, this time for longer, and your moan became louder and kept doing so until he was sucking your clit and you were screaming his name, your hands gripping his hair and the sheets mindlessly. Lost in the pleasure he was provoking you He was looking at you mesmerized as you threw your neck back, your eyes shutting close and your mouth open, those filthy sounds coming out of it. Xavier thought he had never heard something so beautiful in his life. "you taste so good y/n" he said, his words vibrating against your cunt, as his fingers came up to your pussy, slowly moving towards the entrance. You cried out as they entered you, Xavier pumping them in and out relentlessly. A very dirty sound echoed through the room as he kept doing that, not even your voice able to cover it, as he went back to sucking and licking all he could find. "xavier" you mumbled "s-shit" you tried to speak, but the pressure forming in your belly distracted you "I-I'm coming" you finally spat out, and he smiled against your cunt "then cum y/n, come all over me" he stopped just to resume again, even harsher than before. You felt a knot in your stomach and as he scissored his fingers inside of you again, hitting your g-spot perfectly, it broke down. Making you come undone, loudly moaning his name as you came down from your high. "shit" you sighed incredulously, as he came back up to your face, pressing his lips with yours once again, letting you taste yourself in his mouth. "you weren't joking when you said you were good" you giggled, and he smirked "I'm a man of my word" his hand found your side again "now" he looked at you "let me show you my full potential" he said, making you laugh giddily, exited for what was about to come. His hands left you momentarily as he took off his shirt and just moments after, his pants. You had never seen anyone undress that quickly. He leaned over you to reach into one of his nightstand's drawers, his hand reappearing with a tinfoil package between his fingers, the same ones that were inside of you moments before. You squeezed your thighs shut, just at the thought He looked down at your legs and smiled knowingly, as he slid the condom on his cock. You weren't nervous. It was weird, usually, you were always nervous at moment like this but you felt safe, and more than a bit turned on. "you're gonna have to open your legs y/n" he raised an eyebrow, and you tilted your head to the side, biting down a smile "and what if I don't?" he bent down over you "then I'm gonna have to open them for you" he ghosted your lips. you swallowed thickly. Fucking shitty shit. Hot. That was hot. You spread your legs and he smirked smugly " so obedient" he joked and you rolled your eyes. "look at me" he commanded as he positioned himself at your entrance "I want you to look at me when I'm inside you" Your mouth slaked open but you still nodded "use your words" "ok" you answered finally, and he looked at you proudly before slowly pushing himself into you. A series of stroked and interrupted moans escaped your mouth as he bottomed out, filling you up completely. You were doing as he requested, looking at him intently as your face contorted in all sorts of expressions. "you're perfect" he sighed faintly, as he placed his hand on your stomach, stroking it gently " so fucking perfect" he looked at you, making your heart miss a beat. his lips twitched up into a very thin smirk as he started moving in and out of you slowly, his veiny cock wrapped tightly around your walls. "feel so good " he groaned as he quickened his pace. One of your hands flew to his shoulder as you gripped it to bring him down to you. You wanted to feel him, all of him. And you did, as you hooked your arm beside his neck and reached up to kiss him desperately, leaving pointless little whines in his mouth as he kept thrusting into you. "shit Xavier" you cried out as he brought one of his hands down to circle your already overstimulated clit. "I know," he said without an ounce of real sorriness "just take it " he pecked your lips again "It'll be worth it" You were out of breath as you kept bouncing on his bed, your tits moving with you. his movements were fast and you were feeling so many things at once that you weren't sure you knew exactly where you were at the moment. The same knot from before was starting to form itself again. "you're coming" he said, through his panting, anticipating you. Some of his hair were stuck to his forehead, and his mouth was open, gasping for air in between his sporadical groans of pleasure. "mh-mh" you nodded desperately, your hips moving with his to get even more friction. "come baby" he murmured, the pet name echoing through your ears, and traveling straight down to your cunt "come for me" "oh god xavier" you had the time to murmur before a wave of pleasure overwhelmed you, a series of little fireworks exploding inside you as he kept moving, chasing his own orgasm while letting you ride yours out. "fuck" he growled as his thrusts got more sloppy "you feel- so f-fucking good" he groaned, before with one final push, he came, a series of profanities leaving his mouth before he collapsed on top of you, his head resting on your shoulder. You smiled as you realized what had just happened, and when he raised his head, you could see he was doing the same. "I think the bed was too small" you grinned "What makes you say that?" he laughed

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe fancfiction #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe fic #xavier thorpe wednesday #wednesday #smut #fluff #friends to lovers #xavier smut #xavier

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thethingswedotomorrow · 6 months

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Crowley has been with humanity since the beginning. The original serpent of eden, he is the first "monster" in humanity's bedtime stories. He is the figurative and literal demon on human's shoulders, always there to guide them one way or another. He's weaved through history itself, and prides himself on an impeccable track record of demonic activity throughout the last 6000 years.

But, naturally, after 6000 years, Crowley finds that he's spent more time pining after a certain Angel than doing any sort of work. Like, an extreme amount of pining.

And it isn't until after the notpocalypse that Crowley realizes that, entirely accidentally and very embarrassingly, he may have accidentally made his pining very, very public.

One of Crowley's favorite ways to waste a day is to take Aziraphale to different museums around the world and watch as the angel wanders around and points out all of the inaccuracies

"Good Lord Crowley, have you seen this painting? Portraying you as a dragon is a tad dramatic, I think. All we were doing were having a picnic. And I have never had my hair looking like that, thank you."

"I don't know Angel, they've got your wings spot on. Wa-Hang on, have they added horns to my head?"

"Oh, I see, suddenly it's only inaccurate when they've got you wrong."

The museums always seem to be miraculously empty, and whenever Crowley mentions this, Aziraphale suddenly finds a new, very interesting piece of art to admire

Crowley admires the lengths Aziraphale goes to to hide the small miracles he's done for Crowley's sake

As if Crowley wouldn't move literal mountains for the angel

*He did, actually, do that once.

In the 12th century, they were having a lovely evening together with multiple caskets of wine, up until Aziraphale complained about the amount of light in his eyes

"Honestly Crowley, all this sun and no shade, it must truly be awful for the humans around here with no shelter. It's a tad much, even for me."

Crowley, even then, immediately recognized this off-hand comment as an underhanded complaint, and knew that would not stand

When the small earthquake passed, Crowley claimed that the nearby church was on a fault line and he was simply doing his demonic duty by damaging holy goods in the area

If Aziraphale realized that the mountain range in the distance suddenly provided much more sun coverage, he never mentioned it.

Currently, however, Crowley follows Aziraphale around, wandering behind him and never truly looking at the things in the museum

In every single place they've ever gone together, there was only ever one thing that deserved Crowley's attention

And it certainly was not an inaccurate model of a 18th century tea set

But when Aziraphale wanders into a hall titled 'Love of the Past', he starts to panic. Just a very tiny amount, basically none at all. A small enough amount of panic that he could deny it, even to himself.

He thinks about the past, towards the beginning, back when Humanity was still getting it's footing and figuring out how to have governments and societies and (the most important part) figuring out the whole alcohol situation

Throughout the years, especially towards the beginning, Crowley began to resent any time not spent with Aziraphale

Everything seemed small and dull when compared to the way the Angel smiled when he saw new type of human dessert, or the way he laughed when Crowley managed to work out a clever comment

And once Crowley experienced those things, he never wanted anything else

He had seen the poetry the humans had written, how much emotion they could pour into a simple piece of parchment or a clay tablet

He never cared for written word, but he was shocked at just how much feeling the humans could manage to pour into words

So after Aziraphale left Rome (after the oysters and the wine and the smiles, for somebody's sake the smiles), he went due east for a new miracle on another continent

Crowley stayed and got well and truly drunk. As he did best.

He had spent a few weeks around the other drunks around the area, most poverty stricken and saddened with some sort of grief of one type or another

It wasn't until a group of poets wandered into his dark corner of the pub that he started to considered writing

Obviously nothing anyone would ever read, he'd ensure that. Every scroll or parchment that he'd touch with a quill would be burnt with hellfire before it left his sight

But, as many of his worst ideas started, he had nothing better to do and too much time to think

So he wrote. He wrote letters, first addressed to nobody, about random thoughts that would pop into his very intoxicated brain. Whether humans would ever find traces of the unicorns they lost on the ark, whether he would ever find a way to count just how many scales he had, whether he would ever reach a point where he didn't have to cover his eyes every day

Slowly, the letters started becoming addressed to 'A'. Whether he was conscious of this or not, he'd never admit.

But he wrote. He wrote to A about Hell, the jobs they required of him, the things they'd have him do. He wrote of the way humans had beaten him to the punch 90% of the time. How they would do things worse than Satan himself could imagine, and they'd never blink an eye while doing it.

He wrote of the way the sun darkened each day that passed without his Angel, the way his wine never seemed to have enough flavor when he was alone.

He wrote of the ways he imagined he could orchestrate an elaborate reunion, a convoluted mess of too much demonic activity in a small area that just happened to have a wonderful new tea, or so he's heard, and wouldn't it be a shame to leave the town without tempting the angel to try it?

He wrote to A about how he was sure he had no heart, no emotions. He was a Demon, for somebody's sake, he certainly had no need for stupid things like that, and so the ache in his corporation's chest when he sees the Angel had to be some sort of malfunction.

Anatural function, surely, that could be fixed with the right amount of aloofness and strong liquor

He wrote of the way the sun always seemed to hit the Angel's hair just right, and Crowley had no faith, he had no God.

But in those moments, with a halo around the angel and that smile aimed towards him, he might consider praying now to a different source altogether, a closer source. One full of life and light and actual proper goodness, not that fake advertised bullshit they plaster on church walls in pretty paintings and sad songs

Crowley wrote for a long while, and found that the writing helped the pain.

Even if only because it brought on memories of Aziraphale, and that was enough to hold him until they met again. It had to be, he had no choice in the matter.

And he wrote so often throughout the ages, and often while he was drunk. And he was so sure, so positive that he had burned every trace of his heart and emotion out of existence.

He had to be. The danger those words could put Aziraphale in was far too great. He couldn't be bothered to care of the danger to himself, but the fact that the very hint of any emotion could come close to hurting his Angel was enough to ensure that they would never come across another being's eyes.

He destroyed every letter and word that described his desire, his pain, his greed. He ripped the words he created out of reality as easily as he had written them. Every time, he burnt the parchment, and every time, it burnt a part of him with it.

And then the Apocalypse had happened. Or, well, didn't happen, he supposed. Really, he wasn't entirely sure if there was a difference.

Because everything had changed, even if the rest of the world hadn't noticed. And he was suddenly allowed to see Aziraphale with no excuse, no half-hearted reasoning behind it. He was allowed to want, and to crave, and he relished it.

And he was allowed to take the angel to museums to watch him fuss over small mistakes humanity had collected throughout the ages

Until he realized that they had, in fact, also collected HIS mistakes.

In a hall. A whole bloody hall. A hall, dedicated to and full of stupid parchment and sappy letters and wine stains over words written so long ago

And honestly who gave them the right? Leave it to the humans to collect other people's belongings and put it on display as their own

And he knew, from the moment Aziraphale read the first page on display, he just knew. This was it. All of it was ruined.

All because Crowley had gotten so drunk and passed out in his room above the pub, and when they'd thrown him out in a drunken stupor, they'd collected his belongings to sell afterwards. And he'd never even realized, so concerned about the next meeting, the arrangement, concerned about anything and everything except the one thing he forgot about and could end them both.

Any moment now, Aziraphale would look up at him, with disgust and confusion and all those emotions that he'd really rather not see on his face, preferably ever, but especially not towards him.

But Aziraphale never looks up. He reads the first page 5, 6, 7 times, being sure to capture every single word. Every wrinkle in the paper, every crease.

Then he moves to the next, and then the next. He repeats this process. Every page, he scours each and every page. Searching and scanning, analyzing every word.

Crowley is frozen at the entrance of the hall, too terrifed to say a word, but too hopeful to leave. He stands there, suddenly feeling the same feeling in his chest that he felt so many years ago, in the corner of the pub, sitting in the dark, wishing for the light that he knew would never come.

He's so panicked, that he doesn't notice Aziraphale finishing the last page, and wiping the tears from his eyes. He startles when he accidentally meets his eyes, and prepares a number of excuses and deflections, all to preserve this shred of peace and safety they had carved out for themselves.

"Angel, I- you really- ngk- humans are so rid- are you hungry? I could eat, I've heard they've got a killer bar around here, and we cou-I can get us there in 10 minutes, ngk actu- scratch that, we could be there in 5, I bet. Museums aren-angel?"

Crowley finds himself stopping the random stream of words coming out of his mouth, when he notices tears in Aziraphale's eyes

"Angel, I-"

That's all Crowley can get out before Aziraphale is walking towards him with a purpose

And suddenly Aziraphale is very close to him

Very very close

And suddenly Aziraphale's lips are on his, and Aziraphale is holding onto Crowley's jacket, and Crowley's hands are just waving in the air back and forth while he processes the last .5 seconds.

By the time he realizes what is actually happening, Aziraphale pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against Crowley's, and laughs.

He laughs. Laughs. Aziraphale is laughing and it's a wonderful, beautiful noise and Crowley doesn't quite understand why, but then he's laughing too and then they are both standing there, arms around each other, laughing and Crowley realizes now that all the words he's written, all the praises he sang of his Aziraphale, the way he wished and prayed for his heart and laugh and love

Not one bit of it is at all comparable to the real thing.

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kay-jaye · 2 months

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bit on the side?

crowley doesn’t know what the fuck that even means. ok, yes, he’s familiar with the deluge of terms humans have concocted to define the complexity of their relations to each other.

side piece. sneaky link. friends with benefits. fuck buddies. situationship.

crowley knows what it means. he does. but when nina speaks the phrase to him, crowley can’t seem to recognize a single language, alive or otherwise dead, in which the words she says make sense. he briefly wonders if this is his version of aziraphale’s french.

because she’s talking about aziraphale.

aziraphale, the angel. the angel who likes his tea without sugar, but his wine with company. the angel who claims to have a distaste for “bebop,” yet crowley has caught him mouthing the words to queen’s “good old-fashioned lover boy” more than once in the bentley. the angel (bastard) who enjoys subjecting crowley to his magic act antics that under no circumstances would crowley ever admit to finding amusing or, satan forbid, endearing. the angel who popped into paris during the reign of terror because he got peckish for crepes, and even the threat of guillotine in that damp bastille cell could not deter him from baked goods in the end. the angel who still insists on dragging crowley to see productions of shakespeare, despite both being present for the original opening nights of almost every play the man wrote. the angel who is what heaven is supposed to be incarnate—pure and kind and too good for his own good, really.

and crowley is a demon.

he doesn’t think any of the typical labels apply. they’re not human, after all; it couldn’t be that simple. crowley can’t pinpoint exactly when it started or when it changed. 6,000 years is a long history to comb through. it was more than the acquiescence of two immortal beings to the familiarity of each other in a world full of temporary creations. it was more than a bloody arrangement at this point. crowley doesn’t know how it can be more than whatever it means to inhabit the other’s body and walk right into fatal danger, but they are. he’s inclined to cut his losses and say he knew—because deep down, he did know—he’s been fucked since eden and the damn wall and the damn rain he can’t help but associate with revelation.

other people’s love lives, nina had said. love lives. she’s projecting, crowley knows that. whatever’s going on with her and…lydia? linda? they say love makes you blind, but crowley would argue you see plenty of things. every passing glance between sips of champagne; every smile at the crisp sarcasm rolling off a forked tongue; every brush of fingers over the exchange of a briefcase full of books, the shaky grip on a tartan thermos, the drunken grab for another glass of wine across the table. silly things. things that aren’t there. for all the times aziraphale has implored him to read more, crowley swallows the urge to say he already reads into things more than he should.

he’s imagined it before; what it would be like to have more. a fair share of people have made assumptions about them in the past, though he’s not sure whether aziraphale has picked up on it, but that’s not why crowley suddenly feels as though armageddon is upon them once again. never has someone alluded to anything as…intimate as “hooking up.” crowley can brush away the implication that they’re together, but something screeches to a burning halt the moment nina insinuates what crowley’s only ever allowed himself to think about when he’s laudanum-level drunk and lonely because he has a greater chance of not remembering in the morning.

he remembers though. that’s usually when the guilt kicks in, when he’s hungover because he forgot to miracle the alcohol out of his system before passing out, and the headache pulses with the constant reminder that aziraphale is pure, pure, PURE. nothing he imagines on those nights is pure.

what gave him away? and if nina can see it, can aziraphale?

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #i'm writing look at that

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maklodes · 3 months

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Me: So, while men are not blessed with immortality like elves, it’s said that their ability to die and go beyond the physical world is its own kind of gift. The stuff about Beren and Luthien kinda throws a wrench into this, since she could apparently stop being immortal as a full-blooded elf anyway, which makes it seem like the elves just get a better deal period, but regardless, most of the elves ultimately go to the blessed land of Valinor, which is in the far west, but removed from the circles of the world.

The Pure Land Buddhist in my head: The place in the far west is not quite the final escape, but as good as it gets while still being a sentient being. Right…

Me: Valinor is also the home of the Maiar and Valar, godlike beings. A renegade Vala, Melkor, is the overarching villain, but the main villain of the books is a renegade Maia loyal to Melkor (at least originally), Sauron. Anyway, Sauron put a lot of his power into a single artifact, a ring. This ring falls into the possession of the protagonists of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, and possession of the ring causes an obsessive attachment in whoever has it, and apparently allows them to live indefinitely, but it doesn’t bring them any real happiness or contentment.

The Pure Land Buddhist in my head: Okay, the circle/ring/wheel-shaped object keeps you miserably tethered to life and itself. The symbolism is a touch heavy-handed, but I can live with it.

Me: The author, John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, was a devout Catholic, and while not overtly allegorical in the fashion of his friend Clive Staples Lewis’s Narnia books, many see a great deal of Catholic influence in the Lord of the Rings mythos.

The Pure Land Buddhist in my head: (spitting out the tea he had coincidentally just started drinking) Catholic?

#lotr #buddhism #catholicism #my knowledge of both the LotR mythos and Pure Land Buddhism is limited so I hope this isn't too offensively inaccurate about either

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woodland-gremlin · 1 month

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Ghostly Parents AU

An AU where Jason was ghost adopted after he died. His resurrection caused his ghost parent a lot of grief. First their kid was brought back to life, having to dig out of his own grave which is extremely traumatic. Second he was kidnapped by a bunch of cultists. Thirdly, said cultist dumped him in contaminated ectoplasm, giving his ecto-posioning. Fourthly they tried to brainwash him and generally treat him horribly. To say that Jason's parent was furious was putting it mildly.

Now depending on the ghostly parent the methods to get him back and how they raise him differ. There is plenty of ghost parents to choose from. There is Frostbite, who would probably just show up and ignore everyone while he treats Jason for ecto-posioning. Depending on who they were he might heal others. He would also do something to the pits just because of how dangerous they are, unknowingly single handily wrecking the League by doing so.

Fright Knight would probably challenge Ras for kidnapping his son/squire, sending him to the nightmare dimension.

Ghost Writer would force the whole League into a book of Jason's choosing forever.

Pandora would charge and seize the League, forcing them to face Amazon justice.

And that is just how they would bring him back, raising him is a totally different matter. Frostbite is pretty chill, ha, but would insist on teaching him the basics of first aide. This could lead Jason to becoming a Doctor that Alfred always wanted in the family because of how well it feeds into his protection obsession. This also leads Jason to meet "The Great One" the yetis always talk about. Whether he joins the yetis in their religion like in one of @long-live-astronerd-ghost-king 's post ( https://www.tumblr.com/long-live-astronerd-ghost-king/742150810600947712?source=share ) or tease Danny about it relentlessly is up to you.

With Fright Knight he would be a squire to him. Jason easily settles into this role because it reminds him of what he did with Batman. All he really did was trade one Dark Knight for another. Like "Afterlife" by batling_out_of_hell on Ao3. Training might kick up a notch because of the kidnapping though. This is also how he meets Danny. Since he is training under Fright Knight who is Danny's knight, this leads to some romance of a knight and his king.

Ghost Writer and Jason would get along like house on fire. They often spend their days writing and reading. Ghost Writer also is very supportive of Jason getting to finish his education. He is not so supportive of Jason's relationship with Danny. He doesn't say anything because of how happy Danny makes Jason but he certainly does not like it, at least at first.

With Pandora he originally had a small fan girl moment because she's related to Wonder Woman! He gets along great with the other Greeks, sparring and having philosophical debates. He meets Danny when he comes for his weekly tea time with Pandora, who later coos about how great they look together.

#dcu #danny phantom #dcxdp #dp + dc #dp x dc crossover #jason todd #jason todd x danny fenton #frostbite #fright knight #ghost king danny #ghost writer #Pandora #danny fenton #dead on main #dead on main ship #Ghostly Parents AU

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dollfaceksj · 9 months

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the pink pill | jjk version (m) — “3 days”

➥ banner by: @jkndigo.

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ porn without plot ⋆ best friends

➥ CATEGORY: one-shot [part of the pink pill series]

➥ WARNINGS: unprotected sex (wrap it up!!!!), extremely horny!reader, missionary, cocky!jungkook, doggy style, cum-shot, creampie, crying, overstimulation, kissing, reader asks her bff jk for a favor, they’ve never had sex before(w each other), kissing w tongue, annoying friends, reader is dared into taking the pill, fingerfucking, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, slight choking, bit of spanking, praise, slight guilt for fucking best friend, jungkook’s stamina (deffo inspired by seven), minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 9.1k

a/n: aaaand the first addition to tpp series is out 🥴 this was originally going to be a short drabble for jk but i liked the concept so much that i decided to make it a one-shot + write one for every single member. so see this as my first thought for the fic (not boring imo but the most basic one? if that makes sense) anyways, hope u enjoy!

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

“What even is that?” you ask your friend, Lee, as you reach for the pink package that she just nonchalantly tossed onto your coffee table. You’re seated on your couch as you wrap your fingers around the piece of pink carton, uncrossing your legs once you have it in your hands.

Your eyes scan the white letters around the pink cartoon cat but you still can’t make much sense of it.

“I saw someone tweet about it. Essentially, it’s like viagra for vaginas,” Lee tells you as she leans back into the couch, a cold can of coke in her hand.

You can’t help but snort in mockery as you throw it back onto the table in front of you and say, “There’s no way in hell you actually believe that thing works.”

Your other friend, Yoona, walks out of your kitchen with another can of soda in her hand. She glances at the small pink package on the table as she plops down on your couch next to you, an amused grin on her lips.

Lee shrugs her shoulders as she zaps through the comedy movies catalogue on Netflix with your remote, her eyes absentmindedly shifting to the packaged pill. “I’m not sure. It was like 10 bucks on Amazon.” Her gaze lingers on the pill, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You roll your eyes, annoyance bubbling in your chest at the fact that your friend is dumb enough to get scammed like this. “10 bucks? They just sold you some cinnamon powder in a capsule and called it a day,” you laugh, returning your attention to the TV as you throw your feet up onto the coffee table.

“Oh, yeah? Then why don’t you take it?” Lee challenges you, pushing the pill in the pink package toward you with her foot.

Your eyes shift toward the pill. “You want me to take that pill right now?” Your eyebrow cocks up and you stare at it for a moment as if it were poison before turning your attention to her. It could very well be poison, actually.

A smirk stretches onto Yoona’s lips as she seemingly enjoys the thought of Lee challenging the most stubborn person on planet Earth. Yoona leans forwards after sipping her coke, parting her lips to say, “Yeah, since you don’t think that it works, right?”

You nonchalantly shrug your shoulders, hoping to appear unbothered. You raise your own drink to your lips and glance at your friends over the rim of your can. “I really don’t,” you say before you take a sip of your iced tea. “But Jungkook is coming over later.”

An evil look twinkles in Yoona’s eyes as your words reach her ears. “Ah, so you do think there’s a chance it works.” She’s proud of her little gotcha-moment but you make sure it’s short-lived.

She watches as you swallow too quickly, a low burp escaping your lips as you scramble to defend yourself.

“No, I literally don’t.” Why would you? Viagra is insanely expensive, to think it’s counterpart is available on Amazon for 10 bucks is insane.

“Then take it,” Lee tilts her head to the side, a shit-eating grin on her lips. “Besides… you keep saying there’s nothing going on between you and Jungkook. Why mention he’s coming over if you’re not fucking him and if you don’t think the pill works?” she adds, eyes twinkling with satisfaction as if she’s got you.

You place your can of iced tea back down on the table with a thud. “I’m not fucking Jungkook, you weirdo,” you grumble as you defiantly reach for the pill.

You and Jungkook have been best friends for years, they know that! They know how both you and Jungkook physically cringe and wince whenever someone mistakes the two of you for a couple. Now, they put the image of having sex with him in your brain and it’s weird.

(Read: Well, lately, it has been crossing your mind but it quickly gets ignored.)

You’re not dumb, you know Jungkook’s been popular for being attractive since forever but he was never really your type.

Keyword: was.

It’s not your fault, though! Jungkook has been growing out his hair and has been working out, his arm is covered in tattoos and he seems to be making good money as a freelance video editor.

“Well, if you’re not fucking him, can I? I don’t know what’s in the air but he’s been changing a lot lately. Like his beauty looks like it doesn’t even belong on Earth.” Yoona takes the final sip of her old drink after she says that, crumpling it up and slamming it down onto the table with an obnoxious exhale.

You can tell she’s saying it to get a rise out of you but you quite literally don’t care. Why would you care about who the hell your friend is fucking?

“Fuck him if you want, I literally don’t care,” you say quietly as you gather the empty cans onto the tray you brought them in. You actually can’t bring yourself to care about Jungkook’s sex life, in all honesty.

“See, you’re jealous! I bet you’re fucking.” Lee’s teaseful words and Yoona’s obnoxious giggles are starting to irritate you. Can’t they just accept the fact you’re not fucking your best friend just because he has a penis?

You glare at the both of them with a twitch in your brows, your nostrils flared and your fingers tingling with the urge to throw the empty cans of soda at them.

You make up your mind and say, “Alright, to prove to you that this stupid pink pill doesn’t fucking work and nothing is going on between Jungkook and I…” You pop the pill out of its pocket and place it on your tongue, swiftly swallowing it down with the rest of your iced tea. “Two birds, one stone.”

The room fills with obnoxious laughter and giggles as they watch you, shaking their head at your obstinance. “You’re so stubborn and so petty,” Yoona adds before taking a sip of her new coke after cracking it open.

“You really think the pussy equivalent of viagra would cost 10 bucks? Be serious,” you grumble in annoyance, throwing your feet up onto the table again and slouch further into your couch as you try to pay attention to whatever is playing on the TV.

They share a mischievous look but you can’t bring yourself to comment on it. “Okay, if you say so.” Lee brings her shoulders up in a shrug and drops the topic for now.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

About 45 minutes later as Yoona and Lee get ready to leave, Yoona nudges you with her foot. “Do you feel anything?”

“No. I don’t. I’m telling you, it’s not real,” you tell them in all honesty. You really don’t feel any different. You don’t show your relief, though.

“Bummer. I really wanted you to learn a lesson,” Lee laughs and blows you a kiss when you put up your middle finger.

You say goodbye as they walk out and you just return your attention to your TV, watching the sappy drama that Lee and Yoona are obsessed with for some reason.

After a few moments, your phone buzzes.

[7:02PM]

Jungkook

Lays or Pringles?

[7:03PM]

You

pringlessssss

[7:03PM]

Jungkook

Bet. Be there in about an hour

[7:04PM]

You

okiii

You mindlessly throw your phone somewhere on the couch beside you and rise to your feet to clean up the mess Lee and Yoona left behind.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Well, fuck.

About another 40 minutes later, you’re starting to actually regret taking that damn pill.

You can’t fucking believe this. Your nipples have been erect for 20 minutes and you’re sure you’re in need of a change of underwear.

What the hell is in that pill?

You walk into the bathroom to examine your appearance in the mirror. The air knocks out of your lungs at the sight in front of you.

Your pupils are dilated, your cheeks and nose are piping hot. Your lips are swollen and a thin layer of sweat is draped over your forehead.

Your heart has also been beating quicker than usual.

You want to hump everything in your sight. Is this what it’s like for an animal in heat? Fucking hell. You’ve never been this aroused.

Your hand slowly travels down your stomach and under the hem of your sweats. Reaching into your underwear, your fingertips are met with a disgusting amount of pure sticky substance.

If you weren’t wearing your sweatpants so low on your hips, you definitely would have soaked through the thick material of your sweats, that’s how fucking drenched you are.

What should you do? Take a quick shower? It’d be useless to shower now since the effects can last for days. You’d just continue to produce your body’s natural lubrication and you don’t have the time to be showering every hour.

Clean up and change your underwear? That sounds like it’d make the most sense but you’d go through a lot of panties in a couple days too. Maybe you should literally just wear a tampon?

Fucking hell. You should’ve never taken that fucking pill. Damn those fucking friends of yours.

Like a gag in a sitcom, just as you reach for your underwear drawer, your front door swinging open rips through your eardrums. Regret immediately seeps into your stomach for giving Jungkook your spare residence key.

“Honey, I’m home,” Jungkook jokes and the sound of him kicking off his shoes as he closes the door rings in your ears like a blaring alarm.

You want to drop onto your knees and scream until you pass the fuck out. Your eyes flicker between the drawer and your bedroom door. What should you do?

He doesn’t give you much of an option when you hear him searching for you. “Y/N? Where are you?” Jungkook’s voice rings even louder in your ears this time and you can hear him approaching your room. You internally cry out and quickly head towards your bedroom door.

You walk into the hall and watch as he stops in his tracks. He’s wearing a black beanie, grey sweatpants and a grey sweater with a plastic bag in his tattooed hand which you assume are the snacks he picked up on his way here.

Grey fucking sweats.

Jungkook has always been handsome but for fuck’s sake. Your core literally pulsates at the sight of him right now.

“Hey,” you breathe out and walk up to him, brushing past him and into the living room in a straight line.

“Hey… You okay?” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise and quickly pinch into a frown as he follows you into the living room.

You quickly nod your head, hand on your head as you try to collect your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?” you say, trying to appear casual as you head into the kitchen to grab a can of his favorite beer.

The sound of the plastic bag full of snacks hitting your coffee table and his body plopping onto your couch doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “I’m great, work was chill.”

You place your hands on your kitchen counter and lean forwards, taking a moment to catch your breath but your breath is not steadying at all.

Your feet carry you to the living room and you carefully place the cans onto the coffee table, trying your best not to look at him in those damn sweatpants.

Jungkook has ditched the beanie and his long black locks are sprawled on the backrest of the couch as he has comfortably sunk into your sofa, hair messy and screaming to be tugged on. You have to fight every bone in your body to not climb onto his lap right now and grind into him.

Have some fucking decorum, he’s your friend. Not an object.

Your chest deflates as you softly exhale. Make your way to the couch as you carefully sit down. Hope to the Lord that you don’t soak through your clothes. You’d usually sit next to him but today you think it’d be best to sit at the other end of the couch.

He aims his frown at you but you pretend not to notice. He doesn’t comment on it, though. You crack your new can of iced tea open because there’s no way you’re putting alcohol in your system with this amount of arousal pooling inside of you.

“What movie are we watching?” he asks after a moment of silence in hopes of deterring the awkwardness as he turns his head to the TV, his thumb pressing one of the arrows on your remote, going through the catalogue of available movies.

“Uh… I don’t know. You can choose,” you mumble as you take a few more gulps to distract yourself.

He frowns at your words but keeps his eyes glued to the TV. “I chose last time. It’s your turn to choose.”

“Yeah, sorry, I just–” you start, which makes him look at you, “just put that one on.” You wave your hand toward the TV and he turns his head to look at the one he’s landed on before you return your attention to chugging your iced tea.

“We watched that one 3 weeks ago.” He sits up this time. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to keel over,” he says, quietly. He sounds concerned and you sound fucking stupid.

You shake your head as the sparkling beverage burns your throat, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m fine, I’m okay,” you mumble under your breath.

“Are you trying to convince me or you?” he asks, “And why are you sitting so far away?” he whines as he scoots closer to you, his hand reaching out to grab your waist but you shoot up out of the couch and onto your feet, avoiding his touch by a hair.

The moment he touches you, you’re going to pounce on him. No doubt in your mind.

“No, don’t,” you squeal, taking a step away from the sofa.

Now Jungkook is really fucking confused.

He quickly stands up as well, a concerned yet confused frown on his face. He probably thinks he did something wrong which makes your chest tighten with guilt. “What’s going on? Why are you acting like you’re about to have a fucking stroke?”

You breathe loudly as you pace around the living room with your hands on your head and say, “I might.”

Jungkook’s breath abruptly hitches in his throat as your concerning words ring in his ears. “Wh– Huh? What? Should I call an ambulance?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s not like that,” you mumble before you finally turn to him, dropping your hands from your head and letting your fingers pick at the loose flesh around your nails.

His eyes drop down to your anxious fidgeting before traveling back up to stare at you. “Then, what is it? You’re scaring the shit out of me right now, Y/N.”

He actually does look terrified right now, staring at you with wide eyes as his teeth absentmindedly play with his lip piercings.

You loudly exhale in exasperation and rub your forehead as you consider just telling him. “I fucked up, Jungkook, and I’m panicking,” you say, rubbing your eyes until there’s colored spots in your vision. “I never should’ve taken that fucking pill.”

You watch as his face becomes that of a cartoon character, eyes wide, brows raised to the stars, mouth twitching. “What? Pill? What pill? Are you high?”

You roll your eyes and grunt in annoyance with yourself for phrasing it like that. “No, I–” you groan loudly before cutting yourself off and heading into the kitchen. You wince as you shove your hand into the trash can, taking the ripped pink piece of carton out of the garbage. You stare at it for a while but already find yourself heading back into the living room before you overthink it and change your mind.

Jungkook is still standing in front of the couch, his big brown eyes still wide with concern and his bottom lip reddened from how much he’s been chewing on it.

You walk up to him and with a flick of your wrist, you toss it onto the table in front of him. He glances at the pink package before glancing back up at you but you’re already looking away with your arms crossed.

He slowly sinks back down and takes the ripped package into his hands to examine it. He reads the words for a few seconds but he still seems confused. “Female sexual enhancement and libido boosting? What the fuck is this?”

You groan as you drop to your knees on the floor across from him, in front of the coffee table.

“It’s like viagra for people with pussies and it’s supposed to make you horny as fuck. My friends dared me to take it because I told them it wasn’t real.”

He looks up at you through his brows, a mix of surprise and confusion still on his face. “Do you think it’s laced with something dangerous?”

“No, nothing like that but whatever the fuck they put in it is working. It’s fucking working,” you whine as you place your elbows on the coffee table in front of you with a loud thud, burying your face in your palms.

There’s a moment of silence between you two.

“So like…” he begins, trying to stifle a laugh, “you’re really horny? Right now?”

“Jungkook,” you groan, eyes shamefully looking up at him and you’re just in time to watch him clutch his arms around his stomach as he just obnoxiously laughs in your face. “Stop laughing!”

He chuckles for a little while longer before calming down. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never heard of this before. How are you feeling?” He places it back onto the table and returns the eye contact, still an annoying grin on his soft lips.

“Like I could fuck the fridge if it had a dick.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing maniacally, throwing himself back onto the couch as he exaggeratedly gasps for air.

“Jungkook! I’m panicking, stop laughing!” you whine, standing back up on your feet as heat rushes to your face, a lump of embarrassment forming in your throat.

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles as he wipes a tear at the corner of his eye. “You’re just so fucking stupid.”

You huff in response and glare down at him, his eyes slowly trailing up your body to meet yours and the single act of his black eyes drinking you in makes a curtain of lava drape over your already burning body.

You tap your foot against the floor impatiently. “What should I do?” You chew on your lip as you ask him the impossible question.

He simply shrugs his shoulders and leans back into the couch, hands on his upper thighs right below his hips. He’s not making this any fucking easier. “Masturbate. Or go get fucked.”

You wince, a thousand volts of electricity travelling up your vertebrae at his words. “Tonight’s our movie night, though.”

“Babe, you’re clearly not in the right headspace to be watching a movie with me.”

You internally scream at the pet name he sometimes uses when the both of you are alone. It never makes you feel anything in particular but right now, your stomach clenches at the pet name and you’re painfully reminded that it didn’t help your sticky underwear situation at all.

“Still, I don’t want to ditch you. That’s not cool,” you mutter as you take a seat on the couch, cringing as your panties stick to your core and your slick is undoubtedly smeared all over your sex and inner thighs. No matter how nonchalant he is about the situation, you’re too embarrassed to excuse yourself now to go change your damn underwear.

“So what? You’re just gonna sit next to me and squirm all evening?” he asks you, a genuine look of confusion on his face.

“Mhm.” You shrug your shoulders in hopes of appearing nonchalant and unbothered as you reach for the remote.

But you’re extremely bothered. Hot and fucking bothered.

“You can go masturbate, you know. I’m not going to act weird about it,” he tells you with a carefree air around him as he tears a bag of chips open.

His words make your pussy clench around nothing and you have to actively remind yourself to cross your arms to hide your erect nipples, despite the fact he has probably already noticed.

“I doubt masturbating will do the trick. Besides, it says the effects can last up to 72 hours. I’m not going to masturbate for 3 days.”

He breaks into a fit of giggles again, making you roll your eyes as you swing one of your legs over the other. It appears casual but really, you’re just looking for some friction.

“You’re so dumb for taking that pill.” He reminds you, as if you don’t already know that. He glances at you when a childish huff pushes past your lips.

Neither of you say anything else but the moment of silence is disturbed by the scrunching of the bag of chips in Jungkook’s hands.

You take a moment as you consider what you really want to ask him. Should you just say fuck it and ask him to fuck the shit out of you?

The idea quickly gets obliterated by your rational self and you finally choose a movie to play.

Throughout the movie, you notice Jungkook’s eyes on you every now and then. The constant crossing of your legs and arms doesn’t go unnoticed by him but he never comments on it.

You’re doing great until a sex scene starts playing on the screen. You suck in a breath as you watch intently, your fingers twitching in your lap.

The actress on the screen is crying out in – over the top – pleasure as the man pounds into her, the headboard of the bed banging against the wall exaggeratedly makes the frames that are hung up on the wall crash to the ground with a loud clatter. You know it’s all fake but that doesn’t stop the gushing in your panties.

“Y/N,” Jungkook chuckles as he motions for you to skip the scene but you don’t react to him.

You stare blankly ahead of you at the TV, sitting in silence. You can see Jungkook shaking his head at your stubbornness in the corner of your eye as he stretches his arm over your lap, reaching for the remote that’s next to your thigh. His arm is hovered over your lap, face almost pressed into your chest and his cologne is the final drop that has your head spinning.

The silence that falls around the two of you as you impulsively wrap your hand around his wrist – that’s reaching for the remote – is suffocating.

He instantly freezes, eyes glued to the remote that he had just wrapped his fingers around. He’s in an awkward position, lying on his hip and his arm stretched out over your thighs with his face mere inches away from your breasts.

You finally decide to speak up.

“Will you do me a favor?” you quietly ask him after those few moments of silence as you let go of his wrist, your eyes nervously glued to your fingers as you fidget with the laces of your sweatpants.

This time, Jungkook is quiet.

Jungkook is never quiet.

The tension is palpable and it makes you want to jump off your balcony right now. His silence is already starting to make you regret asking him.

He slowly moves back to his seat but you can’t see much else as you refuse to look away from your lap.

He finally speaks up and you’re conflicted on whether you’re relieved that he does or not. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking of me?” His voice is lower than usual. It sends a quick shiver down your spine and awakens the goosebumps on the upper layer of your skin.

You don’t even look at him and in response, you just stay quiet, your silence confirming his speculation.

You two sit in unbearable silence for what seems like a damn eternity, the obnoxious moaning coming from the TV is not making this any easier. Jungkook seems to be in deep thought before you see him rise to his feet in your peripheral vision. You swallow thickly as he starts heading towards the entrance hall.

Shit. He’s leaving.

You don’t blame him, though. Who the fuck asks this of their best friend?

You shut your eyes tightly, holding your breath as you patiently wait for the sound of the door clicking close to hit your ears.

But it never comes.

“Are you coming or not?”

His words shoot into your eardrums like a thousand needles and it makes your heart violently jerk against your ribcage.

You crack your eyes open to see him standing in the doorway of the hall, back turned to you but his head turned over his shoulder as he stares you down with an unreadable expression clouding his face. A frown climbs its way onto your brows as you slowly get up. Your feet take you to him on their own, body magnetizing towards him as your stomach bursts with excitement and your veins are set aflame with desire.

You shyly follow him into your bedroom as if you’re the one visiting his home. “Are you sure?” you quietly ask him as you enter your bedroom after him, closing the door with a soft thud.

He slowly turns to you, head cocked to the side as his black gaze drapes over your body and makes you feel incredibly small. “You’re my friend in need of some help. Why would I not be sure?” His face is a bit expressionless and his voice sounds different than what you’re used to.

Your brows pinch together at his disregardance. “Jungkook, this isn’t a usual request. I’m not asking you to drop me off at home after work or to delete an ugly picture of me you posted on your instagram. I’m–”

“You’re asking me to fuck you. I don’t see why it has to mean anything more than what it is. Sex isn’t that big of a deal, Y/N.”

You idly blink at him, listening to his blunt words as he casually tells you he’s down to fuck you. All those years of the two of you swearing you had never crossed any lines, how you don’t see each other that way, how you’re like family and this is what it’s come to?

The doubt glimmering in your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by him, evident by the crossing of his arms over his chest and the cocking of his head to the side. “Are you sure?” he asks you this time, his voice soft and his tone neutral.

You stare at him for a couple seconds but you’ve made up your mind.

You start walking past him, heading for your bed. You tuck your fingers under the hem of your sweats and wiggle them off your hips as you turn around to face him again, stepping out of the sweats pooling at your ankles. You take a seat on the edge of your bed and kick your sweats away, all whilst looking up at him through your pretty lashes.

You notice that his own breath is getting heavier. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he watches you slowly lean back on your hands, bending your legs at the knees and propping your feet up onto the edge of the mattress as you spread your thighs wide apart, allowing him to witness your extreme arousal firsthand.

Jungkook’s eyes drop down to what’s between your legs, the massive wet patch of slick on your panties and your inner thighs lathered in your stickiness make his eyebrows twitch.

“Is that pill giving you a major confidence boost too?” he mumbles as he walks up to you, referring to how you’re usually on the shy and modest side. He tugs his sweatshirt off and throws it somewhere on your floor.

“I don’t give a fuck about what it’s given me, I need you to fuck me like you’ve never fucked anyone before. Right now,” you say with a hiss to your tone as you ditch your t-shirt, leaving you in your sheer tank top and no bra.

Your erect nipples haven’t gone unnoticed by him and your words make him grunt in response. You watch as he starts palming himself through his sweatpants, body now towering over you as he stares down at you.

You’ve seen Jungkook shirtless before, when he’s working out or playing some random sport with his friends that you agreed to cheer him on for from the sidelines. Even when he stays over or you stay over at his. So, his physique shouldn’t be surprising to you and it isn’t, but the sight of his bare torso right now drives you up the fucking wall.

He reaches for the hem of your panties, making you close your thighs as he yanks them down your legs. The massive string of slick still connected to your underwear makes him swear loudly, your panties aggressively tossed to the floor by him.

“I can’t believe how wet it’s made you,” he grunts as he places his hands on your knees and gently spreads your thighs again, eyes glued to your sticky pussy. “I’m pretty confident I’ve satisfied all the people I’ve had sex with but I’ve never seen anything like this. You’re fucking dripping.”

And you are. You can hear the splatter of a droplet hitting your floor and the embarrassment drives you absolutely insane.

You notice his hand tightening around his boner. “Fuck, I want to taste.”

You can tell he wants to touch, lick, taste you but you’ve already made it clear that you need him to fuck you right this instant.

“Jungkook, I’ll literally die if you don’t fuck me right now.” You lean back onto your elbows, eyes still staring up at him as he slowly starts tugging his sweatpants down his legs. Soon he ditches the Calvin Klein boxers too, allowing his erection to spring free.

Your eyes drop down to the dick in his hand, hard as a rock as he spits in his hand and strokes himself whilst eyeing you. His dick is red at the tip but darkens at the shaft, it’s not massive but it’s not small either. It’s just the right size. The sight alone could have you squirting hands-free.

You need to be sedated.

“I don’t have any protection on me,” he begins, “Are you–”

You cut him off. “I’m clean. Are you?”

You know Jungkook is incredibly responsible when it comes to his sex life but you still make it a thing to ask.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. Upper teeth sunken into his bottom lip. Strokes his own dick.

“Good, ‘cause I need to feel everything,” you grunt as you reach for your clit. You drag your fingers up your wet slit and pull your fingers away from your pussy to show him the thick string of your slick that stays connected from your pussy to your fingers. The string doesn’t break even though you’ve stretched it out a few inches.

It’s your way of telling him you don’t need any prep because you are disgustingly drenched.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He takes a few moments to collect himself before he positions himself at your sex. He rubs the head of his dick up and down your slit, gathering your slick onto his tip with a hiss escaping his mouth. “Birth control?”

Your legs violently jerk at the sensation of the head of his dick rubbing up and down your slit. You could cum right now. “Yeah.” Your reply leaves your lips in a pornographic moan and you can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed about it.

He positions his dick at your hole with one hand whilst the other supports your leg by the back of your knee. “Ready?”

“For fuck’s sake, just put it in already. I feel like I’ll come undone any second,” you whimper, your chest rising and falling dramatically as you pant.

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest, looking up into your eyes for the first time since you showed him your wet pussy. He slowly starts pushing into you, his eyes watching your face as your mouth falls open and your eyebrows scrunch together at the intrusion.

A whiny groan leaves his throat as your walls wrap around him. “Holy shit. You’re so fucking tight. So fucking wet,” he mumbles more to himself as he starts pushing further in, the sweet moans spilling from your lips raising goosebumps on his arms as you clench around him, threatening to milk him of everything he’s worth.

He leans forward and hovers over you, wedging himself in between your legs as he keeps pushing into you. His hands are flat against the mattress on each side of your waist, the back of your knees bent at his forearms, around his elbows. You’re spread so wide that the sound of your soaking pussy is, at times, louder than the slapping of his skin against yours.

You cry out at the pleasure, it’s like your sensitivity has been cranked up to a hundred. Your senses are sent into overdrive, the tiniest friction has your head spinning because nothing compares to how you’re feeling right now.

You open your eyes to the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen, Jungkook on top of you with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes closed. He’s gorgeous.

Tears prick in your eyes at the pleasure, the head of his dick rubbing against your walls so good has you seeing stars. You can feel every single ridge, vein, nook and cranny of his dick as he fucks into you. Your walls tighten around him so well, your slick already making a sticky mess against his sex and your bum.

As if he sensed you looking at him, his eyes crack open and stare down at yours. His gaze drops down to your lips and before you know it, he has his lips pressed to yours. You’re surprised at first but your lips quickly work back, a moan escaping your throat which allows him to lick into your mouth.

After several minutes of making out and fucking, Jungkook pulls back to catch his breath. “Sorry about that but you feel– you feel so fucking good,” he grunts as he leans back again, turning you onto your side and lifting your leg as he continues to fuck into you.

You yelp at the switch of position, your fingers tightly wrapping around the sheets under your waist, watching as your leg slightly jerks against his chest but he restrains your thigh as he holds onto it tightly.

The familiar clench in your stomach takes you by surprise. Already?

“I’m gonna fucking cum. I’m gonna–” You have never orgasmed this fast and definitely not from solely penetration before but this pill is working wonders.

Jungkook nods his head in understanding as he kisses your calf that’s up on his shoulder. “Cum on my dick, babe,” he says with a moan before he tilts his head back in bliss.

Fuck him for using that pet name.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, my God. I’m gonna…” you cry out as your orgasm drops onto you like a pile of fucking bricks, a million volts of electricity frying your brains and making your heart beat a thousand miles a minute.

You’re grateful that Jungkook keeps fucking you because your orgasm has never lasted this long before. Your legs are shaking, your hands are bunching up the sheets around you and your throat burns from the cries you’ve let out.

The continuous clenching of your pussy during your orgasm has pushed Jungkook to the edge as well, his brows furrowed in concentration.

His own orgasm approaches him as his thrusts get a little rougher, your breasts bouncing from the momentum of his hips slamming into yours.

Not long after you, he pulls out in one swift motion. It seems like he pulled out right on time because ropes of his warm cum instantly land all over your sex and stomach the moment he pulls out.

He reaches for his dick and pumps himself to milk himself of every drop, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he watches himself cum all over his best friend.

His hand comes to a halt and he collapses on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to catch his breath.

After a few moments of silence and no movement other than the heavy breathing, you say, “Jungkook…”

He pauses for a moment and then says, “Give me a few minutes, I’ll be ready for round two in a bit.” His voice is quiet and muffled from being buried in the crook of your neck.

“Round two?” you ask him, a scrunch on your brows as you frown at the ceiling.

He slowly lifts his head, his eyes searching yours. “Yeah, you don’t wanna go for round two?” he asks, his voice is neutral as if he’s asking you about the weather. Doesn’t he realize he just fucked you? He’s talking to you with the sweetest look in his eyes as if he didn’t just give you most mind-blowing orgasm of your life.

“Well… Yeah. But I don’t expect you to,” you quietly say, blinking up at him with doe eyes.

“Nonsense,” he grumbles as he finally pushes himself off of you, his softening dick retreating from you. He glances down at your chest and looks back up at you. “Can I take this off?” he asks, gently tugging at your tank top.

Without another word, you reach for the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head. He quietly apologizes as he takes it from you and uses it to wipe your body clean before tossing it aside. He knows you’re too fucked out to scold him for it.

Jungkook’s eyes immediately drop down to your breasts, his big brown eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. His hands reach up but freeze right above your breasts, eyes glancing up to read your expression and see if it’s okay to touch them.

Your eyes flicker with desperation. “Please,” you breathe out, encouraging him to go ahead.

He brings his hand up to his mouth and licks at his thumb, bringing it down to toy with your erect nipple. “Wow,” he whispers, closing in on your other breast with his mouth as he gently licks and sucks on your nipple.

Your moans sound pathetic, hips involuntarily thrusting up into his. It makes him chuckle like the cocky asshole that he is, his hand gently pressing against your stomach to push your hips down. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this horny,” he states as he rolls off of you and props himself up next to you, leaning on his elbow to support his own weight.

His hand slowly trails from your breast down to your stomach and you’re already spreading your thighs further apart for him which makes him chuckle again. The tips of his middle and ring finger find your clit, the direct contact to the most sensitive area in your body sends a shiver down your legs.

Small circles are being rubbed onto your clit by his soft fingers and after a few moments, his eyes shift down to his fingers as he pulls them away from your pussy. “Look,” he says in a deep exhale.

You glance down at his hand like he’s asking you to. He’s showing you the string of slick that’s connected to his fingers and if you weren’t high off arousal right now, you’d be extremely embarrassed at how wet you are.

His fingers dive back in, sliding in between your folds and massaging all around before he plunges his fingers into you. This makes you thrust your hips straight up into his hand, a pornographic moan spilling from your lips.

“You’re so needy,” he chuckles, pushing you down as he starts furiously fucking his fingers into you, curling them repeatedly to assault your g-spot.

You yelp at the torture on your sweet spot. “Shut the fuck up,” you grunt, your reaction to his teaseful words makes him chuckle.

He presses his soft lips into the side of your neck as he continues his abuse on your pussy, not commenting on the way your legs jolt and jerk with every curl of his fingers but forcefully restraining you from writhing with his own body.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna–”

“Already?” he teases you, twisting his body so half of it is now hovering over you. You turn to look at him as you sob, the squishing sounds your pussy makes are loud enough to finally embarrass you. His face is hovering right over yours as his hands slam into your sex. Your hands reach up to the back of his head, pulling him down to press your lips into his so you can avoid his piercing gaze.

He wastes no time kissing you back, his hand picking up its insanity-inducing pace. White spots cover your eyelids as a strange sensation washes over you. It’s not an orgasm, you don’t recall ever feeling this before. You cry into his mouth and it takes you a second to realize you’re squirting all over your bed.

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook grunts into your mouth, the pace of his hand never faltering as it continues to slam into your sex. Tears stream down your face as your second orgasm quickly approaches you right after your squirt session, your legs continuously jerking and squirming under him.

“Jungkook–!” you sob as your hips involuntarily recoil against the mattress, your orgasm finally hitting you directly after your squirt session. Your hips running away from Jungkook’s hand doesn’t mean anything to him. He just keeps fucking his fingers into you. Lips still pressed to yours as he swallows your pleading cries.

He hums against your mouth, lips wrapping around your tongue as he gently sucks on it. You aggressively squirm under him, your hands weakly pressed up against his shoulders and chest in an attempt to push him off. He finally gets the memo and retreats his fingers.

He can’t help himself as he pulls away from your lips, bringing his sticky fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean, humming in delight at the taste of his best friend.

He pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a pop and sits up, looking down at the mess you created. “Damn. I didn’t know you could do all that,” he mumbles before running his hand back up your disgustingly wet slit, holding you down with his other hand to keep you from squirming.

You can’t even answer, you’re completely fucked out under him, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re not giving up on me, are you?” he quips, using his sticky hand to pump his growing erection.

Your eyes drop down to his hand, swallowing hard as you eye his dick. “Get on all fours, come on,” he says as he slaps your thigh, getting on his knees on your mattress in front of you.

“Give me a second, you freak,” you mumble as you prop yourself up on your elbows. You shake your head in an attempt to gather your thoughts but it doesn’t do much.

You finally turn over and lazily get onto your hands and knees, arms shaking and you try your best to ignore your slick trickling down the back of your thighs.

His hand comes down to knead your asscheek, a low grunt leaving his throat. “If there’s one thing I’ve fantasized about when it comes to you, it’s your ass,” he mutters under his breath, both his hands now kneading the soft skin of your bum.

“You’ve fantasized about me?” you ask him, glancing over your shoulder to look back at him.

His eyes glance into yours before they return to your perky ass in front of him, one hand stopping the kneading of your cheek to pump his dick and position it at your sex.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t,” he starts, “but it was only a handful of times and it was way back when we first met, no worries,” he adds, rubbing the tip of his dick up your slit. “I take our friendship seriously.”

It knocks a moan out of you and your arms already give out, your face colliding with the mattress under you. How seriously did you both take this friendship if you’re rubbing your genitals together right now?

“Have you fantasized about me?” he quietly asks you, a quiet hiss leaving his lips as he continues to rub his tip up and down your wetness.

You sniff, silently thinking about your answer for a moment before sighing and saying, “Maybe once a year.”

A soft chuckle escapes his lips at your response and he shakes his head. He doesn’t reply and instead pushes into you, groaning at the stretch again. “I literally just fucked you, how are you still so–” he groans loudly as he bottoms out. He throws his head back as he starts fucking into you but quickly tilts it back down to watch the skin of your asscheeks recoil against his hips.

Your pathetic wimpers make him reach around your hip, gently rubbing your clit as he starts thrusting into you. You cry out at the overstimulation, stretching your arm out behind you to push into his lower stomach in an attempt to push him off but there’s absolutely no strength behind the push because you don’t want him to stop.

“You sound so fucking pretty like this,” he grunts, fingers continuing to rub circles on your overstimulated clit and he pays absolutely no mind to your hand pressing into his lower abdomen. “Tell me how I’m making you feel.”

With another sob into your pillow, you shake your head at his request. He can’t possibly expect you to form a coherent sentence, right?

That’s until you feel a sharp sting spread through your asscheek, your ass recoiling from the spanking he just gave you. You gasp and lazily turn your face to look over your shoulder at him as you shout, “Jeon Jungkook!”

He leans over, his chest pressed into your back and his lips pressed against your ear. “Tell me,” he whispers as he pushes you forward, watching you fall flat onto your stomach, face pressed into the pillows. You’re now fully lying face down on the mattress.

Just as you turn to look over your shoulder at him, he has entered you again. The fact that you’re lying face down with your legs together makes him curse as he struggles to enter you all the way but he does, the feeling of being wrapped all around him has you seeing stars.

He places his hands on each side of your elbows as you prop yourself up on them, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear and his chest pressed into your back as he starts thrusting into you again.

“Jungkook,” you moan as you turn your face slightly, eyes staring up at him. His face is so close to yours, eyes glued to the mattress underneath you.

“Tell me how it feels, baby.”

Fuck. Why would he call you that?

Your mouth is agape and your eyebrows are furrowed as Jungkook keeps fucking into you from behind, his eyes finally shifting to yours. His proximity and intense eyes make you finally comply as you say, “It– It feels so fucking good.”

His black eyes penetrate yours and you can’t tear your eyes away from his. “You look so fucking pretty like this, Y/N, holy shit. I just wanna–” he grunts as he cuts himself off, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder as he keeps fucking into your tightness.

“You just wanna what?” you say, a soft whimper following your words as you encourage him to finish his sentence.

“Destroy you.”

A cry spills from your lips the moment he says that, the pace in which he’s thrusting picks up and it’s getting rougher with each passing second. At this point you’re almost getting hatefucked and you can’t help but love every second of it.

“I hope that’s a promise,” you manage to reply.

“Oh yeah?” His hand wraps around your throat from the back, making you lift your head up, the back of your head colliding with his shoulder. Your temple is pressed against his jaw as he gently squeezes your throat.

The sinful sounds such as his skin slapping against yours, the squelshing of your wet pussy and the moans spilling from your lips are the only things you can hear and want to hear at this moment.

Jungkook’s lips and nose graze the shell of your ear, quiet moans leaving his mouth and you can only describe it as liquid gold being ladled into your ear by angels.

“Fuck, come ride me.” He doesn’t even wait for a response as he slides right out of you, lets go of your throat and drops his body next to yours before rolling onto his back. His strong arms reach for you and yank you up by your arm and waist, pulling you toward him.

A surprised yelp leaves you as you’re forced to climb onto him, every single time your clit grazes his skin has you biting back a pathetic sob. You guide his dick toward your sex and without hesitation, you sink right down onto his sex.

He grunts at the way you tightly wrap around him, hands reaching for your hips. You start bouncing on him, thighs and ass slapping into his hips which makes him moan your name softly.

You throw your head back in pure bliss and place your hands on his thighs, allowing yourself to lean back on them and support your weight as you fuck yourself on his dick.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles as he watches your every movement, eyes scanning the way your face twists in pleasure, the way your breasts bounce, the way your stomach jiggles, the way pretty moans continuously fall from your lips.

He brings his fingers to your sex and rubs that pattern that you like directly onto your clit. He watches as your body starts jerking and your legs start trembling with a shit-eating grin.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna–”

He cuts you off. “I know, pretty. Cum all over me,” he says as he continues to stimulate your already overstimulated clit.

You want to keep riding, you really, really want to but you can’t. Your body collapses right on top of his torso, breathless and a mess. He jumps right into action as he holds onto your forearms and pins them into your lower back, holding you tightly against his chest as he thrusts up into you.

Your face is buried in the pillow right next to his head, your cries probably deafening him as he fucks you toward your 3rd orgasm of the hour. Your body is moving like jelly at this point and you can’t contain your sobs as your body continues to tremble like a leaf in the wind.

Your 3rd orgasm hits you like a fucking train and you can’t even move, you keep crying in Jungkook’s hold as he mercilessly pounds his hips up into you.

Fireworks explode on the back of your eyelids, electricity fries your brain into a pile of mush and your body is set alight, all your nerve endings bursting with magma.

When you’ve ridden out your orgasm, a surprised whimper rips through your throat when you’re suddenly flipped, thrown onto your back against your mattress and your legs pushed back towards your torso.

He climbs onto you and slides right back in, ignoring your cries of overstimulation as he harshly fucks into you, his hands placed against the mattress right next to your ribs on each side of your body.

You weakly crack your eyes open to glance up at him, your gaze shifting all over his face. The layer of sweat covering his forehead and nose, his bottom lip trapped in between his bunny teeth, his eyes staring deep into your fucking soul.

“Where… Where do you want me to cum?” he breathily asks, his hips aggressively recoiling against yours as his own orgasm approaches him rapidly.

“Fill me up until you pass out, Jungkook.” Your voice is hoarse at this point, cracking at the end of your sentence. He knows it’s nothing more than a figure of speech but it’s got his hips stuttering for a moment.

“Fuck, you’re so…” He can’t even finish his sentence as he’s finally releasing his load, shooting ropes of his cum straight into his best friend.

“Fuck,” he curses continuously as his thrusts get inconsistent. His head drops onto your shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as he moans softly with each sloppy thrust, the disgusting squelching of his cum being fucked into you rings louder than any alarm. After his climax has washed away, he finally collapses on top of you, face nuzzled in the crook of your neck.

You stay like that, staring up at the ceiling as tears roll down the sides of your face from the pleasure, overstimulation and sensitivity still pulsating in your veins.

After a few more moments, Jungkook quietly rolls off of you and tries to catch his breath.

You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hands and exhale deeply before whispering his name.

He opens his eyes and turns his head to you, humming softly in response.

“Thank you,” is all you can say.

He shakes his head and props himself up on his elbows as he glances at you. “Don’t thank me just yet. You said it can last up to 3 days, right?”

Your brows pinch together and your stomach bursts into flames. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m not done with you yet.”

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⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

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