#this just me saying things in short words things are deeper than that

[yourtamaki]

rip my ribcage open (devour what’s truly yours)

zoro x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: tummy-pusher zoro, squirting, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, prone bone, chokehold, slight breath play, creampie, violent imagery, religious imagery, bit of aftercare.

zoro thinks you might be trying to say his name.

he’s knelt between your legs, sitting back on his haunches and rocking his hips just enough to fuck you with the fat tip of his cock. there’s a rhythm to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest. short inhale, long exhale, the same way you always sigh his name when he’s reduced you to this.

tears dotting your lashes, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth, hips bucking mindlessly trying to get him to slip in deeper.

fuck, you’re hungry for it.

zoro is not a man of many indulgences. he doesn’t allow himself to be. having too many vices can only lead to a weak mind and an even weaker will. he eats but he does not savour, he sleeps but he does not dream.

but he’d be a shit swordsman if he didn’t understand the balance in all things. denying himself all of life’s comforts would make for a rigid spirit, brittle and easily broken. so he’ll sip on some sake and enjoy its fire in his belly, he’ll nap on sunny’s deck so when he wakes, it’s to the sight of his crew set to the backdrop of the setting sun. and when the sun dips below the horizon, there’s nothing to stop him from finding you in the dark and pulling you into a hungry kiss.

that balance is what makes nights like these all the better. knowing that having you like this, spread open and vulnerable, is good for him. that you’re making him a better man, a stronger man, just by letting him take you apart and make a mess out of you. there’s no need to resist the temptation now of bending low to press his lips to your trembling ones in a slow, ravenous kiss.

you taste like need and the sweetest of sins and he licks at the roof of your mouth, knowing he’s damned himself long ago to crave you for as long as he lives.

"if you want something, you have to ask,” he says, pulling back and idly groping at your tits, pinching your nipple when you don’t answer. you throw your head back at the sudden sensation and a wild heat blooms in his chest at the sight, scorching his ribs. how easily you bare your neck for him. how thoughtlessly.

"please, zoro, please. want you deeper, i wanna feel you here,” you take his hands, sliding them down your body until they come to rest on your lower stomach. irritation, sharp and sudden, cuts through his haze.

“don’t fucking beg,” he says, low and even, “you don’t have to beg. ever.”

it’s so far beneath you to plead, he has to swallow down the growl building in the back of his throat. zoro would topple empires for you, would cut the very moon in half if you asked, and you think you have to beg him for anything?

he doesn’t wait for you to nod before he starts pushing in. it doesn’t matter if you understand yet or not, he’ll fuck it into you until you do.

there’s a moment after he’s bottomed out inside you where neither of you move a muscle. he grits his teeth from the effort of holding on to the frayed rope that is his restraint and letting you get used to the wide stretch of him. ages pass before you reach up, slowly as if to not startle the beast above you, and cup his face in your soft palm. you stroke your thumb across his cheek, just on the edge of his scar. your touch is warm and gentle and cracks something inside him wide open.

the rope slip from his fingers. he lets it.

there’s no warning, no build-up before he’s pressing both palms down on your stomach and fucking into you. you reach up to hold on to any part of him, settling around his neck, a balm on his flushed skin even as your nails dig and bite into him.

“you feel that? hmm?” his smile feels jagged and sharp, more demon than man but you only moan at the sight of it, “you feel me in there?”

it’s a strange sensation, feeling himself carve a space inside you, the push and pull. it’s filthy and more intimate than it has any right to be and he fucking loves it.

“fuck, feel you i feel—” a rough thrust cuts you off and when you catch your breath, you’re still rambling, “—so good, you’re so good.”

zoro’s been called many things in his life but good isn’t one of them. it’s never bothered him before. good men don’t claw their way up in the world and leave a trail of slaughter in their wake. good men don’t scream at the heavens and demand to be heard.

zoro is not a good man. but he can be good. to you. for you.

“breathe, baby,” he says, “don’t forget to breathe.”

he presses down a bit harder and your reaction is instantaneous, legs kicking out, the tears that have been threatening to spill over since he stuffed a pillow under your hips finally sliding down your cheeks. you take him so beautifully and something barbed wraps around his heart and squeezes at the sight, shredding him to bloody pieces.

he knows you’re close before your eyes start to flutter, can feel it building like a storm inside you and chases your pleasure with reckless abandon.

“zoro.”

short inhale, long exhale. his name a sigh on your parted lips as you clench tight around him and cum. he doesn’t stop moving for a second, doesn’t let up the pressure even as he feels you gush all over him, soaking his cock, his thighs, his stomach. his strokes stay sure and steady as he fucks you through your high.

you shudder beneath him before relaxing back into the bed and he slows to a stop to let you catch your breath. it hurts to look at you, all divine and fucked out. it’s a sight too holy for a hellbound man like him to behold but he drinks it in anyway, burns it into his mind. 

what’s one more sin to a demon?

zoro slips out of you with a hiss through gritted teeth, taking a moment to admire the creamy ring around his base, your arousal and cum still dripping off him. you’ve marked him as yours and yours alone without even trying and his cock twitches at the thought.

“no why?” you whine as he pulls back further, “give it back.”

“turn over,” even as he speaks, he’s manhandling you until you’re laid out on your stomach, hips propped up with the pillow he takes care to push under you. zoro kisses down your spine before settling between your spread legs and greeting your cunt with a broad stroke of his tongue, “i ever tell you that you taste good like this?”

“like- mmm fuck,” you say, all breathy as he circles around your swollen clit, “like what?”

“stretched out,” he murmurs, “open.” 

you’re past the point of words as he grabs two handfuls of your ass, spreads your sticky lips open with his thumbs and buries his tongue inside you. he savours the sweet little gasps you let you like the finest sake, groaning into your pussy as you start to rock your hips and grind your clit against him. he can’t catch a full breath, thinks he might be suffocating, and moans a bit louder.

a swarm of words bubble up hot and fast in his lungs, taking up space where breath once lived. half-formed thoughts try and fail to take shape in his mouth, weighing down the tongue that makes you writhe in the sheets. 

he can’t bring himself to speak but if he could, he’d show you. zoro wants to crack his ribs open so you can see the bloody wreckage you’ve caused, let you crawl in and keep you safe next to the heart that’s always, always, been yours. he’d probably burst into flames with so much goodness inside him but that’s alright. at least he’d keep you warm.

the words stay trapped where they are though and all he can do is all he’s ever known how to. he goes to work. zoro is singleminded in his task, fingers digging into the fat of your ass to keep you still while he devours you whole and it doesn’t take long before he’s pushing you off the edge he never let you stray too far away from.

he laps at your folds until you start to squirm away, crawling up the bed and away from him. he lets you put a bit of distance between you, lulls his prey into thinking it’s escaped before he pounces. between one breath and the next, zoro’s on you, draped along your back, licking at the sweat that beads down the nape of your neck. you arch into him, pushing back against the hardness digging into your ass before he rests his weight down on you, forcing you flat on your front.

“where do you want me, baby?” he asks, kissing behind your ear, “tell me where you want me.”

in this moment and in all others, zoro would do anything you told him to. you could make him hump you like an animal until he cums and lick your skin clean or stand across the room and jack off by himself with nothing but the lingering taste of your pussy to help him get off. he’d do it and he’d do it without an ounce of shame.

“want you inside,” you slur, “wanna be full.”

his entire being in the palm of your hands and you choose to be merciful.

“you sure?” he lifts up off you just enough to get a hand around his base and nudge his tip against your clit, “not too sensitive?”

“yeah, pl- i can take it.”

his grin is all teeth when he hears you correct yourself, “that’s my fucking girl. stay still, baby. let me take care of you.”

you’re soft and slick from his spit and two orgasms and when he bottoms out all at once, it’s with a low groan in your ear that echoes behind your breathy moan. sinking back inside you feels like rapture, like something he’s done nothing to deserve but basks in anyway with an endless greed.

he wraps his arms around you, one across your front groping at your chest while the other hooks around to put you in a headlock, keeping you pressed flush to him as he starts to rock into you. zoro is quiet in his worship, purposeful, and you’re nearly as quiet in receiving it, the room filled only by your soaked cunt and ragged breathing. though you don’t say anything, he can hear you loud and clear.

short inhale, long exhale.

a holy call he’s helpless to answer.

zoro fucks you to the rhythm of his name, short, devastating thrusts with his whole weight thrown behind him. he wants to live in this moment, could spend the rest of his days with his cock dragging along your walls slow and sure, relishing the way you tighten like a vice around him every time he flexes and cuts your air off mid-gasp.

but he swore an oath at your altar and zoro has always been a man of his words.

he cums with a sigh of your name, spilling inside you for what feels like ages before he collapses over you boneless and spent, his softening cock keeping you plugged nice and full just like you asked so sweetly for.

“you okay?” he asks, pulling out as gently as he can and helping you roll over when your trembling arms make it clear you can’t do it on your own.

“mhmm,” you pull yourself up until you’re nose to nose with him. zoro holds still as you scatter kisses across his face like stardust. his temple, his scar, the corner of his mouth. there’s no order, no pattern he can discern to the affection you bestow but he accepts it the way all blessings should be received. with silent gratitude.

“nothing hurts?” 

“no. but you’re carrying me to the bath.”

“okay.”

you tuck yourself into his side, reaching up to idly roll his earrings between your fingers, “and washing my hair.”

“okay.”

“and i’m gonna wash your hair.”

“okay.”

“say something else.”

he thinks for a moment, thinks of all he could never put to words and lets them stay as thoughts. instead, he meets your eyes and settles on a simple truth, “you’re beautiful.”

a smile, radiant and bright, breaks across your face. what happens, he wonders, when a demon is the cause of something as divine as your smile? it’s a question he doesn’t mind spending his life searching the answer to. 

dedicated to: mah wife @katslutski and the loml @saotoru

#zoro smut #one piece smut #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #god this has been in my drafts for so long

[bookshelf-dust]

baby love, my baby love

gif by @corrodedcherry

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 1,880

warnings: swearing, reader had a not so good day, some hair washing, reader is nude in a non-sexual way, casual intimacy, lots of lovey-dovey things

a/n: hello! i am still very tentatively getting back into writing, but i wanted to write something sweet and comforting and soft and all those things. and eddie is the best provider of all that. this is so cute i almost made myself nauseous. lemme know what you think!! happy reading!!! <333 lots of love

————

“Where’s my girl at?”

Eddie’s voice rings throughout your small apartment, echoing slightly due to it not being fully furnished. His tone is almost giddy, words taking on a little twang after having spent the day working with Wayne. 

You bury your face deeper into your pillow, fighting a smile at the way he speaks to you. From your place on the bed, you hear his keys smack the wall as he hangs them up, hear his boots thudding across the kitchen tiles as he makes his way to you. 

When Eddie appears in the doorway to your shared bedroom, his arms are raised, fingers working to quickly tie his hair up in a knot. His biceps flex with the movement, drawing your eye to his pale skin. A brilliant smile spreads across his face upon seeing you. 

“Hey, bug,” he says.

You flush. You never thought you’d allow someone to call you love bug, let alone any variation of it. You certainly didn’t think you’d like it. It’s who’s saying it that’s converted you.

You’re laying on your stomach, hands crushed under your cheek. You try to smile back at him, but it comes out much less enthusiastic than normal. It’s a very tired gesture. 

Eddie notices, kicking off his shoes and crouching before you. “What’s the matter sweet girl? You’re wearing your outside clothes still, and you look pretty pitiful.”

At least he’s honest.

You blink and let your eyes flutter shut. “Long day. Headache. Upset.”

He brings his hand to your face, brushing his fingers over your temples. “Oh, I’m sorry, bug. I know you just wanna feel all better. Is that it?”

You nod, eyes still closed. He starts to laugh playfully just because of how pitiful you really do look, at how small and scrunched up you’ve made yourself. When he kisses your cheek, you feel his smile against your skin. It makes you beam, despite how you feel. The tingle Eddie’s lips leave behind makes it seem like the first time no matter how long it's been. You’re all soft for him, and there’s no denying it. But hell, he’s the same way. 

“How about…” he trails off, rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, tickling your lower back where your sweater has ridden up. “How about I take care of you? Run you a bath, for starters? I know you like that.”

Your eyes open, happy to think about how nice it would feel to sink your tired body into a hot basin full of bubbles. “Okay, Teddy.”

“Yeah? C’mere then,” Eddie says gently, holding his hands out to encourage you to sit up. You slowly push yourself away from the mattress, and he easily pulls you to stand. “I’ll get the water warmed up for you.” 

You give him a poor little salute, making him laugh, and then stick your fingers through his belt loop so you don’t have to do as much on the short walk to the bathroom. When you get there, Eddie bends to cut the water on and push the drain plug down. You wrap your arms around his waist and fold yourself against his warm back. You close your eyes once again, hearing him squirt a hefty amount of bubble bath into the tub. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t flood the bathroom.

The plastic top clicks shut and Eddie rises, grabbing hold of your hands and spinning around in your grip. 

“Don’t like seein’ you all drained, baby,” he says. Eddie’s hands cradle your face, long and pale fingers beginning to rub at your temples. It feels so nice to have that pressure be pushed away, to feel his body so close to yours. At this rate, you’ll forget you even had a headache. 

“Wanna tell me about it?” Eddie asks. “Or do you just want to have a chill night?”

You open your eyes and push up on your toes to kiss his nose. “The latter,” you say. 

He chuckles, knowing you never used that term until you started reading Jane Austen. 

“M’kay, bug. That works for me.” His eyes twinkle mischievously. “You want a kiss? I think you deserve a good one.”

That gets you to practically melt. I fucking love this woman, Eddie thinks. He feels breathless each time you look at him that way. You look at him like he hung the stars, like he is your knight in shining armor. He kisses you in that way that thanks you for making him feel so loved. So cherished.

You thread your hands in Eddie’s hair, fingers pulling at the chunk at the nape of his neck where it’s most sensitive. His mouth is warm against yours. He smiles at your playfulness, breaking away to kiss both cheeks. 

He bends and drags a finger through the water. “It’ll be plenty warm enough in a second, bug.”

You give him a tired thank you squeeze as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“Need help undressing?” he inquires, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. 

You gently backhand his stomach, watching as he feigns severe injury. “Perv,” you joke. 

Eddie sits down on the toilet seat lid so that he can be prepared to turn the water off when he deems the tub full enough for you. Really he’d just like to see you surrounded by a huge pile of bubbles for his own amusement, but also because he knows it’ll be the thing to coax that pure, joyous laugh out of you. The sound he’d bottle and keep on his nightstand if he could.

You remove the little bit of makeup you’d been wearing with a cotton pad, sighing in relief to have it all off. You take out your earrings and slip off your rings, setting them in an ashtray on the counter you’ve been repurposing ever since Eddie decided to cut back on his smoking.

You take off each of your socks, one hand gripping the countertop for balance. As you slip your belt off, Eddie finishes preparing your bath and turns to face you. He holds his arms out, ready to collect your dirty clothes and accessories so that he can put them in their rightful places. 

He takes your belt from you only to be cheeky, snapping the thick leather as loud as he can manage. He makes himself laugh. 

You turn to the side when you unbutton your jeans, flushing and shy at his attention even after all this time. Even knowing how beautiful he finds your body. How much he loves how soft you are. After all, your body allows you to live. It allows you to spend time with him, and that is all he’ll ever ask for. It doesn’t matter to him what state your body is in because it is yours. And you are his. 

Eddie smiles watching you shimmy out of your snug jeans. You hand him your pants and t-shirt, now only in your bra and underwear. You don’t give yourself the time to be self-conscious, longing for the hot bath water. You turn and quickly unclasp your bra. Eddie playfully flicks your bum. It always deserves appreciation in his eyes. 

When you hand him the last of your items, he presses the sweetest kiss to your tummy, thumbs rubbing at the indentations left on your chest from your bras underwire, as if he can make them go away just by sheer will. 

“I love you, bug,” Eddie says, looking up at you with those watery doe eyes. His kisses your stomach again.

“I love you same, Teddy. Now let me take my bath. It’s rather chilly in this house, don’t you think? I refuse to freeze.”

Eddie laughs to himself as he walks off, taking your clothes to the hamper and storing your bra and belt elsewhere. He never could’ve imagined a world where preparing a bath for his partner would make him as happy as it does. 

————

Eddie is kneeling on the bathroom floor. Your back is pressed against the side of the tub, and he’s washing your hair. Well, really he’s already given it the scrub and cleanse that it needed, now he’s just trying to make weird shapes out of it. 

After you’d sat in the warm water until your toes pruned without actually bathing, he jokingly offered to do your hair while you washed your body. 

You hadn’t even thought about it. You were enjoying the way the bubbles came up to your chin, the way you were completely encapsulated in the safety of them. The way Eddie sat there on the rug, telling you about his day. About the different things he’d fixed on which cars—nothing you understood in any fashion, but something you always wanted to hear about.

“You could make good money doing this, you know. You’re very talented,” you quip, scrubbing your calf with a washcloth. 

Eddie snorts, kissing your wet shoulder blade. “What? Give head massages?”

You ring out your rag, having completed your washing ritual and made sure everything got the attention it deserves. 

“Mhm. That felt so good.” 

You pull the drain plug up, letting the water out. Eddie stands and acts as though his back is going to give out on him. You quickly turn the shower on, just so you can make sure you got all the conditioner out of your hair and feel completely clean. Eddie has never done this rinsing routine after a bath, but loves to see you do your little happy dance when you’re all clean and wrapped up in a towel.

He holds out a hand as you step over the rim of the tub, bowing for added effect. “How was your bath, m’lady?”

You lead the way out of the bathroom, on a search for pajamas. “I’d say it was the best bath I’ve ever had the pleasure of taking, good sir.”

You hug your fuzzy towel to your chest, pushing up on your tiptoes to kiss Eddie’s full lips. He blushes at the eye contact you’re giving him. He knows how it makes you nervous, but getting to have all of your attention like that makes him tingly.

“Thank you for helping me, Teddy.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” 

You turn to the side, gripping a round, wooden handle and pulling open your top dresser drawer. Eddie kisses your cheek. Sometimes you think Eddie’s kisses are lifesaving. They’ve surely contributed to your stability. They’re healing. And so is the way he cares for the people he loves. The way he so effortlessly does things just because he only wants to see you happy.

Eddie ends up picking out your pajamas while you pick out his. You’re in your own bottoms, but one of his Iron Maiden t-shirts. You told him you should match, so he pointed you in the direction of another, and you made sure to choose pants for him that had red in them, just like yours. 

Before you can sit down on your shared bed, Eddie takes your hand and leans down to whisper in your ear. His chin brushes your jaw, lips parting in a bright grin before the words ever leave his mouth. 

“Now, what do you think about going to get milkshakes?”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

#savannah’s fics #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader fluff

[rafeandonlyrafe]

good boy

words: 1.5k

warnings: established relationship, marriage, protective!rafe, (guard??) dog, fluffy

“rafe, it's literally two weeks. ill be fine!” you say, folding his clothes, having dumped out his suitcase onto the bed to reorganize it when you saw how he packed it, just chucking things in.

“two weeks where im a hours away from you by plane.” rafe sighs, watching you carefully repack his suitcase as he pouts on the bed, not wanting to leave you.

“you know, cameron, i lived a whole 20 years before meeting you.” you point out, knowing while rafes concern comes from his love for you, it will completely overwhelm what is supposed to be an enjoyable family vacation and leave him miserable the whole time.

“i don't see why you can't just come with me.” rafe groans, flopping back against the bed. you smile and round the bed to where his head is resting against the pillows. you press a smooch to his forehead, rubbing your hand over his head, petting at his soft hair.

“baby, it's just for your family. you know that.” it's not like you don't want to accompany rafe to a tropical paradise, but you would feel way too awkward intruding.

“what if something happens to you? and im not here to protect you? id be the worst fiancee ever.” rafe grabs your head from rubbing his head, holding up the ring on your finger for him to admire.

“nothing will happen. nothing ever happens here.” you laugh. you're not sure what crime is like on the other side of the island, but your neighborhood is incredibly safe.

“im still worried.” rafe sighs. “you in that big house all alone.”

“im gonna spend 99% of the time wedding planning.” you hum, thinking about the tabs pulled open on your laptop of different venues, dresses, and color palettes.

that finally gets rafe to crack a smile. “can't wait to marry you.” rafe says earnestly. he only proposed a month ago, some people would say that you were too young to get married, but rafe knew when you came into his life and turned everything around for him that he had to put a ring on your finger.

“i can't wait either.” you bend down to press a kiss to rafes lips. “but seriously we need to talk about your packing before we tie the knot, why do you only have one pair of shorts packed for an island?”

-- two years later --

“remember those two weeks you left before we were engaged? it's not really much longer. you should go, baby. it's a good opportunity.” you are sat on rafes lap, back pressed against his chest as he scrolls through his email.

“it's just work, and it's a whole lot longer than two weeks. i don't want to leave you here alone for over a month.” rafe closes out of the email, making you sigh.

“i was fine for those two weeks, ill be fine now. promise. i think you should go! it's a big conference.” you turn sideways on his lap so you can look rafe in the eye. “besides, it's still six months away. plenty of time to prepare.”

“prepare?” rafe raises his eyebrows. “so you'd be good with security cams around the whole house and personal security?”

“cameras on the outside and hell no. you don't want some random guys watching after me do you?”

you can see the gears turning in rafes head as he frowns. “yeah, you're right. no men.”

“so you'll go?” you smile. rafe closes his eyes for a brief moment before nodding.

“yay!” you squeal. you're not excited to be left alone, and you love being around your husband more than anything, but the work trip is a big deal, and you know he'll be kicking himself if he misses out on such a good opportunity.

--

“rafey?” you call, eyes sweeping across the living room as you enter your shared home, a head full of fresh highlights.

“hubby?” you call out, continuing deeper into the house until you see movement through the glass door leading towards the backyard, but it's not the typical roll of the ocean against the shore.

“rafe?” you question as you open the door. you expected to find him in his office, where he was before you left for the beauty salon.

rafe smiles, waiting for your eyes to look down, and when you finally see what is sitting at rafes feet, you let out a gasp.

“oh my gosh!” you squeal. 

“wifey, meet max. our new australian shepherd.” rafe gives a command with his hand, that has max running towards you.

you sink to your knees as the young dog excitedly greets you, licking at your hands as you pet him.

“hi maxey.” you coo at the dog, you're guessing around two years old, with max being full size but still having some young features.

“rafe, you didn't tell me you were getting us a dog!” you stand up, max following close behind as you rush to give your husband a hug.

“i have a confession.” rafe says, his hands looped around your waist. you frown, worried that max was just a foster and you'd have to give him back, or that something went wrong with the adoption. you often talked about getting pets before getting married, but wanted to wait a little bit, and then time just slipped away and before you knew it, you were over a year into your marriage. 

“what?” you whine out.

“ive been working with a trainer behind your back. i wanted to make sure max was ready before we chose him for sure. he knows commands, me, your scent, our house. everything. he knows his primary responsibility is to protect you and our property.”

“oh my gosh!” you slap rafe in the chest, surprised that he was able to keep such a secret from you. “how could you do all that without telling me?” you laugh, not angry, but surprised that he was able to orchestrate everything.

you don't wait for rafe to explain how he was able to find so much time, stepping out of his hold to kneel down and continue petting max.

“we have some more training sessions so he can learn with you as well.” rafe further explains, also leaning down to pet max behind the ears as he pants excitedly at his new owners.

--

“what is it maxy?” you ask as he lifts his head up, looking around the living room. “you miss your daddy?”

you sigh as max lets out a sad sounding huff, petting your hand over his head, scratching at his neck which you know is his favorite. rafe has been gone on his business trip for a month now, with only a week and a half left until he returns home.

max suddenly jumps off the couch, eyes on the backyard. he lets out a bark, claws clicking on the hardwood floor as he moves to the glass door. he lets out another bark, making you stand.

“what is it boy?” you ask, looking out the window.

max lets out another bark, this one the familiar territorial bark that he’s practiced in his training with you and rafe. you know the only reason that rafe feels safe enough leaving you home is that max is a great guard dog.

you get closer to the window, squinting your eyes to try and see in the darkness when you sudden jump back with a scream as a squirrel runs across your patio, causing max to bark and run along the glass door until it scatters into the yard.

“holy shit, maxy, you scared the shit out of me.” you press your hand to your chest before kneeling down, scratching behind his ears. “it was just a squirrel.” you reassure him with a pat.

your heart rate is just starting to calm down from the fright when you hear the front door open. max instantly takes off with you following after him, letting out a sigh of relief when you see rafe standing in the foyer.

“baby.” he sighs happily, setting his suitcase down as you run into his arms, pressing your lips together. “i missed you so much.”

“i missed you too, what are you doing home though?” you ask, giving him another kiss before he can answer.

“they didn’t need me for the rest of the week, decided to get home to my lady.” max barks, making rafe lean down to pet him, still holding you up. “and my good boy too, of course.”

“so happy to have you home.” you nuzzle your nose into rafes neck, inhaling the familiar scent that you missed so much. 

“happy to be back with you, wifey.” rafe says, carrying you further into the house.

“oh, and you will be very happy to know maxy did a great job protecting me while you were gone.” you tell rafe. it mostly involved max barking in warning at any delivery guy or car turning around in your driveway, but his presence did help making you feel safer and less loney.

“hopefully not too good.” rafe huffs as he looks at your pet. “can’t have him replacing me now.”

you giggle, surprised rafe can manage to be jealous of your dog. “never.” you swear, pressing another kiss to his lips.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk

#rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe drabble #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe x oc #rafe cameron blurb

[rileysluvr]

something really short cause i have nothing else. könig nsfw

just imagine a situation where you’re forced to sit on könig’s lap because there’s less room than needed on the small military aircraft due to a field emergency, so you opt for his space because he’s the closest person to you out of the bunch and not to mention the largest, kindest, most comfortable looking one. he’s so hesitant at first but it’s all kept internal because he could never say no to you, let alone stand to watch you on another man’s lap for the next two hours. he begins to question if he prioritized the correct things, however, when he ultimately fails at suppressing his hard-on after just barely managing for the first half hour of the flight.

you feel his dick practically digging into your ass through the multiple layers of cargo pants, and he knows his prayers for discretion have gone unanswered when you adjust your hips against his lap. the feel of it surprises you—you want to laugh, why now?—but the entire concept of it does not come as a shock; it only nourishes the given cockiness in you. you’d have to be a blind mutt not to notice the way he looks at you, shying away when he thinks you’ve caught him staring. silly guy. the hood doesn’t hide all, könig.

“scheiße, du schweinehund,” he breathes defeatedly to himself, eyes squeezed shut in humility. he’s the only mutt here, really. he can’t imagine how pink his cheeks have gone, except for the fact that they feel like they’ve been repeatedly grazed by a blowtorch you hold. he musters up a straight voice, yet his words just barely break past a whisper; “…forgive me.” he grits his teeth and bites his tongue, “gott—i am not in the correct headspace right now, i-i am so sorry.”

you giggle that same laugh that had his knees threatening to buckle in on most days. “it’s okay, könig, really,” you tell him, so convincing and so sweet that he has no choice but to believe it to be true. still, he’s beyond mortified. you hum after a few seconds, “more than okay.” he sucks in a sharp breath. you don’t need to see him to know what sort of affect you’re having on him, arms crossed over your chest while his are unsteady and sweaty at his sides. he’s so awkward, it’s adorable.

like this, you can truly absorb all of him like you never could on an average day; he’s soft spoken off the field and with a deeper drawl, and far more reserved. that manly, post-mission musk of his, apparent through the close proximity, is only insanely attractive. and he’s just so. fucking. big. you lean further back against his frame, head resting on his broad shoulder, and you can feel his heart beating at his ribs against your upper back. with everyone else chatting amongst themselves or already deep into their sleep, you wouldn’t mind teasing him a bit.

“i actually think it’s really cute,” you add, with another slight of a giggle, of course. “and hot.” you bite and bite and he groans so lowly every time, something almost of a broken whimper, you’d say. you wiggle your hips a bit, not terribly noticeable to the outside world but he swears your every action comes with a bite of an aphrodisiac. you smirk and he hears it, right past the nonchalance in your voice; “and quite impressive, i’d say.”

you hear a whine die in his throat—it’s fucking whorish, and needy—along with another swear, and in an instant, you’ve made up your mind to take him out of the public eye once you land and show him just how impressive he really is.

#cod mw2 #könig #könig x reader #könig x fem reader #könig x female reader #könig smut #könig mw2 #könig cod

[sturncrazy]

CABINFEVER:

Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

(anyone else green)

warnings: SMUT!! nsfw 18+ (loss of virginity, unprotected + no pull out…assume ur on birth control)

authors note: love a little sweet smut matt moment 🫶 also imagine the world wasn’t falling apart and there was still snow 🤪 HOPE U GUYS LIKE THIS ONE!!

summary: you and a group of your friends rent an airbnb cabin up in the mountains for a winter get away, but it’s short on beds. You settle for a bench and Matt takes the couch next to you, but things heat up when you get cold…

word count: 2,915 W

—————————————————————————

“HOLY FUCK! it’s FREEZING out” yelled Nick slamming the door behind him. He was the last one inside the cabin and join the rest of you in stomping the snow off your shoes and hanging up various layers of winter-wear. You and a group of 7 of your friends decided to rent an airbnb up in the mountains in New Hampshire for a week to have a cozy vacation. You planned to sled, go on winter walks, make cookies and cozy drinks, play games, and just enjoy being together away from the rest of the world. The only problem was not all of you going had a budget like the triplets, Larray, and Madi. even though they offered to cover for the rest of you, it didn’t seem fair. so you settled on a slightly more quaint cabin instead of a big mansion. the catch was that there were only three bedrooms. You were always easy going and determined that everyone else be happy, so you had made peace with the fact that you’d probably end up on a couch long ago.

“so who’s gonna be living room buddies with me, huh?” you questioned.

“guess that would be me” said Matt, with a sheepish smile.

No surprise, really. Matt was an angel to everyone, so of course he’d be the first to say he’d take the undesirable sleeping spot. you grinned back at him, maybe a little too much. You’d been close to the triplets since you were kids, but Matt had always been your favorite. You related to his quieter side and always had a soft spot for him. A soft spot that went deeper than you wanted to admit in the last few years. Matt was always good looking, but lately something felt different…even though you’d never tell him that.

“i can live with that” you attempted to joke. The living room was beautiful, but large and drafty. there were a few armchairs, but only one oversized couch. next to it was a big window that had a little nook fitted with pillows.

“you take the couch, yn” Matt said, gesturing with his head.

“wha—no way. then where will you sleep?”

“I dunno i’ll figure it out don’t worry bout it. I’ll grab a beanbag or make a pile on the floor” he said blowing you off

“Nuh-uh. no way. you take the couch, i’ll sleep on that window thing”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah a hundred percent”

“Mmmm okay, but if you wanna switch at any point just tell me okay seriously” the genuine concern in his wide blue eyes made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. truth be told, you really didn’t mind this set up because you’d be sleeping just a few feet away from him.

“Deal” you smiled back at him.

The group of you had a perfect evening. it was like something out of a hallmark movie, but by 2am everyone was going to sleep. Matt showered upstairs, which gave you time to get ready for bed and throw on your lame excuse for sleepwear—an oversized tshirt that hung to just above your knees. you’d never wished you’d overpacked and brought shorts more. you tried to cover up your exposed skin with blankets as you heard creaking from the steps. Matt trotted down in flannel pants and a black tank, hair still damp and clinging to his face from the shower. seeing him like that made your throat grow dry.

“Y’tired?” Matt asked, arranging his pillows on the couch so that his head would be by yours, your bodies creating a right angle on their separate resting spots.

“eh, not really. you?”

“nah, not so much. bit of a night owl lately, i guess.” he said, sitting down and beginning to rummage through his bag. you laughed.

“name a time in your life you’ve ever been a morning person?” you teased

“hey shhh i could be if i tried.” he shook his bag vigorously

“shit. think i forgot my phone charger”

“oh i have one, you can use it” you said hopping up to grab your stuff. you strode across the room towards your suitcase without thinking, but suddenly felt heat on the back of your neck like you were being watched. you glanced back at Matt and just barely caught him staring at your bare legs before he quickly looked away. you’d completely forgotten about your choice of outfit and felt embarrassment flush your cheeks.

“here y’go” you said shoving the wires in his direction, avoiding his eyes.

“uh thanks” he said, with equal avoidance. you reached to turn off the last light in the room in hopes that would drown out the awkwardness. Before you knew it the two of you were laughing and chatting away in the strained moonlight leaking in from the window. This went on for about 20 minutes before the chill coming from outside started to get to you. your teeth chattered slightly. mid sentence, Matt halted.

“what’s wrong?”

“oh nothing, just a little breezy here, it’s fine”

“what? you can’t sleep there then! you’ll get sick!” his protective nature was borderline heart melting.

“Matt c’mon. I’m not that weak, i’ll be fine. I’m not making you sleep here”

“Then share the couch with me at least”

his offer caught you off guard and you paused for a second, processing before answering.

“you sure?” you asked, unsteadily. another small moment of silence. was he regretting what he’d offered?

“yeah, of course” You detected a small crack in his voice.

“I don’t wanna crowd you—“ he cut you off

“y/n it’s fine seriously, just c’mhere. it’s just me, don’t be weird.” he answered, sounding almost more like he was trying to convince himself than you. you crept over to the couch. Matt was on his side, already holding his blanket up with his arm to give you a spot to slide into. at first you laid down face to face with him.

“hey” he said quietly, inches from you. you smiled up at him. it made your heart race to see him from this angle, this close. you were sure he could hear your heartbeat if you stayed like this a second longer, so you rolled over so your back was to him. matt made a funny noise, almost like he was clearing his throat. your knees hung off the couch slightly, so you backed up to not fall off. Matt let out a strained cough.

“Matt are you okay? you sound like—“ you started to turn your head to face him, and inadvertently twisted your hips against his body. you felt his hand latch onto your waist, halting it. he winced and let out a small hiss

“y/n please” tumbled out of his lips, his whole body going stiff.

“Matt what’s wrong? I—“ suddenly you became away of a hardness pressing against your lower back and ass. your breathing hitched. Matt was hard. and you could feel it. Matt was hard and was pressing against you, hell it had been caused by you.

“oh my god” you whispered.

“fuck y/n i’m so sorry—holy shit. this is awful. i feel disgusting. i never wanna make you uncomfortable i—“ he began to babble sounding on the verge of tears

“Matt no—“ he rolled onto his back looking up at the ceiling. you turned onto your side to face him.

“No, y/n. this is so bad-oh god. i was worried this would happen, i mean being anywhere near you i’d worry about that, but i thought i could control myself and fuck i’m so sorry���

“wait what do you mean you worried?”

“come on, y/n. you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen. of course i’d worry, but you’re also one of my best friends so—“

“you think i’m beautiful?” matt paused and looked at you in the eye.

“are you joking, y/n?” you shook your head.

he took a deep breath before continuing.

“I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world” you exhaled rockily, scanning his eyes.

“and i can’t believe this is how i’m telling you that or i did anything to make you feel—“

“Matty, stop” you said, putting a hand lightly to his chest. it heaved at your touch.

“you didn’t do anything wrong, at all. i just never knew you saw me the way the way i see you”

“y’mean you—?” you bit your lip and smiled at him, nodding. he let out an exhale of relief and excitement and smiled back at you. he inched closer to your face, hesitantly.

“can i kiss you?” you nuzzled your nose slightly against his.

“yes, Matt” he leaned the rest of the way in and gently pressed his warm pillowy lips against yours. the feeling was better than you could’ve ever imagined. he pulled away, not wanting to seem too eager or pushy, and waited for you. you glanced from his eyes to his mouth before pushing back against him. this kiss was different from the last. there was fire and passion to it. your lips began to meld together, creating a rhythm as his hands reached for your waist. you wrapped an arm around his neck and ran your hand through his hair, which resulted in a huffing of air from his mouth into yours. his tongue slid against your bottom lip, asking for permission, which you immediately granted. you pressed your lower half against his. he grunted and squeezed your hip. smiling against your lips he rasped out

“careful there, problem from earlier is not exactly gone yet” your stomach flipped

“good” you breathed out, pressing your bodies flush again. he looked at you wide eyed, his pupils dilating, before diving in for the heaviest kiss yet. you lifted your leg up slightly, wrapping it around him. the move caused your shirt to slide up to the top of your hip. matt ran his hand up your thigh and gripped your ass causing you to let out a small whine. he bit at your lip slightly and used this new hold on your lower half to move himself between your legs further and on top of you. he pulled away from you to take off his shirt and you felt heat electrify your body at the sight of him uncovered in the weak blueish light. he smiled at you shyly before kissing you again. one strong hand began to trail over the sensitive skin of your stomach, up your shirt, sending ripples of buzzing through your body as the tips of his hand approached your braless chest. Matt ran his fingers delicately over your nipples, hardening at his slightly cold touch. you shuddered.

“can i take this off?” he said, tugging at the hem. you nodded vigorously and helped him pull it over your head, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. you fought the urge to cover yourself as his eyes engulfed the sight of you.

“god you’re so perfect” he almost moaned out. you giggled and tightened your legs around his lower half, encouraging him back down to you gently. the feeling of his warm bare chest against yours made you let out a sigh. he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, breathing hot warm air against your sensitive skin before gently sucking and pulling through his teeth. you whimpered into him, wrapping your hands back into his hair. he retaliated by starting to grind his hips against your heat, the feeling of his hard on painfully present. your two most desperate spots only separated by your underwear and his pj bottoms.

“Matt—“ you moaned out

“hmmmm?” he hummed into your neck. you needed him in ways you couldn’t explain. you squirmed beneath him. he pulled away to look at you and raise an eyebrow.

“what is it, beautiful?” he cooed, making you flustered. you pushed your hips back up at him, unable to come up with words.

“ohh i see” he chuckled out. you felt a flash of embarrassment and tried to cover your hands with your face. he grabbed your wrists lightly and lowered them.

“Want me to make you feel good, ma?” he said softly into your ear as he dragged his hand down your stomach and to the waistband of your underwear. you whimpered, desire crying out for contract between your legs. he lowered his fingers over the thin cloth that covered your pussy and dragged them up and down, giving you a teasing amount of friction.

“more, Matty, please” you cried out. he gingerly pushed the fabric aside and ran his fingers along your dripping folds

“god you’re so wet” he whispered out in awe, looking down at you , hungrily. he seemed almost in a trace, but the torment was too much for you. you grabbed his wrist and guided his hand, positioning his finger tips at your entrance. his breathing shallowed as he looked up at you while inserting his digits deep into your core. you became a mess as Matt continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them upwards expertly.

“fuck i could watch you like this forever” he panted

“mmmm feels—ss—so good, matt”

“god you don’t know what you’re doing to me, ma” your walls clenched at the thought of his hard length. you reached down between your bodies and palmed at his crotch. he let out a groan. his impressively large hard on throbbed under your touch, straining against his pants.

“oh my god, y/n” he mumbled, closing his eyes. you’d never seen anyone look so sexy before.

“Matt, I want you” you gasped, without thought. his eyes flickered open, his pupils were blown.

“Are—are you sure?” he said, struggling to breathe.

“I’m sure” Matt reached to untie his drawstring. you watched him, closely, as he loosed his pants and lowered them. your mouth watered at the sight of his large rock hard dick slapping against his stomach, the tip already dripping precum. he leaned back over you and began to line himself up with your entrance. nerves shot through your body.

“wait matt”

“what? whats wrong? should i stop?” he said, looking up at you with worry

“No, no definitely not, i—i just—i haven’t done this before?”

“Oh” he said smiling with relief

“Are you sure you want to? we can wait i’m fine to wait. i don’t wanna do anything you’re not ready for”

“NO!” you said a little too eagerly “I really want to” you finished shyly

“Okay” he chuckled. He realigned himself and gave you a gentle kiss

“This is probably gonna hurt a bit, okay? we can stop any time you want to” you nodded and he began to push his tip slowly into your entrance. you cried out at the feeling of him stretching your insides so much. he paused for a moment.

“do you want to stop?” he said sweetly

“No. keep going” you said wincing. he pushed himself to the base of his cock and moaned at feeling you completely around him. he slowly began to slide himself in and out of your pussy. the pain started to turn into pleasure.

“go faster, matty, please” he listened and began to pick up his pace, creating a delicious rhythm and hitting your sweet spot deep inside of you with each thrust. you let out a string of curses and cries at the sensation.

“fuck you feel so good around my dick, baby”

“oh god don’t stop”

“you like that, sweet girl”

“yes—fuck yes—i like it so much”

“you’re so fucking perfect, princess. god i love being inside of you”

“Matt—oh my god—fuck—I—“ you felt a tightening in the pit of your stomach as your buildup started to reach its peak.

“you gonna cum, sweetheart?” Matt lowered one of his hands to press on your lower stomach, where he was deep inside of you. your vision began to blur.

“Let go, baby. Cum for for me” your hearing buzzed and you saw flashes of white as you came undone. Your walls clenched around Matt’s cock causing his thrusts to become sloppy.

“fuck, gorgeous i’m close—where do you want me to—“ he panted out

“just keep going, matty” you cooed still coming down from your high

“wh—you-you sure?” he questioned fighting off his release

“yes, don’t stop. keep going for me”

“oh my ffu—god-yes—anything for you” he stuttered

“fuck baby i’m gonna cum”

“yeah? cum inside me, matty, please”

“OH GOD FUCK Y/N”

“i wanna feel you cum”

“OH—IM CUMMING—OH FUCK—“ Matt cried out thrusting into you, wildly. He halted deep inside you as he released hot spurts of his cum into your core. he collapsed, panting heavily. after a moment, he pulled out and quickly leaned back down to give you a kiss before reaching to grab you your shirt. you smiled at each other, sheepishly, as you got redressed. he pulled you tightly against him and ran his hand down the back of your head, soothingly.

“How was that?”

“Perfect” you mumbled into his chest, breathing him in.

“Yeah?” he chuckled into your hair. you nodded.

“I’d say so too.” he said.

“I’ve always dreamed of getting to hold you like this” he whispered

“really?”

“mhm”

“me too” he paused for a moment

“what would you think of maybe being something where we could always be like this?”

you pulled away to look at him and he grinned at you. you pulled him in for the biggest kiss you muster.

—————————————————————————

why am i gonna cry? WHY CANT THE MEN I MAKE UP IN MY HEAD BE REAL.

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x yn #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x yn #christopher sturniolo smutt #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #fanfic smut #christopher sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x you

[asmosmainhoe]

MC's eyes glow when they use magic

Hello ☆ I hope u're having a nice day :D I had one request for the Obey Me brothers kek, their reaction to an MC whose eyes glow when they use magic, and when they use the demons powers their eyes change color to the sin color (Ex. Red for Beel, Blue for Luci, etc) and it feels as if they connect with MC in a deeper level? Sorry if its too weird or specific! I've been enjoying reading your writings 🤗

-anon

Note: I'm so sorry that it's so short, love! I've been so busy preparing things for the holidays since I'm visiting my home country :'D

Gender: neutral

Warnings: heavy language

Lucifer

He loves the fact that your eyes glow in the color of his sin when you channel his magic

It fills him with pride to see how that makes the connection between you two so obvious for others

That's right. That's his power

"I must say that blue suits you wonderfully."

He's very casual about it, but he's definitely doing a small dancy dance of victory behind closed doors

Mammon

Of course he is head over heels for your glowing eyes when you channel his magic! They basically look like the shiniest coins he has ever seen!

Besides it makes it more than obvious that you guys have a pact together

"Fuck yea! That's my human over there!"

Please use his power so that people know you're fucking shit up with his help

Leviathan

Levi is absolutely geeking out over the fact that your fucking eyes glow when you use magic

I mean if that doesn't scream main character vibes then I don't know what does

He's so going to use that as inspiration for rpg's or headcanons/fanfictions in the future

And then they glow in his sin's color too when you channel his magic? It's so strangelt intimate that he can't help, but blush

Satan

Since he has read about it he's not really surprised by that, but it's still a huge difference to see it with his own eyes

Especially when he feels you channeling his powers and your eyes light up in his color

Seeing that makes Satan feel like someone punched him in the guts, but in a good way? If that makes sense?

Asmodeus

Your eyes are literally glowing in not only his magics colors, but it's also his absolute favorite one as well!

"MC, you look fantastic when you use my powers! Absolutely stunning!"

Asmo can't stop gushing about it and he always compliments you for an hour straight whenever it happens

This is what others must feel like when he's seducing them with his eyes

Beelzebub

Imagine you have this angry, skilled sorcerer person absolutely wreck your shit, because you wronged them, but their eyes also glow red?! How intimidating is that?

Unlike the person who is suffering under your magic, Beel is completely mesmerized

He can't find the right words to describe how wonderful you look with his color right now

It makes him forget about his hunger

Belphegor

Belphie is so smug about it and can and will rub it under everyone's nose

"Did MC use your magic? No, bitch. Their eyes were purple so sit down."

It's just a very nice and absolute confirmation for the fact that he is your favorite and that his magic was the most useful one to you in that moment

His brothers will never hear the end of it, because he keeps casually mentioning it at every given opportunity

---

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me brothers #obey me x reader #obey me luci #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me luci x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me beel #obey me beel x reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor

[yzashaven]

2023 KINKTOBER︰10﹒01 / 10﹒02

꒰ —♡ B R E E D I N G ﹒ PART 1 ꒱

EVENT MASTERLIST !

FEATURING ! ayato, xiao, diluc, kuronushi x fem!reader

WARNINGS ! breeding obviously, shibari, some anal, cum overflow :0, overstimulation, praising, think that's all + VERY SHORT HELP

NOTE ! like only one of these were proofread LMAO anyway~ splitting this into 2 because i couldn't make the time to finish all 8 of the characters 😭 + THANK YOU FOR 700?!?!?! + sorry to those i couldn't tag :( and for posting this late omg

event taglist— @yukiitaooo @scara6 @peakalatus @kanaedd @returningluv @im-the-ruler-here @scarafixation @kateybuggi @hanni7 @asimpforpeople @ju1yyyzzz @saturnsapothecary @alexiassleeping @cheeze-noo @supercoolusernameomg @shining_dhei @uchihaeirin @black-rxse @3herri-berri @anon-eu @gojoswife201 @abeitriz @chlebek1 @mechanical-lily @breadybuu @dawning-bliss @poisonedmoonl1ght @scaraismybbgreal @nothingfuninthislife @hellithides @eunchaeluvr @doumastip @pandash @cuntz0ne @zomzomb1e @bitchylillyrose @apocalypticchimera @wolfiafan10 @zxdksimpo

—KAMISATO AYATO

he's a very family oriented man, you're well aware of that, so of course it's no surprise that breeding is one of the commissioner's top kinks. even just the mere thought of filling up your cute little cunt with his seed is enough to drive him insane.

"you're gonna give me an heir, yeah? right, my love?" ayato seductively whispered into your ear as you tiredly nod your head in approval. he has been pounding into you nonstop for the past 2 hours or so, filling you up with his cum over and over again, making sure that it'll reach your womb. "you feel so good~ this is your reward for being such a good girl for me, so take it. take it all~" his thrusts begin to quicken, urging yet another orgasm for him and yourself before grabbing your ankles to bring your legs over onto his shoulders; allowing him to push his dick even deeper than it was already reaching previously.

"fuck—i'm sorry for pushing your limits, sweetheart, but i won't waste my chance in finally getting to breed you real nice~"

—XIAO

him being a yaksha and practically spending his whole life fighting; xiao never really got to know or experience much when it comes to intimacy. but god, the moment you stepped into his life, it became the thing he couldn't live without.

"o-one more, please..." he groans out, thrusting deep into you at a slow pace, his tip kissing at your cervix ever so slightly. your whimpers and pleas falling onto deaf ears as his gaze was fixated on the way your thighs trembled under his touch as his hands kept your legs spread wide just for him, drunk on the sight of his cock disappearing within your warmth with each buck of his hips. an obvious squelching sound could be heard along with the mix of your fluids overflowing from the sides, "if i pull out, it'll all go to waste, won't it?" xiao mutters out, pulling back until only the head of his cum coated cock remained, just to slam back inside and have you scream his name for the nth time that evening.

"this won't be enough, baby... need to fill you up some more~"

—DILUC RAGNVINDR

trust me when i say that breeding is one of his top kinks, probably around the top 3, i'm sure of it :3 he just adores how pretty you look taking every single drop of his seed; the way you look so perfectly fucked out is enough to bring another feeling of euphoria to him.

"m-my love, so pretty~" diluc's eyes were focused on your trembling figure beneath him, cunt already completely full of his cum yet he's still pumping more and more inside for 'good measure' as per his words. "i know you're tired, i'm sorry—you feel too good for me to... pull out-ah~" the sensitive head of his cock kissed all the deepest parts of you with ease; giving you so much more pleasure, along with the way he was constantly pushing his cum back inside further.

"...so perfect for me, my good girl~"

—KURONUSHI

shibari. his specialty, his favorite. he decided to try a new position instead of the usual mating press you two did; having you situated on the bed with your ass up and face buried in the pillows while your wrists were bound by a red ribbon behind your back.

"that's it, keep moaning for me like that~" kuronushi coos, hips slamming against your body as his cock thrusted in and out of your ass at a steady rhythm, fingers rubbing roughly at your swollen clit, continuing to drive you over the edge. "fuck—your voice truly is the best instrument~ and your moans... the most majestic melody i've ever heard~" he says in between uneven breaths before finally cumming inside you, abruptly pulling out and pushing into your already filled to the brim cunt, a dark chuckle escaping his lips upon hearing you moan at the sudden entrance.

"just made sure to fill up both of your holes, love~"

#♡.･ signed by yza ✰°｡⋆ #♡.･ occasions ✰°｡⋆ #genshin smut #genshin x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #kuronushi smut #kuronushi x reader #ayato smut #ayato x reader #xiao smut #xiao x reader #diluc smut #diluc x reader

[fumikoshi]

Sensei

✧ — SUMMARY; you came to school wearing a very short skirt to make your beloved Gojo sensei jealous. But things didn't go as you expected.

✧ — CONTENT; 18+ ONLY // MDNI — fem! reader, nickname, doggystyle, size kink, belly bulge, age gap, slightly jealous gojo, public sex, voyeurism, innocent!reader, reader is 18

"Se-sensei~ ah~ s-slow down...~ kyaa~"

The sound of skin against skin, your wetness and sweet moans filled the empty classroom, you were now in a lewd position, bent over sensei's table, one hand holding your delicate wrists as he fucked you from behind, the other hand wrapped around your waist. Gojo looked down at the petite body beneath him with a wry grin on his face; your delicate body trembling with pleasure. You looked so small and defenseless beneath him that he could destroy you with a flick of his finger. The way your plump ass waves in his each mercyless thrust. The way your tiny puffy pussy flexed to accommodate his cock, and the way his huge cock slid in and out of your sloppy cunt was a priceless sight for Gojo.

"Fufu~ are you sure you want me to slow down, my sweet student~? You know it's going to come to this when you put on that slutty skirt, don't you~?"

His thrusts were getting harder with his every word, his cock thrusting deeper than you ever thought possible. You squealed sweetly when the tip of his cock hit your sweet spot.

"Kya~! Sensei~!"

"Fufu~ you have a pretty dirty mouth for an innocent little girl like you, sweetie~ but it's okay, I love you just the way you are~"

*clap*

*clap*

The speed and strength of his thrusts increased with each passing second, his muscles contracted slightly, his stunning blue eyes narrowed. He clenched his teeth gently as your sweet pussy began to squeeze his cock.

"Sensei...~ I feel weird... like I'm going to pee-ah~"

Your words of innocence made his cock harden and twitch. İt made his thrusts were erratic, he was close too.

"Haha~ you're not gonna pee, mochi. It's called cum. Soon your sweet nectar will be all over my dick."

Cum...? What is that?... You were dizzy with pleasure, you couldn't even understand what he was saying. Your soft cheeks flushed, you closed your eyes in shame and pleasure, your eyebrow slightly arched and your tongue hanging slightly over the edge of your soft, pink lip.

When the tip of his large cock hit the sweet spot called the g-spot, your eyes widened and you moaned loudly like a porn star.

"Ahaaaah~!"

"That's it, moan for your sensei. Moan for who this young cunt belongs to."

*clap*

"Ah~ senseii~!"

*clap*

"M-my body is belongs to you~ my cunt is your to use, senseii~"

*clap clap clap*"

''That's right, you were created for your sensei,  this sloppy cunt belongs to me, and no one else can have it but me."

*Clap clap clap clap clap*

With those words, Gojo's grip on your slender waist tightened. You felt a strange feel in your tummy... You were about to cum.

After a few hard thrust, finally the knot broke and your nectar poured on Gojo's thick cock.

Your hot liquid covered your teacher's huge cock but he didn't stop and he kept thrusting his cock in your cunt after a while.

After a few thrust, he cum too. He poured his semen into your fertile womb and you moaned softly as you felt your womb fill with warm fluid. Gojo's cock stayed in you for a while.

After a short while, he slowly pulled out his softened cock. His breath heavy, sweat trickling down his chin in small beads, a smirk formed on his face as he watched with narrowed eyes as your beautiful pussy twitched and oozed his load and your cum. he chuckled under his breath and the veiny large hand that wrapped around your slender waist moved slowly to your bulged tummy and began to stroke it gently.

"Oops~ I think your dear sensei filled your womb with his milk~ How careless of me~"

He didn't look sad at all.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #satoru #jujutsu satoru #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #satorugojo #gojo saturo #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #teacher x student

[bobattea]

i would like to request a scenario for the bsd boys' (dazai, chuuya, atsushi and aku) reactions to their fem s/o having an intense orgasm. Like moaning loudly, squirming, shutting her eyes and throwing her head back (bonus points if they kiss her neck when she does)

Pairings: Akutagawa, Atsushi, Chuuya, Dazai and Fyodor (separate) x Fem!Reader Warnings: predator/prey, language, god complex, NSFW, praise, degradation, oral (F receiving), Edging, kinda rough? Word Count: 3575 A/N: I added Fyodor to this list also. I couldn't help myself :) I'm so sorry it took so long to write this it took me 3 days to write longer than I had liked but it sure was fun to write. I hope I did your request justice!

Akutagawa -

You took off in a sprint. Depending on how this night goes, you may or may not follow Akutagawa into a secluded area again. You avoid looking behind you, which would only slow you down.

“I’ll give you a head start, but you better run fast.” You recall the warning in his words and in the firm grip that he had on your arm. “Because once I've caught you, I’m going to fuck you.” His words replayed over and over in your head as you sprinted down the path, triggering a familiar feeling between your legs that was difficult to ignore. It was a quiet night; barely anyone else was around. Typical.

The more you ran, the more out of breath you became. The excitement and thrill were the only things keeping you going. He was going to catch up for sure, and if you had as much of a single break, you’d be a sitting duck, but you don't hear anything besides yourself panting with no clue as to where you are running or what Akutagawa has in store. As if on cue, Rashōmon had gotten ahold of your leg, dragging you back a short distance as Akutagawa walked at a steady pace in the direction you ran in. His gaze is no different from that of a predator stalking its prey, sending shivers down your spine the closer he gets to you.

“Was that the best you could do? I even gave you a head start.” His expression didn’t change as he pressed your face first against the wall and had his Rashōmon hold you in place. Akutagawa didn’t push you too hard; the last thing he wanted was to hurt your pretty face, but he did so with just enough impact to send a shock of excitement through your body. The rest was a haze until you felt the cold breeze on your bare skin and shreds of your clothes hit the floor. “I told you what would happen if I caught you.” Akutagawa bit your ear gently, then kissed your neck before burying his cock inside you. His nails dug into yours as he thrust into you at an unforgiving pace, leaving you no time to adjust to him.

“Fuck! Ryuu!” You squeeze your eyes shut, and your hands are balling into fists against the wall. Akutagawa brings his head closer to your neck and bites down again with a low groan. He quickens the pace, and his thrusts become harder. “T-too much!” He doesn't listen to your words; you just egg him on.

“So fucking tight. Gonna ruin you.” He groans into your ear as he lifts one of your legs up to fuck you even deeper, the tip hitting your cervix repeatedly. The cold air didn't bother you anymore; you were far too hot as you approached your orgasm. You couldn't form words, just babbling noises as you squeezed your eyes shut again and moaned loudly, finally cumming around his cock. Akutagawa came not long after; he held you in that position while you both came down from your high, nothing but heavy breathing as you both caught your breath. “You can have my coat to walk back in.” Akutagawa rests his head on your shoulder, still panting.

“As if I had a choice." You gave a short laugh; there was no way you were walking home naked, and it was highly doubtful he would let you either.

Atsushi -

Atsushi was inexperienced, to say the least. You had to teach him all sorts of things, except tonight. Tonight you have no idea what changed, but Atsushi would not let you say anything, and if you even try to utter any words that weren’t his name and how good he makes you feel, he dives his tongue into your pussy. He holds your hips down to the bed and licks at your wet cunt as if he’d been starved,your legs shaking and threatening to clamp around his head if it weren’t for his arms forcing your legs open.

“Atsushi~” you whimpered while his tongue worked wonders on your clit, sending shocks throughout your body. His arms snake around your thighs, dragging you even closer to him to stop you from rocking your hips on his face.

“Fuckkkk, you taste so good, baby. I can’t get enough.” He almost didn’t even sound like your Atsushi; he was way too confident. Maybe that’s not the word for it right now, but your mind is a mess, only able to focus on how good Astushi’s tongue feels against you. You can’t even get a single word besides his name and a few broken sentences. Your fingers make their way into his hair as you arch your back in pleasure, only for Atsushi to stop briefly. “Hands by your side, baby,” he says, moving his way up your body to come face-to-face with you. You do as he says and put your arms by your sides, then he engulfs you in a kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. “That’s a good girl.” You whimper at his words; this definitely was not your Atsushi, but you weren’t complaining either.

Atsushi kisses his way back down your body, starting with your neck, then down the valley of your breasts and your stomach, then he hovers over your cunt. You can feel his warm breath against your wet folds, but he avoids it all together and goes to kiss and bite at your thighs.

“Atsushi~ god please," you’re stopped halfway through your plea when Atsushi buries his face again between your legs, working his tongue in and out of your pussy. “Fuck!” you moan, arching your back again, and you grip the bed sheets tightly. Who knew he would be so skilled with his tongue? Not even you could teach him this. Somewhere through the bliss, his tongue was replaced with two of his fingers, and he sucked on your clit.You could feel yourself pushing yourself into bed, feeling the wave of pleasure as Atssushi pumps his fingers in and out of you while flicking his tongue over your clit repeatedly.

He loved hearing your breathless moans as he brought you to your release. It's all because of how good he’s making you feel all by himself, not you telling him what to do. Your reactions to him—your legs shaking, your walls clenching around his fingers, and your face flushing all because of him— You buck your hips once more, letting yourself cum all over Atsushi’s fingers with a loud moan of his name, but even after, he still slowly moves his fingers in and out.

"Where did you learn that?” You ask between breaths as you lie on the bed. Atsushi removes his fingers from your cunt and once again makes his way up to look at you face-to-face.

“I’ll tell you later, but we aren't done yet.” He looks down at you softly, his eyes still filled with desire, as you look back up at him, still recovering from your orgasm.

Chuuya -

“You look so pretty like this doll.” Chuuya stood at the foot of the bed, admiring you naked in all your glory with a red rope around your wrists and attached to the headboard with a silky blindfold over your eyes. You can feel the bed dip beside you and Chuuya learning over you, his voice next to your ear. “I wish you could see just how beautiful you look.” He kisses your temple. You hear the rustling of clothes and his belt hitting the floor. You squirm in anticipation of what Chuuya has in store for you.

Chuuya grips your legs and brings his face close to one of your thighs, his breath giving you goosebumps over your skin. He kisses your thighs gently and moves up your body. He kisses your stomach all the way to your breasts. You arch your back, feeling his lips around your nipple and his tongue running over the sensitive bud while his hand pinches and plays with the other one before he gives the same attention to the other one. “So perfect for me.” He lets go and continues his journey up, kissing your collarbones and each side of your neck until he hits your ear again. “Perfect for me to ruin.” He sits up and looks at your face. Your lip caught between your lips, the blindfold was still secure around your eyes, and there was a slight shine on your skin from the sweat due to the foreplay earlier.

You were relying on sound and touch alone to figure out what Chuuya’s next move would be, but he was so quiet, and his damn ability made it nearly impossible until he gripped your hips and positioned himself in front of your entrance. Chuuya teased your cunt with his cock before slowly pushing it inside you. You both moaned, then he started moving in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. He was going to take his time with you.

“God, you were made for me, doll. Fit me so perfectly.” You moaned loudly and squirmed each time his cock hit deeper inside of you, your hands holding tightly onto the rope for something to touch if you couldn't hold onto Chuuya. With your legs wrapping around Chuuya’s waist to try pushing him closer to you, he started to pound into you harder, but keeping at a slow pace, and you got louder each time his name fell from your lips. The ropes were giving off a burning sensation around your wrists. Each harsh thrust Chuuya gave you—a mixture of pain and pleasure—had you hissing and moaning at the same time.

“More Chuuya, please.” You beg; you wish you could see Chuuya, your imagination doing nothing for you, wanting to see Chuuya fall apart while he watches you fall apart too. Chuuya smiled smugly; he could feel you tighten around him. Your hips were lifted off the bed as he started to quicken the pace, slamming into you roughly.

“I feel you, darlin'; you're so close.” Chuuya was meant to take his time with you, but your pussycat was just too good not to lose control. His slow, sensual plan for the night definitely took a turn into more raw and rough passion. “Squeezin’ me so tight, baby.” Chuuya tosses his head back; he was not far behind.

“Chuuya! I'm going to cum!” You shouted in pure bliss; he was hitting all the right spots; he knew your pussy so well.

“Not far behind you, doll.” The two of you chased your highs, your moans joining in unison as you both cum together. "Fuck, baby, I really have no control when it comes to you.” Chuuya leans down and kisses your forehead.

Dazai -

 'That sweet talking son of a bitch.’ You huff to yourself as you take your seat at your desk. His stupid idea was completely impractical, let alone utterly humiliating, and still you agreed. Dazai and his silver tongue—you could completely ruin his fun and just take it out now, and he would be none the wiser? Or maybe he knows you’ll do that? It's hard to outsmart Dazai. He knows you too well and speaks of the devil. He smiles warmly at you as he takes his seat across Kunikida and Atsushi. You watch as they all engage in conversation, waiting for Dazai to do something. How can he possibly think you’ll get any work done if you are on edge the whole day? Maybe that's his plan? To do nothing and keep you in a constant state of excitement and nervousness.

Then you see it. Dazai reaches for his pocket, and you can see the small black remote he hides under the table out of sight of Kunikida and Atsushi. You stare intently at the small black box in his hands. Your body tenses, waiting for the vibrations to start, but it doesn't happen. You can see the small, subtle smirk on his face as he listens to Atsushi. ‘Bastard’. He’s just playing with the remote in his hand, his thumb grazing over the button, threatening to push the very button that can ruin you within a second, and the thought of it is already making you wet. You were too caught up in your own thoughts to notice the three of them staring at you.

“Y/n? You there?” Atsushi looks at you with concern. You blink a few times, and you briefly look at Dazai, who’s wearing a dark smirk behind Kunikida and Atsushi.

“Sorry, what did you say?” You clear your throat, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Kunikida looks at you with a disappointed look for not listening to him in the first place.

“I was saying we have a meeting with a client at..." You could no longer hear Kunikida’s voice. The only thing you could register in that moment were the vibrations deep in your pussy. You gripped the table, your knuckles turning white as you pressed your legs together automatically. Your eyes were wide when you realized that he had pressed the button. Biting back a moan, you tried tuning Kunikida back in, but it was no use. “Y/n! Are you even listening to  me?"The vibrator stopped, and you took a shaky breath.

"Yeah, I heard you. Sorry.” You force a smile, trying to play it off. Kunikida sighed but went back to his work, realizing he'd just be wasting more of his precious time on you if you weren't going to listen. You too went back to work after finally composing yourself, but you were still on edge because of Dazai, but holy hell did it feel good.

Eventually you had forgotten all about it, getting too engrossed in your work, and you had managed to meet with the client Kunikida had mentioned earlier. Your day was just starting until those vibrations started again out of nowhere. Your back arched and your hand slammed on the table as you took a sharp inhale at the pleasurable feeling, and you pressed your legs together again for some kind of friction. You noticed all eyes on you as soon as you did that, including Dazai, who had such an evil grin on his face. Your face turned pink out of embarrassment.

“S-sorry…cramps” You lie nervously, then try to go back to work, but Dazai doesn't turn the vibrator off; he keeps it going. Your hand is now subtly trying to cover your mouth as you try to prevent yourself from moaning, and your thighs are once again pressing and rubbing together for some kind of release. Dazai kept this up for the majority of the day, and somehow each time he knew when you would be close, he would just stop.

It was finally the end of the tortuous day, and you were the last one in the office, packing up your things. Then it started again, and thank God no one was around because you let out a moan that you had been holding in while you gripped the table again, bending over to steady yourself. Your legs felt like they could give out on you.

“You’ve been holding that one all day.” You can hear the amusement in his voice as he presses himself up behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder.”

“Dazai…Please” You moan louder; you just want him to stop leaving you on the edge of your orgasm. Dazai’s arms snake around your waist, his right hand traveling down the waistband of your skirt and passing your pants to rub circles on your clit.

“So wet," he murmurs into your ear, applying a little bit of pressure to your clit as he slowly continues to rub circles on it while the vibrator is still going. “And we haven't even gotten to the good part yet.” You let out a whimper as he kisses your neck.

"Dazai, please, let me cum.” Your voice was desperate, and your head rested on his shoulder as he continued to kiss and nibble at your neck. His fingers move a little faster on your aching clit, he just needs to say the words, and you’ll cum right then and there, but he keeps dragging it out, and you're nothing but a moaning mess. Your legs can't even hold you up with how shakey they are as you approach your orgasm.

“You can, Bella; you deserve that much.” He smirks as he presses his lips against your cheek as he helps guide you through your orgasm. The hand that isn't abusing your sensitive bundle of nerves went to his pocket to retrieve the little remote Dazai has become well acquainted with throughout the day.

“Dazai!” Letting out a strangled moan and biting your lip in pure bliss as you came around the vibrator that's been in your cunt all day. Dazai stops rubbing your clit and turns off the vibrator. Your chest is heaving, and a thin layer of sweat has formed on your forehead.

“That’s it, and like I said, that was only the beginning."

Fyodor -

Fyodor never looks at you, and if he does, he looks at you like you’re the dirt beneath his boot. Only on rare occasions like this would he ever look at you, however. Fyodor's gaze barely left the monitors that are stationed behind you. He was acting as if you weren’t bouncing yourself on his cock, his seemingly bored expression never changing, but he wasn't bored. No, not at all. Ignoring you was his way of encouraging you to try harder at getting his attention. You want Fyodor to look at you? To praise you? To grant you a mind-blowing orgasm? You’re going to have to try harder than that, and Fyodor is a patient man with an impressive amount of self-control, which you hate.

You’re struggling, to say the least. Your breathless moans fill the silence of the room as you continue to fuck yourself with Fyodor’s cock, rocking your hips as much as you can before bouncing up and down again, but it just wasn’t the same. Your head falls onto his shoulder as your hands grip his arms, trying to chase your orgasm. You momentarily stop just to catch your breath to go again; doing this yourself was agonisingly painful. You just want Fyodor to take control of you right now so that you don't have to do it alone.

Fyodor knows you're struggling, and he finally looks at you. His gaze is one of amusement and pity at how pathetic you look, trying and failing at chasing your own orgasm like the slut you are without his help.

“Look at you, Myshka—you can’t even do something so simple by yourself.” He smirks as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers. His hands trail down to your hips as he holds you in place before thrusting into you. You throw your head back and cry out as he thrusts himself deeper into you, your nails digging into his shoulders that are definitely going to leave marks. “You truly are pathetic, aren't you?” Fyodor will never praise you, no matter what you do. You know that now.

“Oh God!  Fyodor!” You moan loudly and throw your head back as he continues to thrust into you, now fully in control of the pace, only half listening to the degrading things he’s saying to you as if they aren't true.

“That’s right, Myshka, I’m your god.” He holds your chin so that you’re looking at him. He wants to watch you completely fall apart on his cock. Fyodor continued to control your movements; they were fast-paced, leaving you barely a chance to catch your breath. “Eyes on me.” His tone is commanding yet almost condescending, as if you can’t even do that on your own.

“M’gonna cum. Fuck!” You scream as pleasure washes over you as your walls squeeze his cock.

“That’s right, let everyone hear just how good your ‘god’ makes you feel.” He whispers in your ear as you chase your high. Your nails dig deeper into his shoulder, breaking the skin and leaving crescent moon shapes at this point as you finally cum.

Your head rests on his shoulder as you catch your breath coming down from your high. You feel his hand grip your chin gently, making you look at him. Fyodor still has that look on his face—that you’re pathetic and worthless.

“There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" He smirked down at you, his head tilted, then let go of your chin before looking back at the monitors again. You don't move; he didn’t ask, nor did he move you himself. So you sit there with his cock still embedded inside of you and your head back on his shoulder as you relax. He looked at you. The only time he will ever look at you, even for a few short minutes, is when his cock is buried in your cunt with nothing but degrading words spilling from his mouth. A few minutes later, you stay still, now fully calmed down. You feel his hand on your hair, and you expect him to grab a fist full for him to drag you off of him and toss you to the side like you meant nothing, but instead he strokes your head gently. “You did well, Myshka.”

#bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd dazai #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs fanfiction #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader smut #chuuya x reader smut #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #Akutagawa x reader smut #bsd akutagawa #atsushi x reader #atsushi x reader smut #dazai smut #chuuya smut #Akutagawa smut #atsushi smut #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor smut #fyodor x reader smut

[moonstruckme]

absolutely begging for a part 2 of the sirius angst blurb with reader being more distant during sex and sirius notices. obviously take your time and take care of yourself!! mwah mwah mwah. thank you for EVEN reading this request.

Thank you for requesting my love!

cw: smut mdni, p in v, miscommunication trope

part 1

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You think you’ve been doing a fairly decent job of staying out of your own head. You’re keeping intentionally focussed on Sirius’ body and the things it does to you. His tattooed biceps flexing, hands clutching your hips to guide your movements, pretty, perfect mouth forming your name. 

He says it again, getting your attention. Reluctantly, you meet his eyes. Sirius grins wickedly.

“Someone’s quiet today. You with me, gorgeous?” 

“Mhm.” You lay a hand over his chest and lean forward to drive him deeper inside you. 

He curses at the new fit, and you grin in a way you hope looks normal, clenching your walls around him. 

“Fuck,” Sirius hisses. “That’s my girl.” 

It’s like someone’s thrown a bucket of water on the heat in your core. Your stomach drops embarrassingly, because you’re not his girl. He’d made the restrictions of your arrangement very clear when he’d spoken to Remus last week. Why would Sirius call you that when you both know it’s not true? 

“Hey.” The boy below you catches on to your shift in mood quicker than you would have expected. He looks up at you bemusedly, his grip on your hips turning from possessive to conscientious. “You okay? Wanna stop?” 

You shake your head before you can think. “No, let’s keep going.” 

You try to find your rhythm again, but Sirius doesn’t match you. Dark brows descend over stormcloud eyes. 

“I don’t want to do anything you’re not into, dollface.” 

“You’re not,” you huff. 

He looks at you for a second, gaze unabashedly scrutinizing. “You’re upset,” he deduces. 

You laugh, incredulous. “I am not.” 

But Sirius has made his decision. His grasp on your hips strengthens again as he lifts you enough to pull out, slipping from underneath you and sitting up by your pillows. You purse your lips but put your underwear—a thong you hope he doesn’t think was for his benefit—back on when he does, taking the shirt he tosses you and tugging it over your head. 

Sirius sprawls out on his side, propping his chin on a hand. “Why the pout, hm?” 

“I’m not pouting.” 

He grins. “Yeah, you are.” 

And fine, you are, but not because of him. Because you’re still pissed at yourself for being hurt. For thinking, foolishly, that you would be fine with having Sirius over when he’d texted you that he was in the mood despite still nursing your wound from just a week before. Mortified at yourself for ever having cared, and worse for caring still. 

Sirius’ eyes soften as if he’s seen something in your expression. His grip is gentle beneath the teasing as he tugs you down by your arm, encouraging you to lay beside him. 

“Wanna tell me why?” he asks.

You do, actually. It makes frustration prickle over your skin to think about how much you’d love to tell him about this. You’d fallen into the habit, stupidly, of spilling your guts to Sirius about most things. He was already one of your closest friends, but with this new level of intimacy between you…you’d lost sight of boundaries that had existed for a reason. 

The last thing either of you need is for you to burden him with your emotions about this. 

“I’m not pouting,” you say again, obstinately. 

Sirius frowns. His hand crosses the short distance to your hip, one finger running absentmindedly over the hem of his shirt you’ve thrown on. 

“Something’s upset you,” he muses. “Is it me?” 

“No,” you say. 

Something flickers in Sirius’ eyes. “Liar.” 

Your lips part to argue, but it’s no use. He looks too certain. “How do you do that?” 

His lips quirk, but there’s not much humor in his expression. “It’s a gift. Gonna tell me how I fucked up, pretty girl?” 

You shake your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

It’s the truth this time, and Sirius can see it. His brow creases in puzzlement. 

“M’sure I did at some point,” he says softly. His fingers push the cotton of his t-shirt up your side, toying with your underwear. “You’re just too nice to blame me for it.” 

His knuckle brushes your hip as he runs his finger along the thin, silken fabric of your thong, and you don’t stop your eyes from going to the motion. You whisper, “Why do you touch me like this?” 

For a moment, Sirius’ expression shutters. “I thought this was what we did.” His voice is quiet, not quite question and not quite answer. “Do you not want me to touch you?” 

You do, too much. But for different reasons. Not just because you’re friends with this extra element to your relationship. You want him to touch you with something more. You want to touch him back in the same way, uninhibited. 

“It’s fine,” you say. 

“No, hey.” Sirius slips his finger from your thong. The fabric snaps back into place without much bite. “Don’t say that.” 

“What do you want me to say?” 

He looks hurt you would ask. “Say what you’re thinking.” 

You blow out a breath, rolling onto your back. You don’t want to look at him, but you can still feel his gaze on you, searching and worried. 

“It’s my fault,” you say, “okay? It’s really nothing to do with you, I just…got a bit caught up in all this and started feeling things I know we agreed not to.” You sneak a glance at him, eyes shooting back to the ceiling when they accidentally meet his. “I couldn’t help it, but I’m trying to get past it.” 

You hear Sirius’ hand whisper against the sheets as it inches towards you. It stops partway. “That’s alright,” he says, a gentleness you can’t bear in his voice. “Why would you think that’s something you had to hide from me? It’s bound to happen with these things.” 

You smile wryly. “Oh, because you’re so irresistible?” 

“I mean, for one thing.” You can feel the tingling of his grin directed at you, but it fades as he sobers. “But also just because it’s natural, you know? I think we were both a bit too sure of ourselves when we started doing this. It’s not so easy to separate out as we thought.” 

You turn your head to look at him. “You don’t seem to have any trouble.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows rise. “Why would you think that?” 

“Because…” You gesture flippantly with a hand. “Because of what you said to Remus last week. We’re just friends, no?” 

Sirius stills for a moment, and then the breath goes out of him in a single, long exhale. He lets his chin drop from his hand, resting his head on a curled arm. “You were privy to that conversation, were you?” 

You shrug. “James’ bathroom door isn’t as soundproofed as we thought.” 

He chuckles. “Guess we should have been more quiet.” 

You smile halfheartedly, and Sirius’ humor fades. He looks at you carefully. If you didn’t know him better, you’d think he was attempting the odd and unconventional practice of thinking before he speaks. 

“I’m not sure I said anything to Moony about what I was thinking,” he says after a minute. “I spoke about the terms of our arrangement, but I sort of avoided…putting my own feelings in the mix.” 

You’re not so careful with your words. After a week of stewing, you don’t have the patience. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Sirius laughs through his nose like he can sense your agitation. “Just that I was more so making presumptions about how you felt than volunteering information on my own situation.” His hand creeps closer, making shushing noises against the sheets, until his fingertips are teasing your own. It sends zaps of energy all the way up your arm to the tips of your toes. You curl your legs in closer to you. “I didn’t want to embarrass myself,” Sirius says. “I was some pining twit who’d started having sex with a friend and then couldn’t keep my own feelings under control. What kind of idiot does that?” 

You feel your lips twitch. Sirius’ grin slashes across his face. “Yeah, I don’t know anyone that daft,” you say. 

His laugh is low and belly-deep. “Can I hug you, please?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, feigning reluctance despite the commotion in your stomach that’s getting harder to ignore. 

You start to sit up, but Sirius rolls right on top of you, pressing you into the bed and needling his arms underneath your shoulders. He smushes his cheek to yours. 

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, dollface,” he says, words breezing over your ear. “I could have saved us both a lot of time if I’d manned up and spoken to you about it.” 

You cross your wrists over his back and bring your knees up so they’re squeezing his sides. Sirius makes a ridiculously pleased humming sound. “It’s okay. I wasn’t planning on talking to you either.” 

He laughs, turning his face into yours so the sound vibrates against your temple. “One of us is going to have to pick up some emotional intelligence, else we’ll need James to referee our every interaction.” 

You squeeze him tight, happiness like a bubble close to bursting in your chest. “I dunno,” you say, and Sirius is clearly chuffed at the audible smile in your voice. He stamps a firm kiss of approval to your hairline. “I think we’ve done alright.” 

Contentment oozes from his tone, too. “Yeah, I suppose so.” 

#fwb!sirius #fwb!sirius x reader #sirius black #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x self insert #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black angst #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black smut #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one shot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders #marauders era #hp marauders

[mcondance]

pretty brown eyes (quit breakin’ my heart); s14 spencer reid x fem!reader

fingering, in his lap in his driver’s seat, softdom!spence (it’s canon idc), i have only seen one ep of criminal minds so years of crushing on spence through edits and stuff are working overtime ☆ this was supposed to be just a quick thing just abt spencer’s puppy eyes but it turned into this whole thing so enjoy. mcon writing more than like 250 words? the spencer reid effect is crazy. ☆ title from pretty brown eyes by mint condition and i tweaked it a little to fit a motif in here okayokay enjoy

spencer’s eyes, wide and beautifully brown, are his key. he knows what he’s doing when he flashes them, makes them a thousand times more expressive than they usually are. 

he begs you with them, begs to have his favorite thing for dinner, begs you for a million kisses, and anything else you can think of. he’s dangerous.

but he’s even more dangerous when he’s using them to make you do something.

two fingers deep inside you, perched in his lap in the leaned-back driver’s seat of his car, you swear you could explode. his hands are practiced and precise and patient in their conquest.

your hand clamps around his wrist, trying futilely to do something, anything to control the shocks and waves building incessantly inside you. he’s too strong and you’re too weak and your hand only serves as something else to fuel him, to urge him to plunge his fingers ever deeper and rock his palm against your clit. his palm dampens with your wetness, joining his thighs beneath you and the expanse of your thighs too. 

“ah-” you borderline heave.

“mhm,” he hums, his chest rumbling under you. 

the car’s silence sets a perfect backdrop for your runaway whines and whimpers, “i can’t” and “spence” and “uh uh, please” flowing from your lips like the water threatening to fall from your eyes. his fingers disappearing inside you make their own disgusting noise, too. 

spencer takes it all in, into that calculating mind of his, eyes moving from where his hand works between your legs to the hand you have clamped around his over your stomach, and resting on your face that holds a multitude of sensations and thoughts and feelings. 

you squirm a little, too strung out to move more than a couple centimeters but of course, he picks it up. brown eyes find yours as you feel his head turn and yours turns to him, and you’re fucked. so fucked.

“can you take it for me? hmm?” he’s making you. you couldn’t say no to those eyes even if you had the strength to. he’s cunning and you both know what he’s doing, but his eyes plead for you to let him play with you and your body cries yes and it’s sealed, you’re sealed and signed and delivered. 

“yeah,” you nod and keen, and his eyes soften ever more, snapping nerves through your body, and you tighten around his fingers, pulling another hum from his chest. 

he needs to kiss you, so he does. awkward angle and all, he leans and takes your lips into a kiss. he’s breathtaking and shit, his kiss has you as fucked up as his hand between your thighs, the focused and fluid motions of his fingers and palm melting your body onto his. 

sweat has you sticking to him, too, soaking through your shirt and his, and if you were more sober you’d thank him for not making it where you’d have to suffer through soaked underwear and shorts on the ride home. 

intoxicated, though, you squeeze your eyes shut and lean your head onto his shoulder, finally giving into the pleasure he’d spend lifetimes just giving to you. 

“good.” he states, abundantly pleased at the tension leaving your body. he hums again, drawing closer to your neck so he’s watching the view from where you bear witness. 

“you feelin’ good, baby? now that you’re all sweet f’me?”

“mhm-hmm,” you keen. you’d be a lie if you said it didn’t send heat and a thousand butterflies rising up through you, and even if you could lie, your body gives you away. again you dig your nails into his arm and the other finds his face, cupping his cheek and rubbing through his stubble, and it calms you down by proxy. he could crack a smile, now, and he does, a little grin spreading across his stupidly gorgeous face, a tease and poison and pleasure all in one methodical, pretty, dazzling genius.

again, your ears focus on the sound. and, damningly, his do too, you can feel it in the quickening of his hand and the deep rolling in his chest when his fingers and your cunt grow louder, ricocheting off his windows and bouncing back to grace two pairs of ears. it's vulgar and disgusting, but you both indulge in it like the purest water on earth.

it feels good to let spencer work you how he knows you like, to be the only thing he has going on in that brain of his.

the sparks that have been growing in you since spencer first laid his hands on you are starting to glide into fireworks, and you can’t run from it. it’s the opposite of what you want to do. now, laid bare and pathetic in spencer’s arms, you just want to cum for him, and everything that comes with it.

spencer knows, and he does nothing differently. consistency brings you to the edge and your head falls back to find his eyes, devout and resolute, clear in what he wants from you. you’re swimming in them, floating lazily through and he nods demandingly slow, and his request is fulfilled, his eyes are too beautiful and expressive and wanting for you to not cum.

cradled in his arms, you shiver with the pleasure of it, whines and sobs validated by spencer’s soft hum as he watches you unfold. shuddering, it flows through you and obeys the movements of spencer’s hand while he follows your bursting with parted lips and wondering eyes. 

as your breath returns to you, and the stars behind your eyes take their place back in the sky, your chest still heaves softly, sense and brains returning to you slowly. you open your eyes to find spencer’s staring right at you, soft with adoration and amused contentment.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x black!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem reader

[skzdarlings]

verisimilitude ; hyunjin x reader ; one-shot

masterlist.

( READ ON AO3. )

You are a self-identified no-nonsense curmudgeon. Your best friend is an eccentric pretty boy. You accidentally send him an explicit video of yourself. What's the worst that can happen?

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: romantic comedy. best friends to lovers. curly-haired reader because mood. accidental sexting. accidental voyeurism. sexual tension. resolved sexual tension. very explicit sexual content. not so much dom/sub but hyunjin explicitly prefer control. sexual discovery. very horny leads lol. (word count: 19500 words.)

-

You look like Hyunjin’s lawyer again. 

Your best friend has gravitated to a somewhat more punk persona in recent years.  You say somewhat because you are not sure it runs deeper than aesthetic, though he would probably be forgiven on account of his perfect face.   His good looks combined with his natural charisma lets him get away with most things. 

His vibrant red hair catches the sunlight like a painted flame, a perfect stroke of red against the beige canvas of the art gallery’s exterior.  He is slouching against the wall, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, squinting in the light.  He looks like a rather put upon a vampire given the dark garb and eyeliner. 

Then he turns his head and sees you.  You are wearing one of your usual blazers and modest skirts, your untameable mess of curls twisted into an updo that is fighting (and losing) against the wind.  You try not to feel too preposterous, peeling bits of hair out of your mouth as you approach him. 

He smiles.  Some people think his smiles look a bit smarmy and you suppose they are not wrong, his lips perpetually quirked like a punchline just occurred to him, but you know your best friend well.  Despite the intimidating ring of dark eye-make up, his eyes are alight with a great deal of affection.  If you were prone to sentimentality, you might concede a heart flutter. 

You clear your throat and march ahead.  He saunters up the path to you.  You meet halfway. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says. 

He is the only person allowed to call you that. 

“Hello, Hyunjin,” you say.  You lack his playful charm so you do not have a nickname to return.  You are more comfortable around Hyunjin than anyone else on earth, and you are still awkward around him.  “Thank you for the invitation,” you say. “I appreciate you might have otherwise wanted the time to yourself, so I hope I am not imposing by accepting.” 

He laughs.  When all you do is blink at him, stone-faced, he covers his mouth with a delicate touch of his long fingers, still smirking behind them.    

“Sorry, why wouldn’t I want you to say yes?” he asks.  “We always go to the new exhibitions together.”

You tuck back an errant curl only for another to whip across your brow. 

“Well,” you say, tucking that one back too.  “Since I am temporarily living with you, I thought my company might grow wearisome in a way it usually does not.  Familiarity breeding contempt and all that.” 

Though you state this observation with your usual pragmatic detachment, you are very insecure about it.  You gave this risk a great deal of consideration prior to moving in with Hyunjin.  You are only staying in his apartment’s spare bedroom for a few months while your disaster of a townhouse undergoes repairs (the upstairs bathroom flooded again), but you have never lived with Hyunjin before.  You are aware of your short-comings and you were very worried that your best friend was going to tire of you within a week. 

It has been a month now and he has shown no signs of despising your existence, but it is still best to brace oneself for every eventuality.  

He just smiles and puts both hands in his pockets. 

“Are you getting sick of me?” he asks. 

Another ringlet whips across your face. 

“Good grief,” you say, frantically pushing it aside.  “Of course not!  How could anyone ever get sick of you?”  What a preposterous thought.  Hyunjin just has to wink for the universe to re-arrange itself.  People adore him.  He is handsome and funny and charming and talented and intelligent.   You have known him for most of your life and you are still unearthing his many intricate layers.  As if you could ever grow tired of him.   “I think that’s the most foolish thing you’ve ever said,” you say with complete sincerity. 

He laughs some more, tossing his head back so all that red hair flutters behind him.  The wind co-operates with his hair, of course, working in tandem with the sunlight to flatter him. 

“Are you sure?  I’ve said a lot of foolish things,” he says.

You sputter when a curl flies into your mouth.  You push it away. 

“Yes, well,” you say.  “That much is true too.”  

He looks at you for a moment.  You can’t imagine why.  The sunlight is beaming right in your eyes and the wind is beating you to a pulp.  Maybe you look so hideous that he is contemplating a means of escape. 

Then one hand lifts out of his pocket, long fingers reaching for you.  It is very unexpected.  You stare into his face, a stoic mask concealing your confusion.  His eyes do not meet yours, his gaze on a loose curl.  He is gentle in the way he scoops it up and smoothly tucks it behind your ear.  A shiver erupts under the brush of his fingertips, that heart flutter loosing itself when his touch lingers. 

Then he smiles and puts his hand back in his pocket. 

“Sweet?” he asks. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Do you want a sweet?” He whips an open bag of gummies out of his pocket. 

“Oh.”  You look at the bag.  “Um.  No.”

“Are you sure?”  He shakes the bag.  “It’s your favourite.” 

“Oh.”  Your attention went awry with the race of your heart but you do observe the candy is one you enjoy.  “Okay. Thank you.”  You take a few and pop them in your mouth. 

He upturns the bag over his mouth, finishing off the sugar.  You hope your eyes don’t widen at the flick of his tongue.  Oh, it really is cumbersome when your nether region gets an idea about Hyunjin.  You try to ignore the heat down there.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he says, already striding away.  The man is at least 80% per cent leg so it puts him ahead rather quickly. 

You are too refined to scamper-and-scurry, but you might pitter-and-patter to catch up. 

-

You are able to lose yourself in the art exhibition.  You and Hyunjin share a meal afterward, discussing everything at length.  Hyunjin is a little quieter than usual so you apologize for speaking too much.   He is gazing at you, his chin is propped in his hand.  Surprise flickers in his expression when you apologize, but he recovers, waving his hand like it’s no matter. 

You return to his home and separate for the evening.  You to your studies, him to his evening work-out. 

You are in the apartment’s quaint living room when Hyunjin gets back from the gym.  He is an absolute sight, bare-faced, his red hair yanked into a half-ponytail.  There is a subtle, rolling musculature to his arms, proudly displayed in his sleeveless shirt, and he is glistening with sweat from top to bottom.  It should be gross.  You pride yourself on cleanliness. 

But good grief.  He is gorgeous. 

You are sitting cross-legged on the couch, comfortably dressed down in a sweatshirt and pyjama pants.  You peek at him over the top of your book only to find him already staring at you.  He is rubbing the back of his neck with a towel, his arm flexed.  When he catches you looking, his lips pull into a lazy smile. 

You duck behind your book again.  It is a poor shield, or maybe he is a cunning adversary, because your heart keeps racing anyway. 

“Whatcha reading?” he asks.  You can hear his slow approach.  The towel is tossed somewhere. 

“A book,” you say. 

“Funny,” he says.  He is in front of you now.  You have no time to strategize before he plucks the book out of your hand and holds it over his head. 

“Hyunjin!”  You muster all the indignant attitude you can.  “That’s not funny.  We’re not children anymore.  Return my book at once.”

“I want a hug first,” he says, his full lips in a silly pout. 

“Out of the question.”  You hope you do not sound as flustered as you feel.  “You’re disgusting.  Look at the state of you.”

“Please?”  He blinks his long lashes at you.

You stand up and try to look imposing, hands on your hips.  His smile does not diminish.  He waves the book in the air. 

You lunge, diving at the book and failing spectacularly.  He holds it out of reach, laughing, then he tries to wrap you up in a hug.  He smells like sweat and exertion and it makes you think of sex.  This is sufficiently startling enough to cause a fumble.  You spill backwards, a frantic hand thoughtlessly grasping for an anchor.  Your fingers hook in the neck of his shirt which has the predictable outcome of dragging him with you onto the couch. 

His more athletic reflexes kick in, just enough that he drops the book and catches himself with his hands.  He successively suspends his weight above you, which is nice, but you still thump your head on the arm of the couch, which is less nice. 

“Are you okay?” he asks when you hiss and grab your head.  The laughter has left his voice, replaced with genuine concern. 

“No,” you say, petulantly.  “A horrible sweaty man stole my book and beat me up.” 

He laughs, a twinkling sound that enchants you despite everything. 

“Poor baby,” he says.   “That sounds so disgusting.  Will a hug help…?”

“Don’t you dare—hmmf!”  He lowers himself and squishes you.  You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, partially because he swipes his nose on your neck and it tickles, largely because his laughter is infectious.   “Oh,” you say, pushing his face away. “You are a horrible person.”  

He giggles with boyish mirth.  It is at odds with the man he is, all hard planes and sturdy lines, an unfamiliar twinkle in his dark eyes.  You look back at him, at a loss for words.  Even if you were the sort of person to confess attraction, you would surely seem strange for finding his dishevelled appearance so desirable.  

Finally, you push him, diverting your gaze with an eye roll. 

“All right,” you say.  “That’s quite enough now.  There’s a shower at your disposal and I recommend you make use of it sooner than later.  Go on, get.” 

He obliges, but not without a cheeky kiss to your forehead.  It flusters you more than a chaste kiss should. 

He just winks, because of course the charmer is unaffected by such an innocent touch.  Hyunjin is too gushy and romantic to womanize, but he is certainly liberal with his sexual appetite.  You had the displeasure of running into a one-night stand your first weekend here.  Hyunjin left for work and let her sleep, assuming she would show herself out.  She was a pretty chatterbox and she bounded into the kitchen to strike up a very one-sided conversation with you in your bathrobe.

He did apologize for that.  He knows you do not like unexpected visitors at the best of times, never mind first thing in the morning, and certainly never mind ones he knew intimately.   Fortunately, it was the first and last time you made scrambled eggs for his hook-up. 

You are not in the habit of hook-ups, to say the very least, preferring a serving of scrambled eggs for one.  You had one boyfriend a few years ago but he was not the sort of man to tackle you onto the couch in a sweaty, flirtatious tangle.  You would have bopped him on the nose for trying, in fact.  Hyunjin really does get away with everything. 

Your nethers are getting ideas again.  The territory below your belt is usually well-behaved but unfortunately it lacks any sense when it comes to Hyunjin.  More time spent in proximity appears to be worsening its condition. 

You assume a blank face in the hopes of concealing any trace of arousal, watching Hyunjin amble his sweaty way to the bathroom. 

Oh dear.  You are very wound up.  Something will have to be done or you will never sleep tonight. 

You are blessedly granted an opportunity to satisfy your baser urges when Hyunjin emerges fully dressed for an evening out.  Some friends are at a bar down the street and they invited Hyunjin to join them.  Hyunjin tries to cajole you into joining him, promising it’s just a few drinks and teasing that your book won’t go anywhere, but your book is not how you intend to pass the time alone so his encouragement does not tempt you.  

“I’ll be back soon,” he says, shrugging on a leather vest.  His back is to you so you openly admire his form, his arms on display, his long legs, his ringed fingers as they gather his hair to tie in a knot.   He turns around before leaving, giving you one last finger-wiggle wave and a bounce of his eyebrows. 

He looks sinfully good.  You hope you look casual.  Innocently awaiting a quiet evening. 

Fifteen minutes later you are sitting in front of the full-length bedroom mirror, admiring yourself in a white satin babydoll.  Flaws like frizzy curls or unflattering shapes seem insignificant in the soft lighting and lingerie.  Your curls seem curlier, your face lovelier, your body more tempting than ever.

Though the idea of pursuing a real fling is mortifying, you lament the lack of company in an abstract way.  You feel pretty and ready and wound up.  When such a fancy strikes, the best form of satisfaction is found in self-appreciation.

The taboo of filming yourself always triples your arousal.   Even if there is no real audience, you can’t help but feel regarded. 

Eyes closed, phone camera filming, you imagine a certain pair of dark eyes on you.  You make the vaguest attempt to think of something else, peripherally aware that you shouldn’t fantasize about your best friend like this, but the attempt is useless.  It will always be Hyunjin.  Hyunjin with his fiery red hair, his smirks, his expressive brows and dark eyes.  Hyunjin’s hands, his fluid hips, his athleticism.  Hyunjin in black and leather, so contrary to your modest simplicity. Hyunjin sweaty and raw and determined, pinning you under him. 

Hyunjin, the person you know and like and love more than anything. 

You lift the babydoll and twist, filming yourself through the mirror, showing where a thick toy disappears inside of you.  You rock a little, so wet you can hear it, every nerve tingling as you become someone else in your reflection.  With the apartment to yourself, you don’t restrain any noises, especially when you sit back and fuck yourself with the toy.  You stop filming because you need that hand to finish, but you are so close that it only takes a few touches to climax. 

You slump back, satisfied for a while, then a little embarrassed.  You have a quick shower then climb into bed where you can’t help but watch your video.   You imagine a particular someone else watching it and it winds you up all over again.  You are still wet and sensitive, your fingers slipping smoothly into your shorts.  Your put the phone down and think of Hyunjin’s long fingers, his breath on your neck and his lips grazing your skin as he works his lovely hand inside you. 

When you are finished, truly finished, you feel momentarily miserable in your loneliness.  You try to imagine a version of yourself that went with Hyunjin to the bar, but even that fantasy only gets you so far.  Nothing would have happened.  Nothing has ever happened.  

Hyunjin interrupts your wallowing stream of self-pity.  He texts you a rather exasperated-looking selfie, captioning it with, I miss you, I’d rather be at home.  

It makes you smile.  It is probably foolish, but suppressing it is useless so you surrender to the warm glow in your chest. 

You text back a heart.  He replies, you never told me what you were reading.   He must be truly bored if he is texting about your books, but you dutifully reply like there is nothing unusual about the question.   He sends back a smiling emoji and a string of hearts.

You fall asleep after that.  You wake in the morning to a slew of missed text messages, Hyunjin insisting that he is having the worst night of his life because you didn’t come with him.  This is nonsense, of course, but he attacks you with an arsenal of teary-eyed emojis so you send an obligatory heart his way.  You are too sleepy to formulate a rejoinder, much less type one, so it will have to suffice. 

You click through your phone to wake up, still foggy after exhausting all notifications.  You open your photo album and find your video from last night.  You click on it just as a message alert swings down.  You instinctively swipe it away, but your clumsy finger opens the messenger.  You click around a little haphazardly, finger flying everywhere. 

After a bit of sleepy swiping, you close everything then check the message.  The text you just swiped was from Hyunjin, some goofy good morning remark with a squinty-eyed selfie under it.  Hyunjin does his make-up so severely these days so you like his softer, bare-faced selfies, especially because you know he sends them to no one else.  He will post elaborate photos all over his social media, but the simple stuff is for you. 

But you have no time to enjoy the selfie, because you are distracted by your own unwitting reply. 

Oh no.

You snap up so quickly that it nearly causes whiplash.  You are wide awake now, staring at the paused video of you in a white satin babydoll. 

You slap a hand over your mouth.  For a long moment, all you can do is stare.  Your head feels fuzzy, a radiating aura of fantastical insanity clouding your periphery.  Then you realize it is actually just your hair, because you fell asleep so suddenly and didn’t put on your bonnet. 

You look in the mirror.  You look like someone electrocuted you.  Fitting, because that’s what you feel like. 

Your phone buzzes.  In your silent but sublime mania, you dropped your phone facedown on the blanket.  You are tempted to hurl the demonic device across the room but that will solve nothing.  

You pick up the phone.  This is probably what execution feels like. 

Hyunjin, perpetually artistic in every capacity, even the literary, summarizes the exchange with one poetic text:

?!     

You fling yourself facedown on the bed and kick your legs like a petulant child.  The sky does not open, you are not struck by lightning, and the earth does not gobble you up, so you roll over and shakily type a reply. 

That was an accident, you write.  Surprisingly, once you start typing, it is hard to stop.  You continue:

Oh my good gracious, Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin, I am so sorry.  I cannot apologize to you enough. 

I assure you that was a complete accident.

I would never accost you so unsuspectingly with unprovoked licentious content.

An ellipses appears in the corner, Hyunjin typing a reply.  It feels like your stomach has folded in on itself.  You lay there with your hand cupped over it, willing yourself to explode.  But no, it would be very rude to explode in Hyunjin’s spare bedroom.  Bad enough you have attacked him with your inappropriate spank fodder, it would be uncouth to make him clean your spattered guts off the wall. 

Hyunjin finally replies, that makes sense… you aren’t the unprovoked licentious content type usually…

I assure you I am not, you reply.  I keep these videos to myself.  I would never intentionally spring them on you.

There’s more than one?? he replies, and you are mortified all over again.  Maybe you should just explode after all.

I assure you I will keep those where they are, you reply.  I cannot apologize enough.  If you want me to leave, I will pack my things immediately.  You are not one for extreme emotion, but you feel an unfamiliar stabbing in your eyes.  You realize with horror that it is the threat of tears as you imagine Hyunjin banishing you from his life forever.  Other people come and go but there is only one Hyunjin.  He is irreplaceable in your esteem, even if he dresses like a goth Las Vegas showgirl.

His replies come flying in, one after the other:

Whoa whoa

it’s okay

calm down

pretty girl hey hey hey

I don’t want you going anywhere

You take a breath and calm yourself.  You do Hyunjin a great disservice by thinking he would destroy your friendship over an accident.  You blame your embarrassment for your poor rationality. 

I should be apologizing to you, he says.  He continues swiftly: 

I kinda clicked on it…? 

I didn’t know what it was.  But I stopped once I did

I feel really bad

See baby now we’re both embarrassed idiots <3     

You can’t help but laugh, just a little, the entire mishap suddenly comically preposterous.  You smile fondly at your phone.  The unexpected address of baby gives you a heart flutter, but then the rest of it makes you pause.  A different embarrassment creeps into the corner of your brain, something gross and mean that interprets his words ungenerously.  Stopping would be the gentlemanly thing to do, so you should commend his restraint.   Still, some half-insane part of you is offended that the only emotion it invoked in him was “bad”. 

It made him feel bad.  Goodness.  Talk about an ego blow. 

The least you can do is soothe his conscience.  You have already put your foot in your mouth, not to mention toys in unspeakable places, so you figure another penetrative misstep cannot hurt the situation.   You write, I don’t mind you watching it.  I just feel horrific for sending it in the first place.  I really am sorry.

The ellipses appears.  Then disappears.  Then appears.  Then disappears.  Then appears.  Then disappears. 

You start to wonder if you should check on him.  He is just one room over, after all.   But you would rather explode once and for all than face him right now. 

The buzzer goes off in the main room, signalling a visitor outside. Hyunjin finally texts, one sec.  Then you hear him clamouring around in the next room.  Hyunjin is very graceful when he deigns to apply himself but other times he has the equilibrium of an overgrown gazelle.  All those limbs clatter around his bedroom and you think he knocks a lamp over. 

It sounds like the visitor is just a package delivery.  You leave him to his devices.  In the face of chaos, routine is a reliable companion.  You get up to dress yourself for the day.  Your hair is trying to force its way into a new dimension so it should take a while to fix.  

Everything will be fine.

-

Everything is fine until it is not.   Well, Hyunjin’s complexion is red as his hair when you meet face-to-face, but he recovers with an expected degree of poise and equanimity.  Despite your own internal chaos, you feign a similar indifference. 

Verisimilitude, you tell yourself.   Pretend everything is fine and everything will be fine. 

You think there might be an undercurrent of awkwardness to your interactions, but your social ineptitude makes it difficult to discern.  Your usual frankness fails as deliberately enquiring after Hyunjin’s opinion would consequently highlight the very issue you are striving to ignore.  Verisimilitude means nothing if you look him in the eye and ask if your pussy has made the friendship awkward.   

After a few days of polite camaraderie, you opt to solve your problems by running away.  You inform Hyunjin you will be occupied with a research project and thus mostly absent for the duration of its completion.   By the time you emerge from the depths of the university library, hopefully this entire embarrassing situation will be forgotten.    

You throw yourself into your academic distraction.   A truly comprehensive research project encompasses obstacles, minute quandaries you inevitably resolve, but this time it feels like there are no answers to be found.  No resolutions, no conclusions. 

Your anxiety is ultimately exacerbated.  Even your dreams suffer.  You wake multiple nights in a row from nightmares caused by stress.  Your usual pragmatic thoughtfulness abandons you in the dark, every shadow just another terror waiting to unleash itself. 

You wake from yet another nightmare.  Your heart is palpitating and you are too hot under your covers.  You kick to freedom and swing out of bed, whipping your silk bonnet onto the floor in a rare display of aggression.  You are frustrated with your seemingly inescapable burdens.  You want to pick up your phone and text Hyunjin despite the late hour, but that is the one thing you vehemently cannot do right now. 

You sigh and leave bed.  It is the middle of the night so you cannot start the day, but maybe a glass of water will refresh you. 

It seems your friend had the same idea.  Hyunjin is puttering around the kitchen when you stumble into the soft golden lamplight.   

“Hey,” he says, not unfriendly but maybe a little uncertain. 

“Hello,” you duly reply.

You are definitely awake now.  Hyunjin is standing there wearing a pair of black boxers and a t-shirt.  His red hair is loose around his bare face, unkempt but somehow still charming.  He is so effortlessly beautiful.  You feel like a mongrel in your baggy shirt and panties, your hair down like a messy lion mane. 

You try not to stare at him, meeting his gaze politely only to find him blinking quite wildly, a stuttering breath spilling over his full lips.  He clamps his mouth shut and returns your stare, smiling a thin smile that does not reach his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

It is a thoughtless query, no doubt.  The sort of inane question one poses because decorum dictates it is appropriate chatter.  Are you okay.  Yes, how are you. 

But you are looking at the beautiful and completely unattainable man you are so irrevocably in love with, and you feel horrible and disgusting, and you sent an embarrassing video that somehow humiliated him even more than you, and even your reliable books and academic joys are lacking these days. 

You can count on one hand the number of times you have cried over the years.  It is not something that comes easily to you.  You are not made of stone, despite the occasional lambaste at your expense, but your emotions seldom manifest according to the unspoken rules of human conduct.  But right now your eyes strain and your throat feels rough.  You sniff and shake your head. 

“No,” you say.  “I’m not okay.”  

A single tear falls.  From you, that is practically a waterfall. 

Hyunjin snaps out of whatever trance had him so enthralled.  You cannot see him clearly through your watery eyes, but you feel his hands as they wrap around your arms.  Hyunjin is an artist, those long fingers deft and nimble and steady.  You shiver when he brushes your hair off your neck, when he cups your face in his hand and strokes your cheek tenderly. 

“Hey, hey, pretty girl,” he says.  “What’s this?  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say automatically.  You hate being a burden.  Feelings belong in bottles, not streaming down faces in salty rivulets in the middle of the night when everyone is in their underwear.  

But it is too late to spare your dignity.  Hyunjin is wiping away your tears and looking at you with abject concern, his expressive dark brows furrowed and his eyes so intensely locked on yours.  You heave a sigh. 

“A lot of things,” you admit.  “I’m sorry, Hyunjin.  It’s just stress.  My research.  You know how it is.” 

He does not look satisfied, all that concern still scrawled across his face.  He swipes his thumb across your cheek again.  Then he is pulling you towards his chest, arms open for an embrace that makes no demands but simply offers.  You are usually stiff and awkward when people hug you, but Hyunjin is not just people.  You fall into his arms and all but collapse there. 

Your next sigh is filled with relief, your head on his shoulder and your hands curled up on his chest.   He runs his palm down your hair, soothingly, his other arm secure around you. 

You do not know how long you stand there.  Long enough he stops catching his pinky on errant curls.  Soon he is smoothly running his fingers down your hair, a gentle rhythm that lulls you to drowsiness even while standing on your feet.        

“Come on,” Hyunjin says when he sees your drooping eyelids. 

You blink to attention, looking at him questioningly.   He gives you a quick smile then takes your hand.  To your surprise, he leads you to his bedroom.  The lights are off but the blinds are open and an ocean of blue moonlight floods the room.  It is bright enough you can make your way around his bed without stubbing any toes. 

While he folds back the bedcovers, you stop at his desk, brow crinkling at the scraps littering his work space.  His canvas depicts something floral, half-painted and oversaturated but clearly a bundle of flowers.  The rough sketches scribbled in the margins of his drafts do not depict flowers.  They are little portraits, some doodled distractedly with wiggly lines, and others more precisely drawn, painstakingly, almost lovingly.

That’s me, you think, looking at the woman who overwhelms his art.  It must be.  The unmistakable cascade of curls makes it irrefutable.  But the likeness is far too flattering to bear your full resemblance.  This girl is extremely pretty, even if she does have your quirky, lopsided smile.  Either Hyunjin has met your better looking doppelganger, or… this is simply how he sees you. 

“This is your room,” you say instead of that drawing is me.  It would be embarrassing if he denied it.  It would be even more embarrassing if he confirmed it. 

“Ha-ha, yes,” Hyunjin says, none-the-wiser.  He is arranging pillows for you.  By the time he looks your way, you are facing the bed.  He beckons you over.  “Come on,” he says.  “Like the old days.  It’ll make everything better.  I promise.” 

Your heart is working overtime in its rushing and pounding.  You shuffle to the bed, smiling your quirky smile then feeling even more feverish, thinking about him having your smile memorized.   Oh dear, why is that so deeply embarrassing?  It should be a compliment.  Maybe it is because no one else ever looks at you that closely, at least not with such affection.  

You are not good with attention.  You were bullied for your peculiarities quite badly in childhood.  Invisibility became something you sought, because the alternative was always much worse.  Attention meant derision.  If someone was paying attention to your half-smiles or awkward reactions, it was for the express purpose of mocking them. 

When you were ten years old, Hyunjin and his family moved in next door.  Those ramshackle houses, long weathered and much loved, leaned towards each other as if magnetized.  At the closet joining, the sill of your bedroom window touched his.  

An elderly widow previous owned his house. She had a puppy who would scamper up to that window.  You were quite devastated to learn a boy would be replacing the dog.  Boys and dogs were both slobbery creatures, but at least puppies could fetch. 

You were resolved to ignore your new neighbours.  You spared a fleeting glance at the moving van then occupied yourself with a book.  

A few hours later, your peace was forever disturbed.  A toy car flew in your window and landed at your feet.  You popped your curly head over the sill to face a dark-haired, dimple-cheeked boy. 

“Meet me downstairs,” he said.  He did not wait for an answer, dashing away before you could even blink at him.

You picked up the toy car and marched downstairs, determined to return it and explain to this boy, in no uncertain terms, that he was not allowed to throw things in your window, that he could have hit your head or one of your dolls, and unless he was prepared to offer financial compensation he should keep his cars to himself. 

The second your feet touched the lawn, he was there.  He grabbed your hand and dragged you off, already prattling about where he came from and where he was starting school and his favourite food and – everything.  You did not speak for a whole ten minutes. 

“My name is Hyunjin,” he finally said, after regaling you with the detailed events of his decade-long life.  “What’s yours?” 

You told him.  You also returned his toy car but you could no longer remember the script for your lecture.  He smiled at you, took your hand, and raced off again, towing you behind him.  

Hyunjin was very loved, even as a child.  It never occurred to him that someone might not like him.  He made friends so effortlessly.  His confidence was easy, his gravitas electrifying even at that age. 

His congeniality was infectious and you found yourself reciprocating his enthusiasm.  He was a natural showman and a creative visionary even at that age, coming up with detailed games of pretend with very involved storylines.  You ran amok in your yards, dressed in your costumes, and at night you giggled at your windows, close enough that if you stretched out every finger you could clasp hands.   

Climbing across that meager gap was an obvious inevitability.  When you were teenagers, your parents expressly forbade spending the night unsupervised.  The boy-girl dynamic concerned them despite your ardent protestations that it was not like that.  It just meant you got good at sneaking around. 

You sit on his bed now, remembering the many nights you curled up together just like this.  You would talk about utter nonsense and you would talk about your deepest thoughts, at least until the sound of your father’s footsteps sent Hyunjin hurtling back towards the window. 

There are no interruptions now.  You lay down beside him.  You squeak when he tugs you across the bed, pulling you closer to him.  You find yourself clinging to him, like you are suspended in that blue ocean of moonlight and he is your only life preserver.  He does not seem to mind, wrapping his arm around you, fingers tracing circles down your spine.  

“Your research will be fine,” he says.  “I wish I could help with those things, but I’m not smart like you are.  You’ll figure it out, okay, baby?”

You hope he does not notice how the pet name makes you shiver.  It really is quite unfair.  How is a person meant to maintain verisimilitude if Hwang Hyunjin is calling them baby so nonchalantly?

The flattery brings discomfort so you deflect.  “I’m not that smart,” you say.  “I’m just pathetic enough to waste my life in a stack of books.” 

You concede the self-deprecation is fishing for reassurance.  You burrow yourself deeper at his side.

“Hey,” he says sharply, tugging on a lock of hair so you look up at him.  He tsks and shakes his head, wisps of red hair appearing dark in the moonlight and falling into his face as he gazes at you.  “Don’t talk about my girl like that,” he says with another playful tug.  “You know what happens when people do that.” 

You find yourself smiling despite yourself.  Because, yes, Hyunjin has often defended you.  One time, when you were about fifteen, you were at his house with him and his school friends.  You were all in the yard and you excused yourself to wash your hands.  You returned just in time to see Hyunjin backhand one of the boys.  The boy stumbled then swung back.  Soon everyone was trying to pull the pair of them apart while they bit and kicked and swung at each other. 

When everyone went home, you and Hyunjin sat on his bed.  You were cleaning a nasty cut on his cheek, where the other boy’s ring broke skin. 

“Stop that now,” you said, because he was dramatically hissing and cringing while you rubbed ointment in his wound.  “You brought this on yourself,” you scolded him.  “I hope you learned your lesson.  There is absolutely no argument worth escalating to that degree of violence, you understand?”

“There is,” he said, pouting. 

“No.”  You pinched his arm and he yelped.  “There isn’t.” 

“This time there was,” he said.  Your mouth opened with a ready retort, but he interrupted, “It was you.” 

There was a moment of silence, your hand still on his cheek.  He was pouting into the distance and avoiding your eyes. 

“What was me?” you asked after a beat. 

“He called you strange,” Hyunjin said.  “And other things. I told him to stop and he didn’t.  So I made him stop.” 

It honestly never occurred to you that someone might stand up for you.  You hardly even defended yourself, long since resigned to the reality that some people were just not nice.   You were stunned into silence at your friend’s confession.  Only when he looked at you, a tentative sideways glance, did you clear your throat and nod. 

“Well,” you said.  “I am strange.  If you’re going to get into a fight, then next time make it about something worthwhile.” 

He smiled.  You smiled back.

You are quite certain you fell in love that day.  Curling up in his arms felt different after that.  You felt flustered and feverish, though you hid it very well.   You could not bear the thought of losing his friendship and, besides, it was such a cliché. You at your nicest still looked like the before shot of every romance movie makeover and he got stopped by model scouts while lounging in his sweatpants.  Cliché indeed.  That story never ended well.  You could not abide by it.  It was better to repress and deny those feelings. 

You are laying on his chest now, listening to his heartbeat, yours skipping erratically in your chest.  You think your affection has only grown more over the years, despite your effort to quell the brunt of it.  Those efforts seem ridiculous in the calming midnight blue, this comfortable little haven with no reality beyond the perimeter of the bed.  Your thigh drifts over his naturally, your bodies angled to each other.  He continues stroking your back. 

“Please don’t say those things again,” he says, his voice gentler in the calming quiet. 

“Sorry,” you grumble. 

“So many people admire you,” he continues.  “I… I do.  I know I’m a dumbass and my opinion isn’t worth much… but I think you’re the best.  You know that, right?” 

“Yes,” you say in a weak voice, feeling watery again.  You sniff.  “And you’re not a dumbass.  Your opinion means a lot.” 

His hand slides up and dives under all that hair, then he cups the nape of your neck.  You hide your face in his shoulder when he pulls you even closer.  Your palm is over his heart.  You feel the racing thrum. 

“Were you having nightmares?” he asks, because he knows you too well. 

“Yes,” you admit.  “The usual stress dreams.”   

“Poor baby,” he says, massaging your neck.  “I wish there was something I could do.” 

Keep touching me like that, you almost say, your frankness compelling you to blurt that vulnerable truth.  That his touch feels so good it makes you forget all your insecurities and grievances.  You will think clearly when he lets go, but right now his deft massage loosens the tension in your neck and shoulders.  You feel yourself go lax against him, limbs like jelly, and warmth spreading from somewhere low and deep within you. 

Your hand leaves his chest.  Dreamy and absent-mindedly, you reach to touch him like he is touching you. 

All you do is tuck some hair behind his ear, then trail your fingers ever so lightly down the side of his neck.  It is barely a caress. 

Despite the lightness of the touch, you feel his reaction.  Quick and unquestionable, his breath catches like he is surprised and his whole body jerks toward you.  Your leg is still thrown over his middle.  You can feel how fast he gets hard.

Men just do that, you think, even while remembering your ex-boyfriend did not react that way, not that fast, and not to that kind of touch.  You try to reason with yourself regardless, coming up with a million biological reasons why your best friend is getting turned on.  It has absolutely nothing to do with you wrapping around him in bed wearing nothing but a t-shirt and panties and tickling sensitive places on his neck. 

No.  It must be something else. 

Feeling awkward, you lift your head to deflect.  You force a smile and a weak laugh. 

“You cannot judge me in the morning,” you say.  “I am going to look awful.  My hair is going to be standing up in ten different directions.  You must promise me right now you will be gentlemanly and not deride me for the untameable monstrosity that latches onto my head overnight.  Do you promise?” 

He replies in a most ungentlemanly manner. 

He kisses you. 

His hand still cups your nape.  He pulls you close.  His lips are so full and his mouth so warm.  You must seem limp in comparison, so shocked that you just lay there, mouth and eyes wide open.  It is considerably more difficult to convince yourself this is not what it seems, that it has nothing to do with you.  Unless he is in immediate need of CPR.  Perhaps he is seeking resuscitation because he is feeling lightheaded. 

That is ridiculous.  It is you who is light-headed, eyes closing as you succumb to the dizzying dark.  He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth against yours. 

For all that his kiss is very thorough, it is not overly demanding.  He coaxes rather than takes, all slow seduction as his lips take yours, as he sucks your bottom lip then licks at your open mouth.  He swallows down your gasp. 

It feels like his hands are everywhere.  In your hair one moment then around your waist the next.  You think you are floating but then you are being pressed into the pillows.  When you open your eyes, he is half on top of you, propping himself up on one arm while his other hand tilts your face up. 

A stuttering thought dances on your lips, your eyes wide and breath short.   Is this real?  This cannot be real.  Can it? 

That bemused thought, tangled in your breath, dissolves into a surprised whine – a pretty, mewling sound that you did not know was inside you.  You have never made that noise, not once, not even alone. 

Hyunjin draws it out of you, gracefully manoeuvring himself, his thigh pressed between yours.  He nudges your legs apart, somehow spreads your thighs with a gentle push of his hips.  Your shirt rides up over your belly and you feel so hot and flushed, realizing you are barely clothed.  Somehow, before now, it did not truly occur to you.  It was a mere observation as you fumbled through your various anxieties. 

Now it is all you can think about it, how vulnerable you are, how little there is between you.  You gather fistfuls of his t-shirt when he presses against you, when he keeps your thighs open with his own and brings your bodies together.  You make a surprised sound, embarrassed because you are so wet and so hot where he is so hard and touching you.  A million nerves come to life under his weight, sending sparks shooting to every extremity.  It is a lot.  It is so much.  Too much?    

“Hyunjin,” you rasp, clutching his shirt so tightly that your hands are shaking.  “Wait.” 

He stops immediately, holding himself above you. 

He is out of breath, his chest moving as quickly as yours.  His hair is as dishevelled for once, though it makes him look ruggedly sexy.  There is already a sheen of perspiration on his hairline.  His heart is thundering where you touch his chest. 

“Okay?” he asks, breathlessly.

You nod, taking a few deep breaths before your voice is under control.  “I just… overwhelmed… I think…”   

It all happened so fast.  One moment you were thinking about how he would never want you that way, and then suddenly he was kissing you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. 

Hyunjin is something of a rakish libertine, but his partners are always so enthusiastic and friendly, all his pursuits fully consensual even in their brevity.  He would never use and discard someone.  He would certainly never use you.  But your heart is brimming with emotions and this is causing them to bubble and boil over.  You cannot, under any circumstances, be physical with him and just move on.  You do not work like that. 

You have written papers, won awards for your ability to string sentences together.  You cannot find two words to put together right now.  Nothing to explain why you have to stop, how you do not want to stop, how desperately you love him, why you want him.  Why is it so hard to say?  Is it hard for everyone or is this another peculiarity of yours?  It is always so hard to tell. 

You close your eyes and catch your breath.  He gives you space, laying down beside you while catching his own breath.  He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it back. 

You look at each other at the same time. 

“I still want to sleep here,” you say.  You hope the words are enough.  You are not upset.  You still want his company. 

He nods.  “Of course,” he says, his voice rough in a way you have never heard before.  It sends an electric shock through your body, igniting between your legs.  You push your shirt down when his gaze wanders there and he swallows, hard.   He lays flat on his back and closes his eyes, his lips moving like he is murmuring to himself.  You think he might be counting. 

You lay back as well, looking at his handsome profile then up at the ceiling.  You are not sure that counting will slow the race of your heart or the muddled mess of your mind.   You try anyway, backwards from one-hundred. 

You are asleep before fifty.

-

You wake to a predictable mess of hair.  You yawn and stretch and scratch your head. 

Then you remember why your hair is a mess.  Why your bonnet is on the floor in a different room.  That you are in Hyunjin’s bed and last night—

You look at his side of the bed.  The shape of his body indents the sheets and the space is still warm.  He must have just left.  Your heart is already pounding like it wants to leap out of your chest.  It does not feel like the healthiest way to the start the day. 

You are not sure if you are giddy or terrified.  How do other people cope with the sheer inundation of sensation that is wrought by desire for another person?  How are you expected to carry it inside of you, all day every day, with absolutely no reprieve?  How on earth are you expected to walk into the next room and start a conversation with a man who had his tongue in your mouth last night, especially when that man holds a lifetime of friendship in his hands? 

At least the video you sent was an honest accident.  Verisimilitude will do you no good here.  There will be no pretending it did not transpire. 

You should have just exploded when you had the chance. 

You slide out of bed and cross the room.  You poke your head out the door.  The bathroom door is closed and you can hear the shower running.  You take the opportunity to scurry across the apartment, back to your temporary room where you close the door then slide down it. 

You turn yourself into a boneless lump on the floor.  Then you huff and stand.   

Something will need to be done.  Conversations will need to be had.  That is simply the rub of it.  If he clarifies it was all a physical reaction, you will politely inform him that such a dynamic will be impossible to pursue.   If he claims it was because he likes you the way you like him –

It doesn’t matter.  That will not happen.  You convince yourself of this, running several scripts through your head as you get yourself dressed for the day.  You have a conversation with your reflection in the mirror, making some very good points to the abstract Hyunjin of your imagination.  He is very compliant.  If only real people could stick to your pre-determined scripts the way their imaginary counterparts do. 

You stand in front of the mirror, assessing your appearance one last time.  Your hair is neat as possible, the more unruly ringlets pinned back.  You are wearing a modest sweater and a long skirt.  You slip into your shoes and finally leave your room.  You hope Hyunjin is still home.  You want to talk to him while the script is fresh in your mind and your appearance is composed. 

But then you see Hyunjin, making his morning coffee, also dressed for the day.  He is wearing all black, shirt and suit jacket and trousers and boots, with a sparkling slash of a silver necklace.  His make-up is breath-taking, severe but beautiful.  It leaves you slack-jawed.  He looks sleek and sexy, but still this side of rebellious with his vibrant red hair and dark make-up. 

You cannot help but stare, thoroughly looking him over before you blurt, “Wow. Why do you look so good today?”

A surprised little laugh bursts out of him, almost like a yelp

“I’m taking some photos today.”  His gaze is very intense.  Or maybe it is the make-up.  It makes your heart palpitate regardless, dark eyes fixed so resolutely on you as he smiles and says, “Thank you.  You look lovely, pretty girl.”

“Nonsense,” you say quickly.  “I look no different than usual.”

“You always look lovely,” he says without any hesitation. 

“Be quiet,” you reply.  He is already preposterously off-script. 

It makes him laugh again.  He covers his mouth politely, shaking his head as he pours his coffee.   He offers you some but you decline.  You want to speak your piece and be done with this awkward situation once and for all. 

Hyunjin takes a sip of his coffee, looking at you over the rim of the cup. 

This should be easy.  You have the words prepared; all you have to do is say them.

“I have to go,” you say instead, because your good sense flitters into oblivion and takes your words with it. 

Hyunjin chokes on his coffee, sputtering while you dash to the door.  Your purse is sitting on the shoe rack so you snatch it.  Your heart is racing like a prey animal, your predator a red-headed pretty boy wiping coffee off his chin as he stumbles after you.   He says your name but you ignore him, fumbling around for your keys. 

“I’ll be back after dinner,” you say.  “Lots of research.  Reading.  You know how it is.  I might lose track of time.  We’ll talk later, yes?  Yes.  Okay.  Goodbye.” 

He reaches you when you open the door.  You can see he wants to talk.  You know you should talk.  No good ever comes from prolonging the inevitable.  But you suddenly cannot face him. 

You know you are being cowardly.  You know it is unkind because he might want answers too.  But you are not good and open like him.   You are shut off and shut down and shutting doors. 

You stand in the hallway, the closed door between you.  Your heart is still pounding.  You take a deep breath then turn to leave.  You are halfway down the corridor when you realize you need your work bag.  Your purse has basic necessities but no study tools. 

You stomp your foot, frustrated with yourself and this stupid emotional tempest.  If only you were as cold-hearted as people said.  But you feel everything with so much burning intensity that you fear it will burn you down to cinders. 

You pace in the hallway for a few minutes.  It accomplishes nothing but stalling for time, because you cannot go anywhere without your bag.  You don’t even have your parking pass or library card.  With a resigned sigh, you glumly unlock the door and step back into the apartment. 

Fate has opted to spare you a chagrined return. Hyunjin is in his bedroom and does not hear you come in. 

You hurry to your room.  If you grab your bag and bolt, he might not even notice you returned at all. 

Unfortunately, you are a disaster. 

You were so frustrated yesterday, overstimulated and erupting at the slightest provocation.  Then your bag strap had the audacity to catch on the doorknob, sending papers flying.  In mature retaliation, you dumped all the contents of your bag on the floor.  It was a mildly satisfying expulsion of frustration at the time.  Now you want to shriek because it will take a few good minutes to organize and pack everything again. 

You lean your door closed, leaving it cracked just a sliver.  You plan another mental script, despite what little good it did last time, explaining to imaginary Hyunjin that you have deadlines and, yes, it is inconvenient, and, oh, maybe we should order take-out for dinner, yes, because everything is normal between us and no one needs to grapple with the onward progression of time and the subsequent shifting relationship dynamics therein—

You hear a creak.  You pause, kneeling by the door, holding a stack of papers.  You peer through the sliver to see Hyunjin, sighing to himself as he ambles across the room and plops down on the couch.  He leans forward, elbows on his knees, scrolling on his phone. 

You find yourself once more arrested by the sight of him.  He looks so beautiful but also starkly masculine, sophisticated but dangerous.  A gentleman and a bad boy and every other dreamy amalgamation of boy crushes. 

He tucks some hair behind his ear and you feel hot, remembering how you touched him just the same, remembering the reaction it garnered. 

You fantasize about a braver version of yourself, someone brash and confident enough to approach him.  He would look up at you with those smoky eyes, curious but wanting. You would touch him, that same simple touch, and he would rear up and kiss you with abandon once more.  You would not even need a conversation because action would speak for itself. 

Instead you are peering through cracks in doors, separated thanks to your own cowardice.

He touches his fingers to his chin.  Whatever is on his phone is causing a great deal of deliberation.  He turns off his screen and lays his phone facedown.  His contemplation looks almost painful. 

You want to comfort him because he is evidently perturbed by something.  But the longer you wait, the more awkward it will be to reveal yourself.

He heaves a great sigh, doubling over, his face in his hands.  He shakes his head.  He looks truly forlorn, so you finally lay the papers down and try to think of something to say.  You watch as he leans back, as he picks up his phone again.  He stares down at the screen. 

You are still psyching yourself up, preparing yet another useless script. 

Then he turns up the volume.  

You have rewatched the video you sent him more than once, assessing the details to torture yourself.  Maybe, also, secretly, sometimes… imagining him watching it.  Then shaking your head and turning it off, because he said himself it made him feel bad and nothing else.  So that was impossible. 

So why is he watching it now?

Because he is.  Unmistakably.  You know the sound of your own voice.  You know the sounds in that video.  You sit there, wide-eyed, staring at him as he stares at you – the you in the video, the you in white satin, the you moaning and touching yourself, fucking yourself while you thought of him. 

He puts the phone on his knee, not moving his eyes from the screen as he peels off his jacket and chucks it aside.  You can only blink, stupefied.  This does not feel real, just like that kiss.  Except that kiss was real, this is real, and you are watching Hyunjin as he slouches back and parts his knees and cups his hand between his legs.  He touches himself with those long fingers, fingers you imagined while touching yourself in the very video that has him captivated. 

He picks up the phone to rewind, all while undoing his pants then reaching inside. 

You realize he is about to get his dick out, right here, right in front of you, completely unwittingly, and that snaps you back to reality.  Far too quickly, because you make a surprised noise.

He freezes and looks up, first to the front door, then to your bedroom door.   You make eye contact very briefly. 

Then you slam the door shut. 

-

You do the only logical thing.

You do not go to the library.  Hyunjin leaves for his photography session and you pace your bedroom about a dozen times, then you sit down and write.  You make a chronological notation of every emotional turning point in your friendship.  You chart the data and sketch a few rough diagrams.  You arrange all the appropriate paperwork and laminate a few important spreadsheets.  Then you clip them all in a binder and pick up your phone and think of how to succinctly summarize three hours worth of deliberation.   

The facts fall thusly:

You accidentally sent your best friend a sexually explicit video of yourself. 

You granted him permission to watch it.

He watched it. 

You caught him in a compromising position with it.

You made a spreadsheet. 

Based on your calculations, the probability of Hyunjin returning your feelings seems fairly substantial.  But you are not sure how to articulate any verdict based on the facts presented.  Your spreadsheets contain data, not a resolution. 

Hyunjin is a romantic and soulful creature.  You wooed your last boyfriend with a portfolio but he was nothing like Hyunjin.   That courtship was an amicable affair and little more.  The break-up was cordial and tearless.  You shook hands then walked in opposite directions. 

A memory comes to mind. 

You and Hyunjin.  Starting university together.  Back when the world first offered itself to your young adult selves.

One day he skipped class and you went to check on him, only to find him curled up in bed in his baggiest sweatshirt, sniffling away.  He was blonde then, a burst of starlight in every room he occupied.  It was so strange and so wrong seeing him so grey and dejected.   

He laid his head in your lap and let you pet his hair.  It took some cajoling to get the story out of him.  His secondary major was dance studies and he spent months preparing a showcase.  Apparently his instructor did not offer him the same thorough critiques he gave other students.  You tried to say that was a good thing, but he insisted it was not. 

“He doesn’t think I’m worth improving,” he said.   “He told me I’ll get by because of my looks.  That’s the only thing I have.  No one really likes me or thinks I’m worth anything.” 

“I know it’s hard because you are a natural drama queen, but don’t be dramatic, Hyunjin,” you said.  “Plenty of people like you just fine.  They adore you, in fact.  And you are very talented.  It is not your fault if this one person cannot see past appearances.”

“It’s not just one person,” he said.  He sat up to wipe his tears.    

You sat awkwardly beside him, hands twitching with the desire to do something helpful but at a complete loss.  You never intentionally sought comfort, keeping your feelings to yourself, so you were bad at giving it. 

You put a hand on his shaking shoulder.  “Hyunjin,” you said, imploringly. 

“No,” he said, miserable, his face all scrunched up.  “Everyone leaves me when I’m not what they want, and I’m never what they want, because I’m just a worthless face and nothing else.” 

It was very strange to hear him express such a sentiment.  Hyunjin was always surrounded by doting crowds.  But you supposed he had his share of heartbreak as a consequence of knowing so many people.   He gave away his heart so easily and it was sometimes returned in pieces.  It did not stop him from trying again, which you always commended.  You wished you knew how to express that. 

“We’re friends, are we not?” you finally asked.  “I care for you very dearly.”   

“You do?” he asked.  Even his voice sounded wet.  You grabbed a tissue and shoved it at him. 

“Of course I do,” you said.  “Though statistically no one can be truly unique in every capacity, and friendships and relationships are often founded by chance and choice, I nonetheless consider your amalgamation of parts to be quite magnificent, and I find your character irreplaceable.  You are, indeed, very handsome, but also witty and playful, dramatic to your detriment but nonetheless entertaining, creative and soulful, and you have a defensive streak and natural bite, but a fragile heart beneath that, and I rather admire that.  I am afraid I will like you forever, regardless of our proximity or friendship status.  Such is the nature of affection.  Why are you still crying?”

You were immensely confused when your consolation generated more tears, but you accepted your best friend was an emotional riddle.  

Hyunjin has many layers.  You have always known this.  You told him as much.  You have done him a terrible disservice by assuming the worst, that he would be shallow in regards to you.  He has always exhibited a fondness for your own depths. 

It is more difficult to accept him finding your surface just as attractive.   It seems conclusive, though.  There is no shortage of sexual content in the world.  He could have watched anything.   So it is safe to say, touching his dick while watching you fuck yourself might have been a demonstration of a certain level of attraction.  Possibly. 

You sit on your bed, staring at your phone.  You jump when it buzzes with a text alert.  You open it, your heart skipping beats when you see it is from Hyunjin. 

I’m sorry for this morning, he writes.  

I can stay at Felix’s place until you’re comfortable okay..  Please just tell me

i deleted the video now.  and the message where you sent it.  I should have done that right away

I know you said you didn’t mind but still.  I should have just

just done it all differently

The messages come flying in one right after the other.  You imagine him a mirror to you, sitting somewhere, slouched over his phone.  Hair dishevelled from jamming his fingers through it.  A shaky breath on his lips.

You look up, picturing him across from you.  You want to reach across the space between you, stretch out every finger, and clasp his hand.  You never want to let go. 

Your phone buzzes again.  You read his words and your heart floods with more than desire.  Rich with sentiment, it leaves you more breathless than a kiss.    

you mean everything to me.

He is still typing.  The ellipses in the corner flashes.  You suspect he will send you an endless stream of consciousness if you do not reply soon. 

You look at your binder of data, then you look at your phone, then you look at your binder, then you look at your phone.  You take a breath.  The decent and logical approach would be patience.  To study everything you have compiled.  To see if he concurs.  To communicate the best way to move forward, what that looks like, and how it should happen. 

You are not someone who intentionally takes risks.  You are not wild and spontaneous.  You are not brash or confident.  You are not sexy.

Verisimilitude, you remember.  Act like it is true, maybe it will be. 

You type.  

Hello, Hyunjin.

His ellipses disappears.

It is true.  I sent that video by accident.  But I did grant you permission to watch it.

You open your photo album.  There is the video, so inconspicuous, one of a dozen.  It is not your most extravagant nor the longest.  You were too eager in the moment to prolong anything.  You could film it better if you did it again.  But it is nonetheless the video that started this whole thing. 

Even though you were not trying, the video turned him on.  You are hot all over, remembering how he warred with himself before submitting.  You remember the amorous look on his face, how desperately he watched you while touching himself.  He could not rip his gaze away for even a moment. 

You click on the video.  You send it with your next message.

This is for you.

You can keep it.

Then you take a chance and write, I want you to keep it.

There is a long moment with no reply.  Or maybe it feels longer because you are holding your breath.  You exhale with a whoosh and a breathless laugh when he finally replies.   

fuck.

are you trying to kill me

You smile, though even that gets you hot, remembering your portrait doodled in the margins of his art.  A lightness fills your heart, recalling that, picturing him now.  You can imagine his wide, startled eyes, expressive dark brows lifting as he stares at his phone.

No, you write.  You are not sure how to respond to a flirtatious overture so you opt for simplicity.  You are not one to colour your statements with unnecessary artifice so you state your intentions without colourful obfuscations.  To clarify, you write, I fully consent to you masturbating to it.  It is only fair.  I was thinking of you while I made it. 

You wonder if he is still at the photography studio.  You can picture him sitting behind the camera, waiting for the next set, his make-up touched up, his black ensemble pristine, and his face humorously contorted. 

so you are trying to kill me, he writes.

and i thought you weren’t the unprovoked licentious content type....

You are fairly certain he is playing with you, but texts are even harder to construe than verbal tones.  You tilt your head, staring at the message, imagining his voice.  The little ellipses flashes in the corner, then you smile when his next message comes through. 

I’m just teasing you baby. 

He knows you so well.  Years of friendship have fortified the affection between you.  You were so foolish to ever think otherwise.   Of course he can picture you like you can picture him.  You feel as if he is holding you in those steady hands, comforting you with that loving touch as the tension leaves your body.  You feel safest curled against him and you always have.  The only difference now is he calls you baby and your heart does a flip.     

I see, you write.  Well.

Technically that was not wholly unprovoked.  It was very much within the context of our discussion. 

This one, however, is entirely unprovoked.

You send another video.  This one you filmed a while ago, back in your own bedroom at your townhouse.  You are wearing a sweater he bought you.  The gift was touching because there was no occasion.  He saw it and thought of you so he got it.  And he knows your tastes so well, your fit and size and style.  He knows you prefer a more modest ensemble in the world.    

This video is not modest.  You filmed the sweater from every angle then laid down, wearing nothing else.  You held a vibrator between your legs and arched your back and filmed yourself, every whimper and sigh and breath.  You stopped just before coming, dropping your phone to focus on your orgasm. 

You send the video and wait.  His ellipses appears and disappears then he finally writes:

fuck.

You flop back on the bed, biting your lip as his rather frantic messages fly in one after the other. 

god. pretty girl. you know i'm obsessed with you right?

jesus we did all this backwards.  i wanted to be cool when i told you but I’m a stupid mess.

fuck I’m about to have my photo taken

hiding in the bathroom because christ

what are you doing to me

where are you right now??

After all that, you simply answer, In bed.  You realize it sounds suggestive only after the fact, but you do not retract it.  Nerves gather inside you, blending into adrenaline and anticipation.  You know him well but you are not sure what he will say now.  This is new territory.  It is exhilarating.  You do not remember feeling this way with your ex.  He was too much like you, so there was nothing to discover between you. 

Hyunjin is so different but he fits with you like a puzzle piece, complimentary rather than contradictory.  You feel sweltering hot, thinking he must reciprocate those feelings.  Maybe he likes your hidden depths.  Maybe he likes knowing it is all for him.  He is romantic that way.  So maybe he likes to see your articulate and intelligent self let go of inhibitions.  Maybe you like it too, becoming a body and sharing it with him. 

Show me, he writes, echoing that very sentiment. 

Be polite, you reply, mostly to buy time while you temper your racing heart.  It melts at his next words. 

Please.   

Show me you want me.  want this.  want us.

Pretty girl.

My girl. 

Please.

Okay, you type.  You are quivering but the sensation is not unpleasant.  Last night was overwhelming, so much at once, but this you can do.  This you want to do.  There is a breath of distance, so it is a step rather than a leap.  You are no stranger to aiming a camera at yourself. 

Before you prepare, you take a breath and write, You show me too.

You get an idea.  While he formulates his reply, you jump out of bed and hurry to the front room.  He has an array of leather jackets hanging by the door, because of course he does.  You rifle through them, looking for the one he wears the most.  It smells like him, that rich cologne, a hint of his hair product.  If your knees were not already knocking, it would send you swooning.  You clutch it to your chest as you make your way back to your room. 

You close the door, as if it matters, but this is between you and Hyunjin, the rest of the world insignificant. 

You strip down to your underwear then don the jacket.  You keep your hair pinned so you do not look like a mess, then you arrange yourself on the bed as neatly as you can.  You try not to overthink, even though overthinking is your speciality.  You pretend this is a video like any other. 

Except the scent of his masculine cologne surrounds you.  He is inside your mind, completely and irrevocably. 

You open your phone to a new message, a video from him.  The lighting is dark in the small studio bathroom, backlit in red.  It makes it all the more erotic. 

You have never unwittingly clenched.  You did not even know you could be so aroused that your body would form a mind of its own.  But you are, and it does, pussy very literally throbbing as you watch the video.  His artist hand, long fingers curling around the hard curve of his fly.  He lowers the zipper and you clench again, making that meek little whimper. 

Apparently you like watching videos just as much as making them.  You are a mess by the time he gets his dick out. 

You turn up the volume to hear his breathing.  You know he has to keep his voice down, but it makes his breathy little fuck all the hotter. 

Oh Hyunjin, you write.  Your vocabulary otherwise fails.  There is no other word. 

Yes please, he writes.

My pretty girl.   

Say my name. 

Your next sound is embarrassing and guttural.  You are a little glad you were not filming yet. 

You clear your throat and position yourself, holding the camera above you.   You start recording.  With your free hand, you touch the collar of the jacket.  You rake your teeth over your bottom lip then lower the camera.  The jacket falls open just enough to hint at every curve in contains.  You skim down your body.  You touch yourself and you are so wet and so ready that you cannot help but make another noise.  Unlike him, you are free to be noisy, so you do not restrain yourself. 

It feels so different, knowing someone will watch this.  You have never been so wet in your life.  You cannot even tease yourself, so desperate that you quickly push two fingers inside you.  Oh, dear, god, you really sound filthy, ridiculously wet as you fuck yourself with jerky little thrusts.

“Hyunjin,” you murmur, the name that has often perched on your tongue while you do this.  It feels so good to say it out loud.

You send him that much, continuing to stroke and fuck yourself while the video sends.  You close your eyes and stimulate your clit, rubbing and circling, finding a rhythm.  You need it.  You need him. 

Your phone buzzes and you turn your head.  You open the message.  You clamp your thighs around your hand, your pussy clenching around your fingers as you read his words. 

God I wanted to film it but I just came all over myself

baby you are everything

I wish I was beside you I need to say so many things

god..

pretty girl if I ask so politely will you come for me?  will you let me see your pretty face when you come? Please.

You do not type a reply because it is too difficult with one hand, and you will not stop touching yourself, not when you are so close. 

It is just a few flicks of your thumb to open the camera again.  You frame your face and hit record.  You come only seconds later, releasing such a desperate cry as you unravel.  It is so much yet not enough.  You thoughtlessly shove your own fingers in your mouth, closing your eyes, imaging it is his hand, his wet fingers dragging over your tongue.  You want to taste him.  You want to choke on him.  You just want to feel him so much that the rest of the whole world will fall away.  You don’t need to be anyone else.  You don’t want anyone else. 

You say his name again.  Your pussy clenches as if already trained to react to it.  You stop filming and send it, breathing hard in the aftermath. 

As your adrenaline dwindles, you feel a modicum of embarrassment, but no regrets.  Your logical brain does make a grudging return, however.  As much as you want him, you know if you rush into things that you will end up balking again.  You need a proper conversation.  You need spreadsheets.  You need to do it his way and your way too. 

But for now, you smile, giggling to yourself as you read his replies.  Half of his texts are unintelligible gibberish, the other half completely and utterly worshipful. 

Nonsense, you finally write. 

I’ll come home right now and prove it to you, he says without hesitation. 

Except by right now I mean in two hours, because I caught the train out here and it doesn’t leave until then.

Then you’re all mine. 

You laugh in spite of yourself, curling up in his jacket.  You take in a breath, the scent of him.  You type. 

I’ve been yours for a long time.  I can wait two more hours. 

Then… can we talk?

Yes, he answers quickly.  Absolutely.  I have so much I want to say to you.

Me too, Hyunjin.  

He caught the bus to the train station but you offer to pick him up.  He enthusiastically agrees, evidently eager to see you again.  You find yourself laughing, such a light in your chest that it cannot help but spill out.  You are somehow both anxious and excited, but so happy that you do not mind. 

When the details are settled, you lower your phone and look at your binder. 

You have two hours.  That is enough time to laminate a few more spreadsheets.

-

You tell yourself you will be resilient.  You are notoriously stringent and a self-identified no-nonsense curmudgeon at the best of times.  Given you have expelled the brunt of your sexual frustration, you figure there will be no problem.  You will meet Hyunjin at the train station, you will come home, you will share a meal and have a conversation, and everything will go smoothly from there. 

Except Hyunjin changed clothes.  It is not anything extravagant by any means.  He is in black jeans and a red shirt, his black dress shirt shrugged overtop. The wind tousles his hair just so, and his make-up has been redone, a little less severe but still so sharp.  It is more casual than you expected, and somehow that undoes your perseverance.

You are gawking at him, staring through the car window as he strides over.  He gets into the passenger seat like nothing is remiss, tossing his bag into the back.  He is wearing heavy boots that thunk when he sits.  He closes the door and looks over at you with a smile.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says. 

He is so atrocious at keeping to your script.  Imaginary Hyunjin is much more accommodating. 

“Hello, Hyunjin,” you say. 

You sit there for a long time.  It is getting dark outside, which makes it easy to forget you are in a parking lot outside a train station. 

Then he has the audacity to be sweet, at such odds to his daring appearance.  He looks so rebellious and you look so meek.  He is all vibrant colours and dark slashes, while you are in a blazer and a long brown skirt.  Your shirt is buttoned all the way up to your chin and, despite your best efforts, your hair has come unpinned.  The wind has never been your friend. 

You are certain you make a funny sight, but he is not laughing at all.  His gaze is so affectionate but so warm, burning you up.  You gaze back at him, your heart already skipping beats.  Then he reaches out and tucks a loose curl behind your ear.  You remember him doing that at the art gallery.  He was looking at you then like he is looking at you now.  You realize you have been such a fool. 

You lean in at the same time.  This kiss does not even pretend at patience.  It is a hungry collision, his hand in your hair and yours on his chest.  You make a wanting noise when his fingers hook through the curls at your nape and he tugs just a little, just enough to move your head where he wants it so he can deepen the kiss.  He makes a noise too, something low and needy.  He licks into your mouth, far too hot and far too dirty for a parking lot kiss. 

You remember yourself, vaguely.  You break the kiss with a gasp.  Your fingers curl on his chest and his grip tightens in your hair.  Your foreheads touch.  The only sound in the car is your mutual rough breathing. 

“Right,” you say, your voice raspier than you expected.  “Um.  We should.  Go.” 

He nods.  But then he proves he is as evil as he looks, because he tilts your head and exposes your throat.  He leans in, presses his full lips on that soft vulnerable skin and kisses it so delicately that your whole body is wracked with a shiver.  He exhales, warm breath fluttering over your pulse.  Then he finally lets go and leans back. 

“Okay,” he says.  “Let’s go home.”

Home.  You have a discussion on that very subject upon arrival. 

Prior to departure, you arranged your papers on the kitchen table.  You deposit your take-out boxes alongside it, then sit down to eat and discuss. 

He furrows his brow as he holds up a spreadsheet. 

“Is this laminated?” he asks.  “You brought a laminator with you?”

“Of course I brought a laminator with me,” you say unflinchingly.  “What kind of question is that?”

He cracks a smile and nods, then waves you on.  He listens diligently to your proposed contingency.  You prepared index cards so you would not be distracted and led astray.  You are glad you did, because when he finishes eating he just stares at you, and he still looks hungry, but not for sustenance. 

You clear your throat and try to disregard this, but it is difficult.  You unbutton the top button of your shirt to breathe a little easier and he looks at you with more voracious intensity than a single button warrants.  You might as well have stripped down naked. 

You suppose you already have, halfway.  You swallow hard. 

“Look,” you say, lowering your index cards to speak frankly.  “The bottom line is this.  I desire you greatly.  I believe there is some reciprocation in this regard.  But we are living under a shared roof temporarily and I fear this may cause us to progress faster than I am ultimately comfortable.  I would like some longevity in our blossoming dynamic.  You are very important to me, Hyunjin.  I want us to succeed.  I would feel more comfortable if we waited to sleep together, at least until I am back in my townhouse.  That means no sharing a bed too.  When I am back home, we can properly date, and see how this grows between us.  What are your thoughts?” 

“When will your place be ready again?” he asks.  He is sitting back in his seat, arms crossed, looking thoughtful.  You appreciate he is not grabbing at you or immediately trying to convince you otherwise. 

You knew he would not pressure you. Regardless, you cannot help the skip in your bloodstream, the natural nerves that surface when he looks at you.  You have known him for years.  You wonder if these sensations will ever diminish.  Present research dictates no. 

“The last estimation was six more weeks,” you say.   

He smiles.  It soothes your heart.  You stare at his hand as it crosses the table, as he gently laces your fingers together and squeezes.   You blink up at him. 

“If you asked me to wait a year, I would,” he says.  “If you told me there were things you never wanted, we would make it work.  I’ve waited years for you, baby.  Six weeks is nothing.”

Goodness gracious. Exactly how is a person meant to be strict and curmudgeonly with this man?  He really is the universal exception to every rule.  You have just outlined your rubric and you are already considering breaking it. 

“Kisses are okay,” you say, hot under your skin.  Writing your flirtations was easier than speaking them.  Your tone is brusque because you are bad at this, but it just makes him smile.  “Maybe other things when the circumstances arise.  But we will wait for the rest.”

He lifts your hand to his mouth and places a soft kiss on your palm, holding your gaze all the while.  You are quite certain your insides turn to complete mush. 

-

It occurs to you in bed. 

You have long since said good night and retired for the evening.  You pick up your phone and sigh.  You are already skirting the edge of your rules, fully aware you are about to poke a sleeping beast but unable to resist.  The realization plagues you, the subsequent questions burning in your chest. 

And you are wet.  So, so wet, and so, so needy.  Because Hyunjin walked you to your bedroom door like a gentleman.  Then he kissed you like a scoundrel.  He leaned you against the door, his hand planted beside your head and the other holding your face.  He kissed you long and slow, like he wanted to draw it out, like he did not want to say good night.  Your hands were clasped together because you did not trust yourself to touch him.  If you did, you would have dragged him into the bedroom and regretted it later. 

But in the moment, it felt so right.  You are certain that no kiss, ever, since the dawn of time, had ever felt as good as that one.  He took his time with each gentle press, each touch of his tongue, each shared breath.  Your chests rose and fell in tandem, your legs turning to jelly where you stood.  He fiddled with that one undone top button.  You would not have resisted him tearing them all open. 

He did not.  He kissed you slowly.  He kissed you sweetly.  With one last peck, he whispered, “Good night, pretty girl.  Sleep well.” 

You could not find your voice.  You made a weak gurgling noise and nodded frantically.  He smiled.  You rather suspect he knew his effect on you, the rapscallion. 

Now you are in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about something he said at dinner.  You debate texting him.  It will open a floodgate.  You lower your phone a few times, but ultimately determine you will not sleep until you have settled your mind.

Hyunjin, you write, if you liked me for years, that means you were already inclined towards affection when I accidentally sent that video. Correct?

Correct, he answers with a little emoji face, one with a quirked eyebrow.  Why do you ask…?

I was just wondering…

If when I saw you was your first time watching it. 

The ellipses is there for a while.  Your heart is pounding in your chest.  You are certain this man is going to send you into cardiac arrest one of these days.  Then you will finally explode at the most inopportune moment.

You sink into the bedsheets, pressing your legs together when his reply comes through. 

Honestly… I watched it more than once.  I did stop when you first sent it. even though it got me hard in seconds.  then you said i could watch it.. and i honestly thought i was still dreaming.

You cannot help but laugh a little.  You turn on your side, smiling as he types some more.  Then his message comes through and you swallow, flush with heat. 

I tried to answer.  I tried to flirt with you.  I tried to be funny.  It all sounded stupid.  Then I got back in bed and tried to think of something to say… but god. 

god..

Baby what was I supposed to do?  if I resisted that they would have made me a saint. 

You laugh again.  You marvel at his ability to make you smile and get you hot at the same time. 

Did you masturbate to it?  you ask.  It sounds too frank to be seductive but you are not sure how else to pose the query. 

You really don’t pull your punches, he says.  You think you can somehow hear a smile in his words.

yeah baby, he writes. I did.  More than once. 

I see, you reply.  Okay, thank you, I was just wondering.  Good night.

The ellipses flickers again.  You release a torrent of giggles into the blankets when he sends you a very tortured looking emoji.

This is going to be a long six weeks. 

-

He is not wrong.  It is simultaneously the longest, most arduous six weeks of your life, but also the fastest, the most lively, and the most fulfilling. 

You spend the first week stealing kisses.  He is good to you, respecting your boundaries.  He never asks to share a bed and he does not initiate anything beyond your established desires.  He leaves space for you, his arms always open, but he does not force you. 

This is sufficiently more seductive than if he started yanking on your clothes in the corridor. 

You are watching a movie one night.  He puts an arm across the back of the couch but makes no further demand.  You settle under that arm, nestling closer at your own pace.  You are not watching the film, all your focus on him.  He has a foot propped on the coffee table, his arms spread across the couch, and he bops his head along to the music.  Of course, he does that even when the music stops, so you think he not paying attention either. 

Eventually, you succumb to the butterflies in your belly.  They flutter free with an exhale.  You touch his cheek and turn his face.  He requires little convincing, kissing you without a word. 

His foot thumps onto the ground.  You find yourself in his lap.  You do not know how you lose your head around him.  One second, you swear you are on solid ground, the next you are floating.  Someone should study this phenomenon.  You, yourself, have no idea how to parse its logic. 

You straddle his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck.  He is dressed in all black again, black jeans and a black t-shirt, his eyes still smudged with black eyeshadow.  It makes him look so utterly devastating, his eyes so dark and searching. 

It makes you bold, coming to life under the intensity of that gaze.  It is like some subliminal message passes to something rooted deep inside you, something primal and animal that he plucks with ease. 

You dive in for another kiss, burning too hotly under his gaze.  He cups your head with both hands.  He tosses little hairpins everywhere, grunting with displeasure when he finds them.  When you are completely free, he groans, a deep and ravaging moan as he buries his fingers in your hair and pulls you close. 

“Hyunjin,” you say, once more at a loss for any other word. 

He cannot even manage that much, nothing but a guttural sound leaving his throat.  It makes you melt against him.  Your body really has a mind of its own these days.  You find yourself rocking against him, making his breath catch. 

He tugs your hair a little more viciously, thoughtlessly, so entangled that it cannot be helped.  You make another ridiculous mewling sound that will embarrass you later, but in the moment it slips free. 

He holds you in place, palm cupping your head, keeping you steady while he rolls his hips under you. 

It makes you dizzy.  Your mouth opens and your eyes close.  You slowly rock back.  You dig your nails into his shoulders and you are amazed it does not hurt him.  But, then again, he is tugging your hair inadvertently and if that hurts you do not notice.  The seam of your own pants presses deliciously against you, the hard line in his jeans grinding against the softest part of you, again and again and again. 

“Oh,” you say, or rather sigh.  Your shoulders shake and surprise thunders into your racing heart.  You realize are going to come like this.  “Oh.  Ohh.”

“Yes,” he says, and holds you steady, and keeps rolling his hips until you come apart in his arms. 

You slump against his chest after, resting your head on his shoulder.  You can feel him flicking your hair out of his mouth, but he doesn’t complain.  You are breathing hard, clinging to him, still surprised you did what you did. 

Eventually you find a modicum of strength in your arms.  You somehow push yourself upright.  You deposit a single apologetic kiss to his shoulder, which is doubtlessly riddled with crescents from nail bites. 

He looks at you with a smile, a little breathless himself but evidently pleased.  

“You’re beautiful,” he says, so reverently you actually believe it.  Instinct still compels you to argue, but you cannot find your voice to do so.  You just make a little noise and look down at your hand on his chest. 

His heart races under your palm. 

You think you need to see him come too. 

You were previously too nervous to strike the endeavour.  You sexted again in bed the night before, but leaving him to his devices is different than taking matters into your own hands.  Literally.  You are not inexperienced, but he is certainly more experienced.  It is another reason you cannot rush into things. 

He does not rush you.  You arrive at the moment in your own time.  And in this moment, it stops mattering.  His heart beats under your palm and he looks at you with such an outpouring of affection, it makes your own heart stutter.  You are tingling with aftershocks, feeling so alive and vibrant with his eyes on you. 

You trail your hand down his chest to his belt.  His eyelashes flutter, surprise crossing his own face.  His hand covers yours and he lifts a questioning brow.  You nod and he lets you go. 

You get his belt open with a little struggle.  You are a prestigious academic decorated with multiple literary awards, but a belt stupefies you.   

He lets you work, twisting a curl around his finger, smiling a lazy smile.  You pry the belt open and get his fly down, satisfied when some of his cockiness dissipates as your touch overwhelms him.  It is a good overwhelming, given the noise he makes as he rests his face on yours.  He murmurs your name and presses kisses all over your face as you work him in your hand. 

The jeans are thrown into the laundry hamper immediately after. 

-

The second week is mostly comprised of your usual routines.  You have both shirked some responsibilities, too busy flirting like horny prepubescents to get any work done.  You eventually return to your books and make remarkable progress on your research project.  Hyunjin edits the photos from his latest shoot, uploading them to his profiles and collecting his sponsorships. 

You go to your favourite café.  You accompany him to his favourite bar because it’s a trivia night and you enjoy it more than you anticipated. You return to the art exhibition then rehash your previous opinions over dinner. 

Some moments feel like dates, like when he holds you hand or gets the door or you dare to kiss his cheek in public.  Some moments feel like the comfortable friendship you have long enjoyed, and for that you are glad.  Gaining Hyunjin as a boyfriend would mean little if you lost him as a friend. 

But he is still your Hyunjin. 

He just puts his tongue in your mouth now. 

The couch becomes a site of utter debauchery.  It is the apartment’s no man’s land, given the beds have been relegated to solitary confinement.  It really is for the best.  For now.  You will enjoy yourself more when you are truly ready. 

Until then, the couch is subject to repeated episodes of defiling. 

You and Hyunjin sit down with the intention of reading your own books, but they are both on the floor and you are on your back and Hyunjin is on top of you.  It is not unlike a few weeks ago, when he stole your book and pinned you down.  It feels like a lifetime since then.  You never would have imagined yourself in this situation for real. 

But it is real.  You know that, because every nerve in your body is alive and shooting sparks.  You make little moans, weaving your fingers in his bright red hair as he kisses you deeply.  His jeans are blue today.  You are in a long skirt.  It makes it a little easier for the material to fall on its own, gathering around your thighs as he presses against you. 

You take his hand and guide it up your skirt, resting it on your inner thigh.  When he squeezes the soft flesh, you arch your back.  A shaky please leaves your lips, breathing the word against his own.

He nods quickly, thumb stroking a circle high on your inner thigh.  “What do you want, baby?” he asks. 

“Hand,” you say, thinking about that video of him unzipping his fly, how many times you have gotten yourself off to his perfect hand sliding into the frame.  His deft and nimble fingers, so precise for his artistic crafts.   You blink up at him, hoping you do not look so dishevelled that it is ridiculous.

He clearly likes what he sees.  He reaches under your skirt to slip your panties down and off, shoving them in his back pocket so they are not lost.  His jeans have a long chain on the hip that he pushes out of his way when he kneels upright on the couch.  He guides your thighs apart and angles your hips up, your thighs resting on his. 

“Sorry,” you say when he touches you, because you are already so wet from just kissing. 

“Sorry?” he asks in a rough voice, very lightly touching you, gathering all that desire on his fingertips and making you shudder.  “For what?” 

“Just… so… ready…” 

It sounds ridiculous to say out loud.  He must agree because he laughs incredulously.  But you do not have time to feel ashamed because he slides two fingers inside you, your body offering no resistance to him.  Then he starts curling up and putting pressure on your inner walls in a way that makes your head spin. 

“Poor baby,” he says, his other hand sliding up your waist, holding you steady.  “What should we do about that?” 

You are coming minutes later, your shirt half-off, your breasts mauled with hickeys and your pussy spasming around his fingers.  It feels so good, you do it again, and he ends up coming before you even touch him once. 

Next time, you are not on the couch, but standing by the front door, preparing to go out.  He is fully dressed with his leather jacket and boots, but you are missing a sweater and one shoe.  He is standing behind you, your cheek pressed to the door as he works his hand under your skirt.  You cant your hips up and back, grinding against him while he finger-fucks you. 

You come so hard your knees buckle.  Fortunately, he realizes what it is about to happen and catches you.  He does not slow down, though, the bastard, and you keep coming, balanced in his arms. 

You are halfway to the ground when you are satisfied.  He puts you down gently.  And maybe it is being half-dressed at his feet, maybe it his boots or his belt or that leather jacket, or maybe it is the way he looks down at you, but your mouth waters and you swallow hard. 

“We don’t need to—” he starts, but you interrupt by opening his belt.  You are much better at unbuckling it now, hardly wrestling with the leather at all. 

You are acutely aware that you are not very good at giving oral.  You are sensitive to sensation and it can be a bit much, but you like the noises he makes and the way he grabs your hair.  You are certain he has had better, but you would not know from his reactions.  He curses and sighs and groans, alternating between looking at you lovingly and ravenously. 

He gets down on one knee after and cups your face and kisses you. 

And that is just week two.

-

By week six, an amendment has been made to the bedroom rule.  You will not share a bed overnight, but the morning is a different matter entirely.  When the sun is up, the day is starting, so there is nothing wrong with climbing into bed together to talk about the day. 

To be fair, sometimes you do just talk. 

Other times, like now, your shirt is pushed up to your breasts and his face is buried in your pussy.  He is wearing boxers and nothing else, his face bare.  You like to look at it, his soft eyes glancing up at you as you push his hair back. 

Unlike you who still administers oral with something of a polite and fastidious air, he gets messy with it.  You are both drenched when you come, your pussy and thighs a mess while he wipes his face on a discarded shirt. 

“So,” he says.  “About the townhouse?” 

-

When you finally step foot in your townhouse again, it is an abominable mess.  You stand in the foyer with your luggage, slack-jawed and already so overstimulated that you nearly start vibrating. 

Hyunjin joins you a second later, carrying the rest of your bags.  He knows better than to yank you around when you get like this, but he does guide you to the couch to sit you on a clean cushion.   He gets you some water and makes you drink.   It helps, marginally. 

“Oh dear,” you finally say, an understatement. 

You made dinner plans, mostly to dissuade you from desecrating the foyer before you had an opportunity to unpack your bags, but those plans are cancelled in light of all the work that needs doing to make the place habitable again.  You are immensely glad there is no longer a river of water leaking out of your shower and into the living room, but the contractors were not overly kind regarding dust and debris, to say nothing of plain dust and dirt. 

Your poor bookshelves have been so neglected.  They are the first thing to get a good dusting. 

It is not an impossible task, when all is said and done, but pizza delivery replaces a dinner out.  Whatever plans for seduction you might or might not have had, all evaporate, because you are so exhausted from cleaning that you fall asleep on the couch before it even gets dark outside. 

You wake with a start in the middle of the night.  You dreamed about giant dust bunnies devouring your poor innocent bookshelves.   It takes a minute to ground yourself in reality, your surroundings unfamiliar.  You have grown so used to the spare bedroom at Hyunjin’s apartment that you forget your own bedroom for a sleepy moment.  When you fully come to consciousness, you remember where you are. 

Then you remember you fell asleep the couch, a half-finished plate of pizza in your lap.  Hyunjin must have gathered you in his arms and put you to bed.  The thought is a little touching but also embarrassing, because that was not the plan for tonight.  You suppose your provisos merely outlined not sleeping together until you were in your townhouse, not that it was a requisite for moving back in, but you still miss his company. 

You search around for your phone.  He left it on your bedside table for you.  It is not as late as you thought it was, probably because you fell asleep so early.  You text him an apology.  You assume he went back to his apartment but you are not sure if he is awake or asleep. 

You always liked living alone, but you suddenly lament the empty space.  You miss the comfort of another person just one room over.   No, not just another person, but Hyunjin. 

hey it’s okay, he texts back.  you were tired.  you should go back to sleep it’s late

I am unfortunately wide awake now.

Yeah me too. 

Why are you so awake?

Thinking about you. 

If you were not already wide awake, that would have done the job of waking you all the way.  You sit up in bed, all your attention on your phone now.  You type a reply. 

Oh?  What about me? 

You are not sure if his tone is flirtatious or not.  You are getting better at verbal cues but it is still impossible to read someone, even Hyunjin, over text.   You cannot even read your own tone, uncertain if it comes across as flirtatious or just curious. 

That I’m kinda glad you fell asleep. 

Don't laugh at me.. but I think I am nervous

About sleeping with you

You expect any number of answers, but not that one.  You struggle with a reply for a moment, not sure if he is seeking reassurance or he just wants to speak his mind.  When he starts typing again, you decide to wait. 

I know it sounds stupid. 

We spent all this time waiting

And god I want to.  my girl

I’m so scared of messing this up and letting you down. 

Hyunjin, you finally type, before he can descend in a spiral.  You told me you would wait a year, or that we would work something out for ourselves if it was necessary.  Do you not think I would do the same for you? 

The ellipses appears and disappears as he contemplates this.  His answer comes a moment later, You’re right.

Of course I am, you reply.  I always am. 

You hear a laugh.  It startles you so bad, you drop your phone on the floor.  You snatch it up quickly as possibly and frantically type, Please tell me that is you laughing in my living room. 

Oh yeah sorry I just slept on your couch.

This man will be the death of you one way or another, that much is for certain.

You frightened me half to death.  I thought you left. 

Ah sorry baby..

Do you… want me to come upstairs?

That restless heart of yours skips beats for another reason, a different type of fear, one not unlike his own.  You are not sure how the night will progress, but you know one thing for certain, one thing that is true and will always be true: you want Hyunjin.  You want him with you, and beside you, now and always. 

Yes please, you write, then wait. 

His footsteps creak on the stairs.  The human body really is a peculiar creation, because your fear seems to bleed right into newfound arousal. 

You look up as he opens the door, using his phone flashlight as a guiding light.  It is facing upward, illuminating him.  Your phone screen is on, offering some light over your own features. 

You are still wearing the sweater and sweatpants you cleaned in, absolutely not a sexy outfit for a first time sleeping together.  You considered ordering special lingerie for the occasion but you are still quite bad about feeling embarrassed about those things.  You made yourself nervous and balked every time you pictured walking in the room with them on.  You think you will do that one day.  You will probably have to make yourself comfortable with it first.  Maybe you will send him a video. 

You look up at him, your heart pounding just thinking about it.  He gazes back at you.  He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, also not an especially fancy outfit to celebrate any firsts. 

His face is bare.  Your hair is loose.  There is something about the shadows and a new room that makes you feel like strangers for a moment.   You tell him as much, mostly to fill the silence, because he is staring at you and his gaze is far too amorous to be directed at a silly woman who fell asleep in her cleaning clothes at suppertime. 

He tips his head as he looks you.  You shiver, as if it is the first time he has ever looked at you, as if he has not made you come a dozen times on his face and hands, as if he has not known you for most of your life. 

He turns off his light.  The room is plunged into darkness.  That ridiculous heart of yours starts leaping around like it has an electric current. 

“Hyunjin,” you say, reaching blindly.  You gasp when he captures your hand, leading it onto his shoulder.  Then you feel his whole body, his hair brushing your face, his hands on you.  Your eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and see you him a little better, the muscle definition in his arms, the necklace dangling when he leans down towards you. 

“I’d fall in love with you again,” he says.  “If we were.  Strangers.  If I was seeing you now for the first time.”  He touches your cheek, brushes his knuckles up your temple then slips his fingers into your unruly hair.   “I think I’ve fallen in love with you a hundred different ways.  I think I will again.” 

“You know I am not good at speaking with poetic embellishment,” you say, swallowing around the lump in your throat, one caused by both sentiment and nerves.  “So I will have to speak plainly with you.   I love you too, Hyunjin.  I always have.  If we were meeting for the first time right now, though, I would probably be screaming and throwing things at you.”

He laughs and the sound make you feel like you are glowing.  You need no other light.  You reach up and touch his face and you see him perfectly, can picture his smile even before you trace your thumb across his bottom lip.  You cannot draw like him, but if you could, you would scribble his likeness in the margin of your work as well.   

“Good thing we’re not strangers, then,” he says.  “Because I’d really rather make love to you.”  He swoops down and kisses your forehead.  “My friend.”  He kisses a sensitive spot below your ear, the place he teases when he wants to rile you up quickly.  “Baby.”  Then he is tipping your head at the perfect angle to lean down, his lips brushing yours when he says, “My pretty girl.” 

“Nonsense,” you say breathlessly, because of course you do. 

And of course he kisses you.

He kisses you deeply, holding the back of your head as he gently lays you down.  You push the covers away, opening yourself to him completely.  You wrap around each other, sinking into the sheets, arching your back to feel more of him. 

You gasp when he tugs your hair.  He has already found so many ways to make you plaint and needy, to forget your skills of articulation and lose every word but his name. 

“That’s it,” he says, hooking your legs around his waist.  “Show me what you want, baby.” 

You reach between your bodies, cupping where he is already hard in his jeans.  Everything about him is so hard against you, you in your soft sweats with your pool of curly hair, losing yourself as his strong hands work their way down your body.  He lifts your shirt off and tosses it to the side, then gathers your hands because you always have an instinctive moment of covering yourself.  You are modest by nature, but you trust him with everything.  It is exhilarating, when he takes your wrists and pins them by your head. 

For a moment, you do imagine every version of yourselves.  You and him, old friends turning into lovers.  You and him, established lovers, finally coming together.  Two strangers, finding each other for the first time. There is always something new to discover. You love him again and again. 

“Say my name,” he says, working his way down your body.  He is still fully clothed when he has you fully naked, writhing under him as he pushes his tongue in you.  It is a slow seduction with his mouth on your pussy as he kisses you there as thoroughly as he kissed your mouth.   “Say it.”

“Hyunjin,” you say, repeating it as you come, your legs wrapped around his head. 

He spares you only seconds before his fingers are inside you.  You cling to his arm, making noises that still surprise you, begging him with your eyes and hands and little cries.  When he cups your face after, you open your mouth wide, wanting.  He fucks your mouth like he fucked your pussy, two fingers gliding across your tongue until you are bucking and pleading, sucking on his fingers and staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Fuck,” he says, then whips off his shirt. 

He kneels and you help tug his jeans and boxers down to his knees.  You curl towards him, situated so he can finger you while you wrap your lips around his cock.  You are usually very neat about it, but you cannot think clearly with his fingers inside you.  You mostly wet him, barely blowing him, but he still kisses you when you pull back. 

When he gets the last of his clothes off, he surprises you by sitting back against the headboard and pulling you into his lap.  He surprises you even more by folding your arms behind your back and pinning your wrists at the base of your spine.  He holds them there in one hand, the other between you as he helps you settle on top of him. 

He does know you well.  The second his cock so much as brushes you, there is an instinct to cover up.  You hands twitch but he holds you, speaking to you gently, soothingly.  He eases you through it, breathing just as hard as you sink down until he is fully inside you.  Then you are clenching sporadically around him, almost a mini-orgasm just from the initial thrust.  He is still holding your arms behind you, guiding you through it with him completely in control.  It seems to be the way he likes it, but you don’t mind at all.  You can be a stern stickler everywhere else; here you can be his. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he says, free hand on your hip, holding you as he rolls his hips under you.  “That good, baby?”

You answer with a mewl, dropping your face to his shoulder and staying there.  He laughs, eventually lifting your head.  Then he puts you on your back and lifts your leg onto his shoulder, and he fucks you in a way you once could only imagine. 

He pushes your knees back, presses his body so close to yours.  A sheen of perspiration covers his skin and you are certain you are not faring better.  It feels good, it feels free.  You wrap your arms around him and hold tight. 

“My girl,” he says, with a strong thrust, then another.  Sounding as deliriously inarticulate as you when he says, “Mine.”  And thrusts again.  “Mine.”  And again.  “Always.”  Again. 

You seek his hand blindly.  He offers it, lacing your fingers like the romantic he instinctively is, but you lead it right to your throat where you want him to hold you.  When he does, your body goes completely soft for him, like every worry flees at once.  You are always so in your head, to be a body feels good, to share it with him even better.  You hum with pleasure, mouth open like a good girl for your dreamy bad boy as he leans down and kisses you, his tongue fucking into your mouth with the same vigour he takes your pussy. 

When he rubs his thumb over your clit, you last only seconds, your whole body shaking as you lose complete control.  He holds you through it, rocking into you, kissing your face and neck.  He pulls out and strokes himself to completion, coming on your thighs and pussy. 

You wrap around each other after, rolling into the middle of the bed.  You somehow migrated horizontally during your lovemaking.   You will need to move eventually, but sleep is finally hitting you.  You feel Hyunjin clean you up with his t-shirt, but you only stir when he kisses you.  You wrap around him and return a few sleepy kisses down his neck.  He slides a hand in your hair, cups the back of your neck, and stays like that. 

“What next,” you ask sleepily, not fully conscious of your words. 

“Mmm.” He sounds just as sleepy.  “Still need our dinner date,” he murmurs.  “Can decide in the morning.”

“Okay,” you say.  And even though you are half asleep and barely conscious, you add, “I can make a spreadsheet.”

He smiles.   You think maybe you should learn to draw just so you can draw that smile after all.  Maybe there is an artist and a romantic inside you, or maybe it is just the parts of him so entwined with you, forever embedded in your heart.  You are actually excited to learn. 

You give him one more sleepy kiss.  It is early morning now.

You fall asleep together at the start of a new day. 

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #hyunjin smut #skz smut

[slvttyplum]

๋࣭⭑ under the sheets | satoru gojo

“let me make you feel good," he whispers in between your legs, your eyes going wide from the site.

what was going on, and why was he in your room? his light eyes were shining from the moon, creeping through the blinds.

“sa… satoru, why are you in here?” your voice softer than a whisper, his arms wrapped around your thighs as he looks at you with puppy dog eyes.

“you said you wanted this," he whispers, kissing your inner thigh, his warm breath itching closer to your core.

your mind racing trying to track back to when you said that, you just laid head to pillow a few minutes ago.

“… i don’t remember.” you say, your thighs trying to close, but his head gets closer to you.

a sly smirk on his face as he kisses your soft thigh, his breath hitting you. your thigh is sensitive.

“your computer.” his mouth right at your core, only an inch away from you, anticipation filling your body, warm blood boiling through you.

what does he mean? confusion was all that you had within you; you were not sure why your roommate was in your room in between your thighs.

your cheeks are getting warm from embarrassment as you look down at your crouch, remembering you didn’t wear any shorts to bed.

“stop bullshitting; get out before you get sexual assault charges.” that came out harsh, but you didn’t feel like playing his weird games.

a laugh erupts from his mouth, his soft, warm breath hitting your core and sending tingles throughout your body.

lightly pushing his lips together to stop him from laughing, your cheeks warmer from his reaction.

“oh? you’ll be right there with me. i want to ride him; he’s so fine; i wish he’d fuck me.” those words hitting you like a truck.

thats what he was talking about.

you quickly sit up, trying to push his head and move your thighs, but he’s not budging; he looks at you, letting out a light laugh.

“why are you going through my things?" you yell, your fists balling in anger. not only were you mad about the invasion of privacy, but you were also embarrassed.

“just let me give you what you want," satoru says, quickly sliding his hands up and hooking his fingers on the hem of your panties pulling them down.

his words make you tingle even though they shouldn’t. those words typed in your notes app were just horny venting, nothing more.

your hands unballing but your body stiff and not pushing him, his eyes not leaving you.

his eyes were soft; he was always attractive, but he looked better at night, with a little bit of light hitting him just right.

your body relaxing over the pillows prompted up against you, your eyes looking out the window, trying to avoid his gaze.

“good girl. let me do this for you.” his hand finally dropped your panties and got closer, a tiny stripe to your slit.

a shiver running down your spine, the warm, wet feeling soothing you as he takes another swipe after another.

the more swipes he takes, the more sensitive you get. his tongue slowly slides into your folds, lightly poking your clit.

your eyes are taking peeks at him, but not entirely. this was your fantasy, but this isn’t how you wanted it to happen.

“look at me.” he says, kissing your thigh and laying his head on the same spot, his eyes never once leaving you.

you hesitate to look at him, and you don’t know why, but your eyes land on his, a smile on his lips as he leans back down, swiping your slit.

“you get wet easily. you know that.?” his hand coming up to run your clit as he licks your inner folds, the intense eye contact making your stomach curl.

his tongue seemed to get wetter when he pulsed his tongue deeper inside you, a little moan sliding out of your lips.

his thumb is rubbing your clit in circles.

feeling pressure—a drop in your stomach when you feel the pleasure go to your toes.

it felt like you were about to cum, and that would be embarrassing. you clenched up, trying to hold on to the pleasure for as long as possible.

his tongue sliding out, closing his mouth and swallowing your taste, kissing your thigh, and still rubbing your clit.

“you just clenched around me.” his head going back down and his tongue sliding into you again, a bigger moan sliding past your lips.

the pleasure rushing from your clit to your toes, making them curl, your eyes still looking at his, making you arch your back.

your hand sliding down to his hair, sliding your fingers in between his fine, soft strands, your fingertips curving as you ball your fist.

his rhythm on your clit getting faster, and his tongue is sliding across your folds and into your wet walls.

your hips are bucking up from the pleasure, and your toes are curling so much that you’re catching a cramp, but the pleasure is canceling it out.

his thumb rubbing faster, your back arching more, and your hips rolling in pleasure, a tiny gasp as you feel the pleasure spike.

your eye twitching and your hand balling in a fist as you release, his tongue still pushing in and out of you.

his tongue clenched around you, your chest going up and down trying to catch your breath, his tongue finally retrieving.

“you did good. let’s try the other naughty things in your journal.” he says, kissing your thigh; your words are not coming out, but your reaction is enough for him to smile.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu satoru #satoru smut #satorugojo

[poisonedprose]

₊˚✧ happy trail — in which leon's happy trail drives you wild

leon kennedy x afab!reader

warnings: 0.9k words, smut, inspired by @ouchvns !! (this post), established relationship, pet names (baby, princess), curse words, oral (m), unprotected sex, p in v, soft dom!leon, slight degrading, choking (f), slight biting kink, (m having, f recieving), i dont caare how innactuate this is idc idc idc its rael to me🤤

masterlists

You stir awake at the sound of your boyfriend getting ready for work. The sun was barely starting to rise and you had fallen asleep late last night. He was really gonna hear it this time. Well, that was until you rolled over and trailed your eyes over his shirtless body. 

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry." He sounds sincere as he struggles to put his belt through the loops of his pants. You watch as Leon fumbles with the belt but your eyes can't help but drift up ever so slightly. You roll your eyes and push your face into the pillow. Does he always have to be this hot? "What's got your panties in a twist this morning?" He chuckles lowly at your dramatic reaction. 

"Nothing." You mumble into the pillow. Leon laughs again and he's sure you're pouting into the pillow by now. "You can go back to sleep, you know." He's still oblivious to how much he’s turning you on. Moreover, how much his happy trail is turning you on. You roll onto your back again, deciding you needed air. He looks over at you, his belt finally around his hips, but still unbuckled.

His eyes roll over your body. Those shorts didn't look so short on you last night before bed. His eyes trail down to the comforter that was now half on the floor from your little temper tantrum. He walks over and picks it up, throwing it on the side that he should be sleeping in right now. You catch a glimpse of his unbuckled belt and it only makes your mind hazy with dirty thoughts. 

 "Do you have to be at work soon?" Your mouth says faster than your brain can think. "Not for another hour and a half. Why?" He responds calmly, totally unaware of what he was in for. "Do you have time for a quickie?" You bite your lip as you ask the question, and a smile appears on your face trying to sweeten the deal. His eyes go wide for a second as he processes what you're saying. "Right now?" He can't believe that you woke up this horny. (You didn't. It was his fault for being shirtless.)

You nod, hoping he'll say yes. As you wait for his answer your eyes can't help but drift from his face to his happy trail. "Come here." You smile happily and quickly crawl over to him. You waste no time unzipping his pants, pulling out his cock with record time. He lets out a laugh mixed with a moan when you eagerly take him in your mouth. He doesn't know what's gotten you so worked up but he doesn't complain. 

He places his hand on your head, pushing you just a little deeper on his cock. "Mmm, fuck baby." He moans as you run your tongue on the underside of his dick. Drool collects at the corner of your mouth as you suck him off like he's your favorite lollipop. Spoiler alert; he is. Your hands run over his happy trail, and suddenly it makes so much more sense to him. "God, you're such a slut for me. I love it."

You pull off his cock with a pop, a smile on your face as you look up at him. He had so many things he wanted to say to you. Many of them were teases for how happily you took his cock down your throat or how enticed you were by his happy trail. But he was so caught up in lust, he couldn't bring himself to say any of them. "All fours, please." He commands and you obey, your shorts riding up more than they should. 

He slides your shorts and underwear down in one fell swoop. "So pretty." He mumbles as he leaves soft kisses on your ass before lining himself up with your entrance. He slides his cock into your tight pussy, groaning lustfully and he wraps a hand loosely around your throat and pushes you against his chest as he pounds into your cunt.

Jumbled up words mixed with whimpers fall from your lips. His cock is fucking so deep inside of you, and his hand around your throat just fits like a necklace. "Mmm, so pretty, baby. Your pussy was made just f'r me." He moans into your ear, his voice deep, sexy, and full of need, just how you like it. "Takin' it s'good, yeah?" He chucked against your jaw, leaving rushes kisses.

Your jumbled words and whimpers soon turn to Leon's name. "Leon, Leon, oh fuck, Leon!" Your voice is so loud, he can't help but let your words ring through his ears. "Does it feel good, baby?" You can feel his cocky smirk on your jaw but you nod anyway. 

You can tell he's close as his moans turn into whines. "Gonna fill y'up. Gonna fill your pretty pussy with my cum." He whines into your ear. "Is that okay, baby?" He asks sweetly compared to what he said moments ago. "Please. Please cum in me!" His fingers meet your clit, rubbing pleasurable circles with ease.

"How could I say no to my beautiful princess?" He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as he cums. He continues to fuck into you and rub your clit until you cum. Practically screaming his name loud enough for his neighbors to hear as you do. He catches his breath before he pulls out, letting you fall back to your position on all fours. 

He watches as his cum drips out of you, pride swelling his chest. "Now, I don't want to go to work. Look what you did." He groans as he fingers his cum back into you. "Then stay." You wiggle your ass tauntingly and he can't see it but he just knows your smirking. "You're such a bad girl. I love it." He chuckles as he pulls his belt off. 

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#! 𖦹 ₊˚✧ re . #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil 4 smut #resident evil 4 x reader #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil smut

[kitashousewife]

sakusa yawns as he opens the front door to your shared home. he’s been gone for five days. five days of games, practices, clinics, trainings, and travel. he hasn’t had a second to himself and he hasn’t slept well at all.

“welcome home kiyoomi,” you smile with your arms out wide, and he comes crashing into you. he holds you close, ignoring the scattering of his belongings on the floor for now.

“did you have fun?” you mumble into his chest and he shakes his head.

“too long,” he yawns once more and you chuckle.

sakusa has decided he cannot live without you.

“is that so?” you pull away and ignore his rather emphasized pout, opting to grab his bags instead. “do you want something to eat?”

“m’good,” his words are mumbled as he slips off his jacket and shoes. “ate on the plane.”

you nod and shut the lights off in the kitchen while sakusa locks the door. he then begins to follow you as you walk through the house like a puppy. shuffling behind you while you set the thermostat, padding down the hallway while you separate his clothes into the laundry piles for the next day, and stopping once he finally enters the bedroom.

“do you want any tea?”

“not thirsty,” he grabs some pajamas from the closet gently as his limbs are feeling heavier by the minute.

to someone on the outside, sakusa would seem cold and distant in moments like these. but you know better than anyone that he’s exhausted. normally after short trips, sakusa can hardly get a breath in as he tells you everything he did while he was gone. this trip in particular was especially grueling though, and his body is feeling the effects.

you can tell in the look in his eyes, how he pulls you close and strokes your back, how he follows you around without a word just to be close to you that he loves you more than word could say right now.

“i’m sure you’re sore, i could run you a bath? i just got more of those bath salts at the store today that you like,” you grab a towel for him and hop up on the kitchen counter. he comes to stand in between your legs, resting his head on your shoulders.

“not tonight, too tired. a shower would be good,” his eyes are closed as he speaks, messy curls falling every which way over his forehead. you brush them back before planting a kiss to his lips and slip off the counter.

“you’re in luck, i picked up that body wash we liked from the store today. it was finally in stock,” the shower flicks on and you adjust the temperature for him, just how he likes.

“oh, thank you,” he throws his laundry into the hamper. and slips inside the shower just as steam fills the bathroom in warm embrace.

you leave him to it and fill your time with things to make his night a little easier. you plug in his charger for him, set his freshly cleaned and filled up water bottle on his nightstand, and put his bags away. by the time you slip into bed, sakusa walks out of the bathroom with pajamas on, hair dripping wet, and very tired eyes.

“god i missed our bed,” sakusa sighs as he nestles in behind you and pulls you close. “thanks for putting everything away,” he kisses your head. you turn around to face him and wrap yourself around his torso. he chuckles. “someone miss me?”

“a little,” your cheek is pressed up against his chest while your arms wrap around his torso, legs intertwined. “sounds like a rough trip.”

sakusa scoffs. “absolutely ridiculous. nothing professional about any aspect of it,” he huffs, and even though the room is pitch black you can sense his eyeroll. “i’ll tell you more about it in the morning though, i’m so tired i can’t think straight,”

“get some sleep omi,” your voice is a whisper as your body finds comfort in your lovers embrace at last. his eyes are heavy and his breathing becomes deeper in a matter of seconds.

typically, sakusa tells you multiple times how much he loves you before the two of you even shut your eyes, and once or twice more as he begins to fall asleep. but tonight there wasn’t a peep between either of you.

the two of you fall asleep, tangled together under the blankets and immersed in the safety of each other after five long days.

#sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #sakusa drabble #kiyoomi sakusa

[harrystylesfan2686]

Pieces

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader are falling apart and there is nothing reader can do about it.

A/N: angst because I'm sad🥲. Inspired by Sand by Dove Cameron.

Pieces Masterlist

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I feel Azriel drift away from me.

Day after day, I notice him distancing himself from me. He doesn't spend much time with me now. Doesn't talk to me. Doesn't hold me like he did before.

He is spending much of his time with Elain now.

I see them in the garden, walking beside each each, her hand held in his. They talk and laugh with each other, lost in their own world. He even makes time for her.

Just like him did for me before.

He only comes home to eat, sleep and make small talk to me and then goes back to her again. Every morning I watch him get up from bed and get ready for the day, silently. He pecks my lips, whispers a small 'I love you.' and leaves.

I feel like a stranger to him now.

Whenever I try to talk to him about his day or literally anything else, he turns me down immediately, only giving me short responses. He doesn't ask me of anything in return, never wanting to talk me for more than 5 minutes.

It makes me feel unwanted.

When we accepted our mating bond, I had issues with trusting our future together. Azriel assured me we would be alright. He told me over and over again, that he loved me.

"I love you so much. You are my everything. I promise you, I will spend the rest of my life making sure you know that."

I could hear his love in his words. It was almost a century ago. That promise is what I remind myself of when I start to question his loyalty for me.

I've lost count of how many nights I've spent crying in my pillow, everytime these little things cut deeper wounds in my heart. None of which Azriel heard in his slumber.

-☆-

The silence is uncomfortable.

The clicking of spoons against dishes help in filling it a little but the awkwardness still stays. I look at Azriel, eating without glancing up. I made his favorite tonight. He still hasn't commented on it, not that I expected him too. I did.

I clear my throat to catch his attention but he still doesn't look up, so I ask,"How was your day?".

"It was normal." He says without looking up, not say anything else after.

"I made your favorite today." I try again. That finally catches his attention. Hazel eyes look into mine containing what it seems to be realization. I tilt my head in confusion. "Did you not realize that? I hadn't cooked it in so long so i thought you'd be happy to eat this."

"Oh, um, no you're right, I didn't realise it. I actually was trying to hurry up." He gave a apologetic smile.

"Hurry up?" I ask. "Yes, I have business with Rhys today. And I actually ate this a week ago." He looks at the plate.

"Oh?" I frown. "Yes. I mentioned to Elain once that I like this and she surprised me by cooking it and forcing me to eat and review it." He chuckles. "It was quite good." He continues eating as if he didn't just broke my heart to complete pieces.

My shoulders drop and eyes burn with tears threatening to fall. I look down to hide my crumbling face from him. I clench my figures around the spoon, trying to keep my emotions in control. I somehow manage to not cry until he is gone for the second time today.

But the second he leaves I drop on our bed and sob until my eyes are raw and sleep takes over me.

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#acotar fandom #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel x elain #angst #I'm sorry #crying my eyes out #pieces #azriel x femalereader