Just a perfectly normal life hack video, no need to specifically tag @were--ralph for any particular reason

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@hyyhyuka
Just a perfectly normal life hack video, no need to specifically tag @were--ralph for any particular reason

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I was unaware of Markiplier telling his fans that they better behave in the theaters which is hilarious to me because I've been joking with my staff that if the people for Iron Lung acted up in our theater I was going to email Markiplier like a disappointed teacher
I work at a theater and despite full showings we have barely had to clean them because people don't leave trash. no complaints from anyone about other customers being loud/obnoxious. every customer who has bought a ticket for iron lung has been polite. i'm so incredibly proud not only of Markiplier but also the fanbase. thanks guys, as both a Mark fan and movie employee
Ilia fucking Malininâs world record breaking free skate
Oh my God every bit of this is wild
-when he does the first big jump the announcers start screaming. I don't understand enough of what I'm looking at to get what about this is breaking records but the announcers screaming was a pretty big clue
-He's dancing to music from Succession????? I don't recognize all of it but some of it is definitely the theme from Succession. At one point the audience claps along to the music. And I'm not sure if it's out of support for the skater or because they like the song đ¤Ł
-when he finishes he just lays down on the ice incredible
THAT'S MY BOY!!! I SKATE AT HIS RINK!!!
That first big jump is a Quadruple Axel. It's 4.5 rotations in the air (you take off forwards rather than backwards, which is the extra half rotation). Nobody else in the world can do this jump it's so hard. He is the first and only person to ever land it cleanly, much less consistently. He had to land it cleanly here to have any hope of winning the World Champion title.
Yes, he's skating to music from Succession! The audience is clapping in support because he was doing so well (also because it was hosted in Montreal and the audience was very supportive of all the skaters that evening).
He lays down on the ice because he just broke multiple world records. He landed all 6 types of quadruple jumps cleanly, which no one has ever done at all (again, because he's the only one that can do the quad Axel), much less in a single program like this. This was an insane feat of athletic ability! If you go watch the other guys who competed against him, Yuma Kagiyama was in second place by 20 fucking points, and Yuma skated with no falls. This is Micheal Phelps / Katie Ledecky levels of smashing the competition (sorry the only other sport I know is swimming).
Some other notes for everyone:
Ilia listed that first jump as a Triple Axel on the sheet you give to the judges, meaning that he wasn't committed to doing the Quad Axel. (Technically you're not committed to anything on the sheet but it's generally your "plan" for the program.) He also doesn't do a quad axel in the 6-minute warmup beforehand when he does go and do it in the program, so it was a complete toss-up as to whether he was going to go for it. It's incredible that he manages to land the jump so perfectly without warming it up first!
He was 3rd coming into this skate from the previous short program. (All skating competitions require you to skate 2 different programs, 1 short and 1 long.) In order to win the title, he was going to have to skate without any falls, especially because his one strong point is his jumps and other skaters are stronger in other areas. There are many, many skaters who fall on their quad jumps, even when they're just doing one. It is so fucking hard to do even one of the 6 types of quad jumps. And he just does all 6! In one program! Insanity!
He did a 4 Lutz - 3 Flip at the halfway point of his program. Almost no one puts a Flip on the end of their combos, it'll usually be a Salchow instead because it's much easier. The only other skater I can think of to put a Flip on the end of a combo is Shoma Uno (who was also at these championships but didn't have a good skate).
His last jumping pass was a combo that was supposed to be a 3 Lutz - 2 Axel. He decided, in the moment, to change the 2 Axel to a 3 Axel. Nobody else has ever attempted this, much less succeeded. It is orders of magnitude more difficult to do another rotation to the second jump in a combo, at the very end of a 4.5 minute sprint no less.
In short, this kid is wild, had the performance of a lifetime, and I had the blessed opportunity to witness it.
quick reminder that itâs ok to say that you love reading and that reading is your passion without reading 30+ books in a year. if you connect with books and love the power of the written word, youâre bookish. you donât need to justify your love of reading.
Yuna 251116 | KBS

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i have reread next exit mine three times already... I'm not even that into omegaverse but you've written all I had this very specific craving for and ur writing is SO GOOD....gods bless u đ also can i be added to the taglist? I'm hungry for the next one đ but also, write in ur own time! Labors of pleasure mustn't be rushed đââď¸
Omg the compliment? This is such high praise thank you! What's crazy is I never get that into omega!verse either unless it's for a very specific ship or dynamic. I guess Alpha!Kai really is that guy.
Also it doesn't help that MOAs have been calling him and Soobin wolves all tour. đł
And yes of course you can be added to the taglist babe! I honestly don't know why it's so hard for me to work on/finish the fic but it will get done I promise!
Also is your username a bts hyyh reference cuz đđ¤
not @ me answering this so late i'm sorryyyy
alpha kai is SO that guy. he's been haunting me for so long. the things he makes me want, you'd question if i'm a feminist or not-
AND YESSSS it's a reference to hyyh!!! it's such an old username of mine but it still slaps but softly, it slaps with nostalgia lmao
next exit: mine deux (m) â hn.k
pairing: alpha!huening kai x omega!fem reader word count: 29k genres/tropes: explicit smut, omega!verse, workplace au, road trip au, forced proximity, reverse age gap (two years), shared history, mild slow burn, mutual pining/unresolved tension finally getting addressed, unexpected heat, one bed trope, happily ever after summary: He dips his head, lips moving until theyâre flush against your ear as his warm breath cascades over you, 'You wanted me to help you? Then youâll take what I give you.' Youâve avoided Kai for years, but now youâre trapped in his car with nowhere to run. Every glance lingers, every word hangs between you two, until you both are helpless to the sudden shift. Things become more dangerous and unavoidable: slow, certain, and impossible to stop.
warnings/content tags: unedited, graphic depictions of sex, explicit verbal consent king!kai, birth control (reader), mutual desperation, bareback sex/no protection/barrier/condoms, penetrative heat sex, knotting/cock warming, scent kink/pheromone overload, slick play/squirting, messy filthy sex, spitting/licking, possessive sex/breeding kink, dacryphilia, nipple play/nipple sucking/biting, edging, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, biting/nibbling (no mate claims), marking/scenting (non-mating), semi-clothed sex (half-clothed male/unclothed female), hair pulling/hair fisting, manhandling/rough sex, spanking, restraining/holding down, dom!kai (light mean dom), brat!reader, brat taming, dirty talk, swearing author's note: so truly sorry for the delay. the combo of school+work+health problems have been kicking my butt!!! first off, i wrote part 1 in google docs but i heard that google is censoring/deleting smut saved on drive so i switched over to microsoft word for part 2! if thereâs any discrepancies in how certain things are formatted or what words are hyphenated/compound/split into two or other grammatical/syntax things, thatâs why. i usually just take the suggestions they offer and when i transferred part one to word, i noticed there was a lot of red and blue swiggles so thatâs how i know they adhere to different grammatical rules. moving on, in order to get this story out in time, i had to change my outline/story structure a little bit. technically if you want the story to end here for you, you can have it do that. but if you want to read even more scenes of graphic heat smut then thatâs what part three will cover! kinda like⌠a bonus? or an epilogue? but you will have to wait a bit for it because i have two fics i need to complete before then! OH! But if there's like certain kinks or things you want to see featured in the extra rounds of heat sex, please send in asks, I will most likely try to indulge you. We can treat it like a bonus/outtakes type thing! (will add links later! & please let me know if any of the formatting is fucked up!)
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With your forehead pressed against the glass passenger side window, you donât notice it at first. Youâre breathing shallowly, trying to keep your mind off your discomfort. You havenât felt like this in years. You donât want to think about what that means, or rather, implies. When you chance a glance at the A/C dials in the center of the dashboard, you notice that the temperature has already been set to the lowest possible number and that the speed is at the maximum setting. The vents roar a cold that feels thin, recycled air with a plastic bite, and beads of condensation pebble along the fins without touching the heat under your skin. You donât want to complain, or seem ungrateful, but it isnât enough. Youâre sticky with sweat and⌠something else, making your loose white t-shirt cling to your skin and your heather gray leggings darken as they become superglued to your thighs. The seatbelt cuts a hot line across your collarbone; every inhale drags fabric a fraction over your tender breasts as your ribs flinch like theyâre being filed down with sandpaper.
And worse, your skin seems hypersensitive, you want to rip off your Lululemon jacket, wouldâve done it already if you werenât convinced it would distract Kai, who is steadfastly focused on driving. His right hand sits high on the wheel, tendons raised while the left drifts to the gearshift and back in that precise, unhurried rhythm youâve watched for years. He smells like cedarwood and bourbon with that ripe peach note ghosting the cabin; it wades its path into your panting mouth before settling in, heavy at the back of your throat, tickling your tonsils.Â
Youâre already deeply regretting your choices in underwear that you had picked that morning, the gusset of your panties seems to be digging into you, giving you the worst wedgie and your braâs underwire is rubbing the skin underneath your breasts raw. Every seam is a provocation; the underwire scrapes, the elastic bites, and your glands answer with a low, traitorous throb that has nothing to do with comfort.
As you sniffle, hating the pain and feeling mentally vulnerable, Kaiâs scent floods into your nostrils again. Except this time, instead of sending you into distress, the resinous cedarwood smells consoling. The bourbonâs booziness helps to dull your focus, so you are no longer distracted by pain. The sweet peach makes you want to climb into his lap and burrow into his chest, seeking comfort and respite.
It's okay, you urge yourself in your head. In a few minutes, youâll be at the rest stop. You can get out, stretch your legs, breathe in the much-needed clean air of the outdoors, and freshen up in the restroom. You desperately need to check your panties to see if they are stained with sweat or slick because if it is the latter you will need to come up with a contingency plan immediately. Youâll be in no state to go to a work retreat. Worse, needles the tiny annoying voice in your head. You need to get rid of Kai. You refuse to give that voice any attention, even though itâs right. You both know, you and Kai, not you and the voice, that heâs an alpha. Even someone like Kai, who is as close to a saint that any alpha can be, canât be with an omega going through the full throes of her heat without experiencing some sort of deterioration of his mental resolve.
The minutes blur as the highway lines melt into each other; fortunately, the traffic has finally picked up, allowing the hum of the tires and the low mechanical whir of the A/C fusing into one steady vibration under your skin. The air still feels syrupy. You donât want to risk rolling down the window, your scent would spill and catch in the slipstream, instead you sit and simmer, feeling like you are resigning yourself and Kai to getting slowly hotboxed in the Lexus. Your pulse has a weight now, a sharp pressure like an ice pick digging into your skull, and your glands throb in counterpoint at the base of your throat and wrists, a second heartbeat lower, heavier.
Your chest heaves as you try to desperately gulp in air, your breasts feel swollen and tender. Your primary throat glands throb beneath the jacket collar; the secondary ones at your wrists prickle where the seatbelt rubs. Your bones hurt and your muscles ache. Never have your ribs felt so fragile and prone to feeling pain, never have your hips felt so stiff like they arenât getting enough space to flex and move. Heat collects under your shirt as a trickle of sweat slides down your spine and you quickly chance your fingers underneath the fabric, hoping Kai doesnât notice as you rub it away, your fingers coming back damp. The cotton clings harder, static-charged, every thread alive against your skin. When you breathe, the air tastes faintly chemical, of alcohol, faintly syrupy sweet, of juicy summer fruit. Him. It coats the back of your throat like something you shouldnât swallow. Which turns your thoughts towards something you could swallow. Something you desperately want to swallow, to coat your mouth with thick creamy whiteness, to drip down your throat. You feel ravenous. Hungry. Desperate.
You turn toward the window, cheek to the glass, trying to bleed some of it off. Trying to distract yourself from the appealing nearly two meters of prime virile alpha-ness next to you. The chill lasts only a heartbeat before the vibration of the car travels through the frame and into your jaw, shuddering down your neck. You shift, cross your legs, uncross them, shift again. The pressure building between your hips doesnât ease; it just moves.
It takes ten whole minutes for the realization to click. For you to blink and gather your thoughts. You stare at the trees uncomprehendingly, not understanding why the world outside doesnât look like gray and lanes upon lanes of cars driving at breakneck speed endlessly. You feel slow, like you canât make sense of anything right now besides desire and seeking relief. But no, the landmarks outside are wrong; there are no diner signs, no countdown arrows. Kai had exited the highway and you two were now driving down the urban streets. The fuzz in your head clears just long enough for irritation to cut through. No. You canât deal with this right now. What is he doing? Why is he upending your plans?
ââŚKai?â It comes out scratchy; a scrape of sound thatâs more breath than voice. âWhere the hell are we?â
He doesnât answer you right away. In fact, with both hands on the wheel, steady, professional, and his chocolate brown eyes fixed forward, he seems resolved to ignore you. But you see his tells, how his knuckles blanch against the leather, how the mole on his neck moves when he swallows to clear his throat, how his jaw flexes just a tad.
âThis isnât the diner exit,â you push, the heat making your own voice wobble in a way that you hate. You sound emotional. Pitiful. âYou missed it.â
âI didnât miss it.â Thereâs no inflection. It sounds final. containedâtoo sharp for your frayed nerves. Harsh. Mean. The tiny voice in your head whispers again, but you know that it is judging him too unfairly.
Your stomach drops. Why wouldnât he tell you about a change in plans? âThen whatââ
âItâs safer this way.â His tone is low, clipped, inflexibly striving for calm but missing it by a mile as he drums his fingertips on the steering wheel, his nails digging into the leather. âYou canât be out in public like this.â
The words hit like a slap of cold water, shocking you upright, your spine straightening as you flinch. Public. He means your scent. The glands behind your ears spark; your wrists prickle; your throat pulses.Â
Fuck. No. No. He couldnât have noticed. Why?
âIâm fine.â The lie splinters as soon as it leaves your mouth. It goes out shakily. Sounding unconvincing to even your own ears.
He doesnât glance over. âYeah, right. Youâre not.â He kindly doesnât scoff at your words but youâre still in a state of agitation. Where the hell is he taking you two if you canât be at a diner right now?
The silence that follows grinds at your nerves. Kaiâs strangeâor perhaps not so strangeâbehavior and your own symptoms are making it feel like someone is going at your body with a meat tenderizer. The A/C hums, a poor melody for its attempt at comfort, but the air is still viscously thick, tasting faintly of gross recycled air through the vents and the more pleasant taste of him. You certainly prefer it to the floral vanilla citrus triple combo that is leaking out of you. You try to breathe shallowly, as if you can hide it, but each exhale drags more of that sweetness into the cabin.
You pull at the neckline of your T-shirtâa poor miscalculationâas the movement makes the scent rise off your skin in a warm wave. Your throat glands flare; the ones behind your ears spark. His fingers twitch on the wheel, just a flicker, then go still again. Heâs trying not to react. The disciplined rigidity of it makes something inside you twist as you find yourself both wanting and angry at once. You shouldnât feel thrilled at how hard he is trying to resist and to stay principled.
A green sign flashes past the windshield: not a diner, not a rest stop. A flickering neon vacancy sign. Motel. Instantly your mood shifts to panic. Anxiety immediately strums through your entire body.
Your heart jumps as you cry out, âKai.â Sharper now, though your voice cracks halfway through. âThatâs a motel.â You shouldnât feel suspicious of his intentions, but you canât help but rake your eyes over him, noticing the differences in your forms and the amount of strength that seems to be thrumming through his entire body; the breadth of his shoulders, the easy strength coiled in his forearms, and the way the veins bulge when he tightens his grip.
 He exhales through his nose, and somehow that sound comforts you momentarily. âYeah, right. I know.â The indicator clicks once, twice. âItâs safer than a diner with 50 patrons. Much safer than you walking across a parking lot to the unisex public restroom, sharing a line with alphas as you wait. You need to be somewhere private to ride this out.â
The image knocks the breath out of you. Your head bows as you stare into your lap, the fucking telltale darkness where your thighs and the seam of your gray leggings meet, your pale blue nails biting into the leather grain of the seat underneath you. The car slows under the buzzing light. He shifts into park and finally looks at you.
You hate it. You hate how it makes you feel.
Kai unbuckles his seatbelt and shrugs off his black leather jacket. He gently places it on top of your lap, the oversized material nearly swallowing your frame, covering most of your legs.
âPut it on,â he murmurs, clear-eyed, calm but focused. Itâs obvious that Kai has come up with some kind of a game plan and heâs taking the lead, already has set it in motion. But youâre unnerved. You still donât understand whatâs happening. A part of you wants to push back, to ask what heâs thinking, what exactly he's preparing for, but your own thoughts feel like theyâre wading through mud. Your own mind feels foggy and it hurts your head to think too hard.
You blink, slow to process. âWhat?â
âPut on my jacket. It should be big enough to cover you, to go down low enough so that no one can see the thick slick dripping down your thighs.â His voice is still low, still calm, but thereâs authority under it now, the undertone firm in a way that makes your body curve towards his even as you flinch at the vulgarity of his words that donât seem to match, âItâll help mask you until we can get you in the room. No one will bother you if you smell like me.â
The words crawl under your skin. You want to argue, to insist that you can hold it together, that it isnât what he thinks. But your mouth wonât form the sentence. You canât lie to him. Not when you can feel what he means. Heat radiates from your throat and wrist glands, that second pulse under your skin that isnât just heartbeat. To hold on to your pride and pretend you werenât being affected by the onslaught of a surprise heat would be foolish at this point. But stillâŚ
âI can handleââ
âNo.â His word cuts, quick and sharp. Gratingly alpha, making you almost buckle under his rebuttal. Then he curbs his tone, moderating it to be softer, steadier when he notices the impact heâs having on you: âPlease. Just do it. Weâll deal with things after. But for now, we need to get you inside quickly.â
You shove your arms through the sleeves, throwing it on over your own jacket. The leather is cool at first, but then it traps the warmth, locking his cedar-bourbon-peach scent against your body until itâs all you can taste. You pull the lapels tight, seeking comfort but your pulse wonât settle. How can it, when you are buried under all these layers in the late August heat?
He watches you with sharp focused eyes until youâre covered, nods once. âGood.â A pause. Then, more quietly: âGood girl,â like he just couldnât help himself from saying it.
The words hit something low and soft in your gut. You hate how much you love hearing those words coming out from the curve of his amaranth-pink colored lips which have never looked more kissable.
Thereâs a faint pause, as Kai appears to wrestle with what to say. âIâm going to go out to get you a room. I think itâs best if you stay in the car. Iâm leaving the keys with you so that the A/C stays on. Keep the doors locked. You donât open for anyone but me. If anyone comes up to the car and starts bothering you, ignore them and call me immediately. Iâll be there in a flash. I promise.â
He presses the keys into your palm. His large hand lingers, warm, solid, reassuring, before he reluctantly pulls away. âIâll go get the room.â
And then the door opens, closes, leaving you alone with the jacket, the cold air, and the echo of his scent circling the cabin, a poor substitute for the man who just left. Even without trying you can easily recall the cadence of his voice, the timbre that echoed assurance as he stepped out of the vehicle, saying he would be back soon. The warm heat of his espresso brown eyes branding you as he looked you over before he left.
Now alone, you try to close your eyes. Meditate and focus on regulating your breathing, stave off the panic attack that feels like itâs forthcoming. You can feel everything. Every whisper of air from the vents feels like nails raking over your figure, making your hairs stand. The unyielding silence crawls over your skin like ants, sharp and weightless, the static-y sensation of a limb regaining feeling after having fallen asleep. Your primary throat glands throb under the jacket collar; the ones at your wrists prickle against the seatbelt; behind your ears heat flares and recedes. You swear you can still feel the warmth that had radiated from his form when he was sitting beside you in the driverâs seat, the imprint of his nearness like a bruise on your nervous system.
Worse, even though youâre all wrapped in Kaiâs jacket breathing in his woody boozy scent, even though the windows are blacked out with privacy tint, and the doors are securely locked, you donât feel safe.
Your scent is leaking into the air, the citrus note sour from stress, the rose notes smelling heavily of wilting flowers, the vanilla is no longer sweet and decadent, it is thick and bitter; the scent of distress is cloying and impossible to ignore. Itâs stress mixed with arousal. Shame and instinct tangled together in a humid, nauseating loop. You can feel your slick sliding down your thighs, soaking into Kaiâs car seat, drenching your leggings, pooling onto the part of his jacket that was so long that you ended up sitting on it. You worry your lips as you wonder how Kai will ever be able to remove the slick from his brand-new car. The detailing would cost a fortune. But you know you should ask him to send you the bill. As it is, you should probably get his leather jacket dry cleaned as well.
Your thighs are soaked and too warm, and no matter how tight you squeeze them, itâs not enough. Thereâs no pressure. No friction. Nothing but empty space and the slow, drowning ache that just keeps spreading. You want to unzip the jacket. You want to rip your clothes off and crawl over to the driverâs side, writhe your hips over where he had just been sitting, press your face into the headrest where his scent still lingers the strongest, wanting to part your lips and mouth at the leather, but the thought of someoneâanyoneâcatching even a glimpse of you, so obscenely wanton and desperate like this makes your stomach twist into tight unyielding knots.
You curl in tighter instead, fold your arms against your chest and press your face into the collar where Kaiâs scent is strongest. You wish he had scented the penguin. That would have been handy right now. As it is, his scent from where his collar had kept brushing against his scent glands makes your throat tighten until you feel like you can breathe, like you canât get in enough deep lungfuls of that dry, bourbon-sweet smoke mixed with the ripened peaches that always clings to his shirts, his skin, the base of his throat. You mewl, distressed because the purity of his scent in his jacket is getting overwhelmed by your stronger heat-rich one, contaminating it. Destroying it. Itâs as though the fabric is rejecting you. As if his scent is slipping away with every breath you take. The second you breathe it in; you are removing it from the environment. But that canât possibly be right. Can it?
Where is he?
Itâs barely been five minutes, if even that, and you feel like the whole parking lot is watching you. It makes no sense because there doesnât seem to be another soul in the lot and Kai had parked away from the other cars, but you canât shake your paranoia. The windows are tinted, but it offers a poor barrier when your body is screaming for attentionâevery breath desperate, every gland throbbing, every nerve sparking like a live wire. You swear the air is rippling with the proof of your condition, like heat wafting off asphalt on a summer day. Anyone walking by would know what you are. Whatâs happening? What youâre trying to suppress. And theyâd know youâre alone. That no oneâs claimed you. That no oneâs come to help. That no one wants you like that. The defective omega.
Youâve gone through heats before. In the past. Alone. Never with an alpha. Itâs not like you are a virgin. Youâve slept with betas before. But you hadnât even wanted them around for your heats. No. You had suffered through your heats, which had always been painful and torturous, and then had decided to go on suppressants. Your previous heats had been managed with ice packs and towels, spending most of your time curled in a bathtub to keep your slick from getting on every surface of your apartment, with enough shame to last a lifetime. Youâve handled it. Youâve survived it.
But itâs never felt like this. Never this fast. Never this sharp. Never this tethered to someone elseâs absence. Never this centered on one scent, one voice, one goddamn man who said heâd be back and is still not here.
And even worse, it wasnât supposed to happen. It should have been suppressed. Your omega health doctor had warned you of the long-term consequences of being on Rhea for too long, but you hadnât listened. Itâs biting you in the butt now, and you know youâre going to have to cut it off cold turkey from this heat onwards. You can only imagine the state of your endocrine system. Youâre going to have to book an appointment with your doctor as soon as they can see you, because you donât know if you could deal with this happening to you again. Suppressants blunt hormones but this time they couldnât prevent your heat from coming on; they donât switch off fertility. Thatâs birth control, and you handled thatâbut your combination of medications doesnât help this. Worse, what if next time it happens at work.
You involuntarily shudder, your joints cracking as you straighten up and peer out the window. You feel exposed. Unmoored. Untouched and unraveling. Waiting for yourânoâan alpha to come back and take charge. Tell you what is going to happen next.
But not just any alpha. Not a stranger. Not a hypothetical. Him. Kai. You need him. Your body has already decided, and your mind is scrambling to keep up.
You hate how badly you want him back. Itâs not even for the sex. You doubt that thatâs on the table. He didnât seem interested. The omega side of you is offended. He seemed a little bit annoyed, if anything, over the matter of your heat. He probably was really looking forward to going to the corporate event. Heâs probably going to get you sequestered in the motel room and take off for the event, come back on Monday morning to pick you up or tell you to take an uber to the train station. Leave you here with snacks and silence and the lingering memory of someone who wouldnât touch you. Leave a jacket scented just enough to warn off other alphas, but not enough to truly soothe you.
You donât even know why youâre starting to feel resentful towards him all of a sudden. Maybe itâs the scent deprivation. Maybe itâs the way your body feels like itâs starving for something only he can give. Maybe youâre just furious that he didnât see this coming. That he wasnât already inside the car again the second you needed him. No, you know your mind is just picking him as the easy target. Youâre mad at yourself for not picking up on your body crying out for help earlier. For not begging off of the trip and telling Sakura yesterday that you thought you were coming down with something. No, youâre livid that you put yourself in this situation with Kai, for him to see you like this when heâs only ever seen you as strong and confident.
And just when your breath starts to stutter and become shaky, just when you feel the tears start to prick behind your eyelids and the sniffles coming onâ
The door next to you opens, making you recoil to keep from falling against him.
The burst of outside air cuts through like a slap, at least 20 degrees warmer than it is in the car, muggy and asphalt tinged, worsened by Kaiâs heady scentâthe woody, boozy, fruity concoctionâand your body reacts before you do. Knees jerking, chest heaving, your throat and wrist glands flare as youâre involuntarily jerking away from the proximity to such a prime specimen of alpha.
You havenât calmed down from his reappearance. Your mood has curdled into something volatile. Twisted into something uglier. Hotter. Sharper.
âYou were gone forever,â you snap, voice too raw to carry the anger youâre feeling. Youâll never admit itâs born out of the fear that heâs going to abandon you here while you suffer yet another heat in your lonesome. âWhat, did you decide to book the honeymoon suite?â
Kaiâs cap is tilted down, covering most of his face so you canât see his expression, but he doesnât flinch. You just feel the pressure of his gaze on you for one long, unreadable moment as you sense him taking in your posture, the way youâre curled against the center console, jacket draped over you like protective armor. You feel like heâs scanning you for cracks in your façade.
His scent is more fragrant now. Wafting off in fresh droves from his skin. The black fabric of his T-shirt keeps you from seeing if itâs sweat-dampened, but youâre sure it is under this cruel oppressive scorching heat. You know that that heightens the intensity of his scent too, making it cling to the rim of his t-shirtâs collar, brushing again and again against his flushed scent glands at his throat. Bourbon-sharp, cedar-heavy, peach-sweet. It makes your throat tighten. Makes your back arch minutely, out of your control. Makes the brat in you dig in, acting out fiercely, coming out harder out of self-defense.
âI was gone for maybe six minutes,â he says slowly. His voice is measured. Steady. Nothing like the shrill sound that you had attacked him with. âThe roomâs ready. Letâs get out of here.â
He leans in to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you instantly feel claustrophobic, one hand attempting to shove his away, the other hand on his chest trying to bar him from getting any closer.
His chest is hard beneath your palm. Warm. His shirt does cling with sweat, damp where the cotton meets his sternum. You can feel the faintest pulse of his heart beneath your fingertips, steady and a little fast, likely from him rushing back to you, yet itâs still maddeningly controlled.
âI donât need help.â The buckle clicks open anyway. Your efforts are pitiful against his alpha strength. He pulls it gently out of the way. Doesnât touch you again. Steps off to the side and just waits for you to get out.
You reach for the edge of the door with shaking hands, your fingers trying to find purchase so that you can brace yourself against the Lexusâ frame and attempt to get out. You put your right foot down and turn your body until you can place your left foot down as well. You gingerly lift your body off the seat and stand fully outside the vehicle, blinking rapidly against the harsh blinding white light of the summer sun.
Your legs holdâuntil they donât. Your knees instantly buckle, making you crumple like a leaf. Heat pulses behind your ears. Your head throbs from a migraine. Your palms land against his chest harshly, the sound of a slap echoing across the empty lot.
The feel of him, unyielding firm muscles under soft cotton, shocks your system. You feel the shape of his pecs, the rise of his breath, the warm hard frame of his anchoring your flailing form like itâs nothing. Not even shifting from your sudden weight plowing into him.
His hands are on you before you can fall to the ground, holding you against him for a moment. And thenâŚ
He doesnât ask. Doesnât hesitate. Just reaches down to hook an arm underneath your knee, the other, the other securely across your back, lifting you easily, his grip unshakable. You gasp, not from the sudden movement but from the contact, the way your body melts into him like itâs been waiting for this. You fit against him perfectly, to your horror.
His scent hits you all over again, this time directly from the source. The sharp edge of cedar under his jaw and behind his ears, the faint bourbon-vanilla-tinged salt at his nape, the wild tang of clean male exertion threaded through with juicy lush peach rising from the black cotton at his chest. You find yourself submerged in it. Your pupils blown wide, until only the blacks of your eyes remain.
Your thighs clench instinctively, and he adjusts his hold to position you higher, like he knows youâre fighting it, and he doesnât want to give you the chance to break out of his hold and attempt to run away just to prove a point and spiral further.
âDonât,â you whisper, fists curling against his chest. âDonât carry me like Iâmââ
âLike youâre what?â he murmurs, his voice low and maddeningly even as his nose brushes the crown of your head. âFeverish? Unable to stand, let alone walk two steps on your own? Dripping slick in a parking lot where any passing alpha could smell you?â
You flinch. Not from the shame of the words, but the growl buried beneath them. The protective, primal thread stitched into his tone. It should terrify you. Instead, your omega scrambles toward it like a lifeline.
You want to yell at him to get away from you. You want to pull his head down to kiss him. You want to slap him. And you want to beg him to hold you tighter, to never let you go.
Instead of doing any of that, you choke on a whimper and look pointedly away from him in the direction of the motel. Belatedly, you mumble, âasshole,â under your breath. As if to prove a point.
He doesnât answer. Just adjusts your weight in his arms like itâs nothing and keeps steadily walking towards the stairs on the side of the building leading to the second floor.
His footsteps are unhurried. His breath remains steady. The heat from his arms is seeping into your bones, and every step he takes reverberates through your spine with a faint promise. You hate how secure you feel. You hate how your body collapses into him, loving the way that you fit so well against him. You hate how badly you never want him to put you down.
It almost distracts you from remembering that youâre also leaking and sweating through your clothes and writhing in his arms from oversensitivity. Your throat and wrist glands throb. Youâre warring with yourself, seconds away from sobbing and begging him to take you out here in the open.
During the walk up to the room, which couldâve been two minutes or even ten minutes, you have no concept of time anymore. The only thing grounding you now is him.
Kaiâs arms are around you, solid and bare, thick with corded muscles and strength. Since he gave you his jacket, heâs in nothing but that fitted black T-shirt, the fabric thin enough for your heat-ruined body to feel every shift of him beneath it. His biceps flex with each step, powerful muscles sliding beneath warm skin. His forearm veins stand like cords, fine arm hairs lifting as if his body canât help answering yours. You have a cheek pressed so close to his chest you can feel the rise and fall of every breath, and worse, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you stare up at his face transfixed. Under your palms you can feel the tee dragging over hard ridges of his abdomen, warm hard planes you shouldnât know so intimately considering he is your coworker. Your breasts lift with each jostle, nipples tightening beneath cotton and leather, and your thighs press, slick gathering in a warm, humiliating slide.
You know exactly where his moles are, looking at him with hyper focus. Seven on his face that youâve counted to distract yourself from how you are coming apart at the seams. Thereâs two next to left eye, one thatâs tucked under the curved tail of his eyebrow and another thatâs about two centimeters away from it, directly parallel. Another one underneath his left eye, at the edge of his cheekbone, a centimeter away from his left nostril. And then one a little below it that kisses where his lips meet; it has a twin on the right side of his face, mirroring it. A sixth one a little above the curve of his jaw on his left side; you remember that he always had a little difficulty shaving around that one in college. The seventh sits on the tip of his nose, your favorite. His fucking perfect Roman nose. He told you once that he had broken it twice by walking into the same glass wall on two separate occasions in middle school. You wouldnât have realized that his noseâs appearance was due to being broken and rehealed if he had never told you. To you, you have never seen a more perfect nose. You have had dreams about that nose, trailing down your body as he covers you in kisses, dimpling into your skin when he applies pressure.
Kai shifts his gaze to you, likely catching the heat from your gaze upon him. His nostrils flare once, a controlled inhale; his pupils blow wide, leaving thin chocolate brown rings at the rims. Your cheeks warm as you duck your face, eyes traveling down the side of his neck where your gaze is captured by yet another mole, this one darker, bigger. You stare at it now, fixated, yearning beyond relief, wanting to kiss it desperately. Your throat tips up without permission, glands fluttering beneath his jacket collar; the peach note of his scent ripens, and your slick answers its siren call, a soft surge that makes your breath catch. You donât know if itâs intentional, but it feels like he straightens up, nostrils flaring again as he walks taller, shoulders set broader, biceps and forearm muscles swelling under your knees as he adjusts you.
He doesnât pant as he continues the walk. Doesnât seem to strain or even feel like heâs putting in an effort. He just carries you like youâre weightless. The easiest burden heâs had to carry all day. A single nostril flare, then a slow, practiced exhale; the vein at his wrist jumps against the hollow of your knee as he carries you higher, cradling you against his chest.
Meanwhile, youâre suffocating on the smell of him. Bourbon and cedarwood, biting sharp spice and deep smoky wood, made heavier by the peach saccharinity that lingers low in your ribs. You want to drown in it. You want to gnaw it off him. You want him to scent youâjust once, just so you could see if it would help. Your glands are throbbing, swollen beyond relief, your nipples have never been harder or more sensitive, thereâs slick soaking through the seat of your bottoms, coating the upper half of your leggings, and every movement makes you twitch, femoral pulse kicking, wanting to jump out of your skin.
You can see the hairs on his forearms as they brush against your shapeâfine, soft, brown-black. Not quite visible in the sunlight, but you know theyâre there because your nerves are screaming about them. Theyâre ruffled up until theyâre standing, and the veins along his forearm ropes up when he adjusts you. Even the breeze feels like too much. But his hands⌠his hands donât. One spread across your back, warm and unforgiving. The other locked behind your knees. You donât think youâve ever felt hands that big, hands so obviously alphaâhis fingers almost overlap under your thighs, pressing through the fabric like heâs touching skin. Heat drags from his palm; the hard bracket of his grip makes your hips tip, and your slick answers with a soft, mortifying surge.
You hate yourself. You hate how much your body wants him.
And worseâyou hate how calm he is. How unaffected. His breathing never stutters, it never even speeds. He seems unmoved, breathing a single slow exhale. The sweat that clung to him earlier has dried, yet he still somehow smells clean, dry, not sticky, heat-slick, and sour like youâif anything, his scent turns musky, a dangerous heady aroma that settles heavy in your lungs. His shirt drags over a six-pack you can feel more than see, that stretch of muscle underneath his ribs. His arms cage you like steel bars, trapping you in what feels like a staking of claim. Your body tilts toward it without your permission.
And then youâre inside.
You donât really see the room, still caught up in looking at Kai. You canât make yourself care at the moment. All you know is that the temperature changes, cooler, slightly smelling of menthol-tinged cigarettes and stale potato chips. The air conditioning is off, but you donât find yourself as irked by it as you should be as the scent of Kai still overwhelms every bit of your senses.
He lowers you gently onto the edge of the bed. It feels like a loverâs caress. Your heart pangs when you remember yourself asking if he booked the honeymoon suite. You regret your outburst. The second his arms let go your body reaches; hips tipping for pressure, the throbbing and emptiness in your core worsening until your slick floods the seat of your leggings once more, a low, humiliating answer to nothing but his proximity, your nipples tighten under cotton and leather, and you feel like youâre seconds away from your façade cracking, collapsing into tears from sheer humiliation.
The moment your feet hit the floor, you grip the bed behind you to stay upright, not wanting to fall back upon the bed, not wanting Kai to see you in that vulnerable sprawled out position. Your throat tips up a fraction, glands fluttering under his open jacket collar; your wrists subconsciously turn palms-up on your thighs like youâre offering them in submission like your body has forgotten the rules your brain wrote for alphas.
Kai doesnât hover, quickly taking a step back, angling his body between you and the shut door protectively, his dark thick brows drawn as he carefully watches you. Thereâs that unreadable look on his face again that sits somewhere between concern and calculation. Youâve seen that expression before, in meetings, in hallways, behind glass walls. It always makes people nervous. Now, it makes you gulp as your limbs seem to lock. Your eyes track a single nostril flare, then a slow exhale; his forearm veins lift when his fingers flex open again.
He slips your phone out of his back jeanâs pocket. You donât even know when he had grabbed it, hadnât remembered to get it yourself. As he slips it into your open palm, he nods once toward your phone. âYeah, right⌠You should text Sakura.â
His voice is low. Steady. That particular cadence that makes people obey him without question. It cuts through the thick fog in your brainâbut not cleanly. It doesnât dissipate the cloudiness gently. Rather it hurts. Sharp disorientation It drags you back to your body too fast, like he pulled you out of a lake and had pressed hard on your chest until you coughed up all the water in your lungs.
âWhat?â you breathe, blinking slowly, you canât pay attention to his voice, distracted by the loud sound of blood coursing to your ears. Your heat-fogged brain moves before you do; your passcode is in when you donât remember touching the screen.
âSheâs going to wonder why youâre not there. Tell her youâre sickâsomething that makes sense. You donât have to tell her you went into heat. Just make it sound plausible enough for you to be missing the retreat.â
Your head jerks up at that as you stare at him like a deer caught in headlights, but youâre also furious with irritation sparking through the haze of your heat-driven brain fog. âDo you think Iâm a fucking idiot? Iâm not about to announce to my boss that Iâm in heat, Kai.â The word spits out of you like it burns. âI know how to cover my own ass.â
Kai sighs, posture straightening, shoulders quietly broader, moving closer towards you, his eyes are almost completely black, comforting brown irises swallowed up by his dilated pupils, âI know youâre not stupid,â he says, almost gently, his voice at odds with his demeanor as if heâs trying hard not to spook you. âIâm telling you because youâre burning up and exhausted, and I donât trust Sakura and everyone else at work not to push if your excuse is flimsy.â
You open your mouth, ready to fire back, to spit something mean, but his gaze holds you in place, dark and unflinching. Your throat feels tight. His hand settles on your knee, two seconds, one precise squeeze, not sexual, firm enough to silence you. âWrite the texts. Iâll get the bags.â
This is why omegas need alphas, the tiny voice in your head makes its presence known again. This is why omegas have alphas to guide them during their heats.
You understand the appeal.
He could say anything right now and youâd do it. You want to do it. Want to fall to your knees. You want to cry. Scream. You want to claw at him. You want to beg. You want to tell him that youâll take any scrap that he gives you.
Because he doesnât look at you like youâre unraveling. He looks at you like youâre important.
âAnd donât tell anyone else,â he murmurs. âNo one. You donât have to. Itâs none of their business.â
Thereâs something different in his face now. A flicker. His jaw tightens for half a second. His brows knit, but not in anger. You think heâs scared. Or furious. Or both. âStay put. Donât open the door for anyone. I have a key,â His jacket is still draped over your body; he tugs it tighter, like heâs attempting to shield you. âIâll get our stuff.â
Concern and fear then, you decide. You donât get to ask. You donât get to speak before heâs gone, the door thudding closed behind him.
You swallow hard, turning your gaze to look around the room, finally noticing the details of it properly. The walls are beige-gray, while the carpet is a pattern of browns, greens, and grays meant to disguise stains, and the overhead ceiling lights are warm-toned but still grating to your sensitive eyes, appearing to buzz and go in and out of focus as you stare right up at it, making yourself go dizzy. You inhale and exhale roughly, trying to shake your head out and get rid of the faint nausea you suddenly feel. The air smells faintly of disinfectant, salt, and cigarette smoke, not strong enough to mask your own scent bleeding into the room. And because youâre still obeying Kai even when he isnât here, your omega bowing down to him and accepting him as alpha, you thumb out exactly what he told you into your iPhone and hit send, making it instantly start to buzz with quick replies from Sakura. You canât deal with it right now. You turn your ringer off and then throw the device onto one of the nightstands facedown. And the bed. One bed, a double bed masquerading as queen-sized, tucked against the main wall, centered in the room. The white comforter adorning it looks scratchy, appears stiff with industrial detergent. The sight of it makes your body contort as a small, mean cramp hooks low behind your navel at the thought of Kaiâs heavy weight pressing down on you, trapping you against the mattress, your body reacts in opposite ways of desire and pain, reminding you that you will be suffering until you give into the cruel omega biology that doesnât negotiate.
You stare at it too long. The implication of it. The inevitability of it. A slow, liquid ache keeps spreading like heat under your skin, and you can feel your glands thrumming along your throat in time, as if they know whatâs better for you than your mind does.
Rising on shaky legs that make you feel like a newborn foal, you make yourself cross to the bathroom. The large wall length mirror is merciless, showing you your pale countenance, your cheeks are swollen and flushed a bleeding pink, the only spot of color on your pallid visage. Thereâs a sheen of sweat glinting along your hairline while your eyes are rimmed red from holding back frustrated tears. You grip the edge of the sink, willing your reflection to look prettier, more put together. You want Kai to find you desirable.
Your body tortures you for not giving it what it needs; your lower belly being yanked by a tight, petulant tug, a warning you pretend not to feel, and your hips feel loose and wrong, like the joints want to tilt and present while you force them to stand stiff, and the effort makes you a little lightheaded. Behind you, the two layers of clear shower curtains hang limp, plastic against plastic. Water calls to you, you can so easily imagine the steam that would be fogging the cheap glass, seeing your hands braced and your mouth open while you have the detachable showerhead pressed just rightâcold water, hot water, any waterâpressureâhitting you right where you need relief, but you donât have the energy to peel your clothes off. And you donât know if you should until Kai decides to stop going in and out of the room and finally makes the decision to leave permanently or stay put inside, keeping you company. Because if he leaves, you will be loud in grief. But if he stays, you will be loud for different reasons, and your thighs press together just from the excitement of the second possibility while your slick decides to punish you for the thought by another thick flow streaming out as a small spasm pinches deep where you donât have words, making you press your palm harder to the counter until it passes.
When you return to the bedroom, the air is thicker with your scent, and you slowly shuffle towards the bed, holding the leather jacket closed tight at your chest as you carefully lower yourself onto the mattress. The sheets smell like bleach and something faintly floral. They are clean but not comforting. You find yourself lying on top of the scratchy polyester cotton blend duvet cover because you are too exhausted to untuck the bedding from around the mattress. And the fabric scrapes along your shoulder blades with each restless squirm you make as each breath you take makes your nipples pucker harder, turning into peaks that are as hard as diamonds. A dull ache settles along your inner thighs, and the femoral pulse is thudding like a bad drum that keeps speeding up whenever you think of his hands and all the possibilities of what they can do.
You stay there, staring at the ceiling, noticing the water stains on the speckled gray particle boards. You donât touch yourself. How could you? You donât know when heâs going to be back. And if you even think about sliding your hand down, your scent will spike and heâll know in a single inhaleâthe thought of that humiliation alone is enough to constrain you, and you are too proud to chafe from it in front of him. Yet you still find yourself bridling again at his lack of reaction. Omegas make up about 5-10% of the population (the ten being a generous, high, estimation). Why doesnât he want you? Why isnât he attracted to you? You wouldnât switch off being in this situation with Kai as opposed to the sales team in Jakeâs Rivian, but it canât help but sting. Those alphas made you feel pretty, made you think that you were alluring from all the attention. But attention is cheap, and provision is not; your omega body does not care about population percentages or covetous eyes, it cares about being taken and getting knotted, it cares about you getting filled up with come and getting breeded until there is success. It will only assuage the ache once you give it what it demands, and because you arenât providing it, a sharper cramp twists low in your pelvis, hard enough to water your eyes, making you break through tightly clenched teeth and lie very, very still for a moment.
But you canât make yourself stay on the bed. Even with the pain you are too restless. Lying there with the duvet stiff under your hands, the bed stretching out behind you feels scary. You stand too fast, forgetting to move gingerly lest another bout of cramps hit you with vengeance and your knees immediately turn wobbly, making you slowly migrate toward the small armchair wedged against the window. The cushions are lumpy, the fabric rough against the back of your thighs, but it feels less⌠incriminating than the bed. So you fold into it, making yourself smaller, curling up into a ball and trying to hide all of your glands as if that will help, living under the delusion that if you hide the scent then maybe you can get rid of the need and confuse your body into behaving. Itâs hopeless. A thin, needling pain flares low and left, then subsides to a throb; your body keeps bargaining with you, communicating in cramps and pulses as its version of Morse code: Find an alpha. Take him. Keep him. Make him make you his. You shake your head like that could dislodge the biology loose, and your jaw sets stubbornly because you are still convinced that willpower has to count for something.
You breathe slowly. Four counts in, four out. Again, and then again, because the first round barely dents it. On your fifth time through, another little tighten-and-release ripples through your belly hinting that things will soon turn worse if you continue pretending you are fine and refuse to properly deal with it. You pointlessly remind yourself you are on birth control (useless for this) and that suppressants blunt hormones, not instinct, and that none of it matters because the ache blooms anyway and your slick pours out, warm and mortifying. Your knees draw tighter as you try to physically ball up your pain. Your sensitive ears pick up a noise outside in the hallway, and your throat tilts toward the door, traitorous and seeking because it has already abandoned its loyalty to you for what Kai can offer to it. You bury your head in your palms, not able to look at the room any longer. Every surface is a possibility you canât afford to pictureâthe bed, the chair, the wall, the table. You think: If he comes back, I will behave. If he leaves, I will survive. And then you think about the more dangerous thing: If he stays.
You hear the him before you see him; the clink of the key in the lock and the soft scrape of rubber soles against thin carpet, alerting you to his presence, enough to make you jolt upright, your spine shifting away from the armchairâs back like youâve been caught doing something you shouldnât. There is a pause as you hold your breath, then the latch settles with a clean click and your throat tips toward the sound, glands fluttering under leather.
He enters with the brown paper bag with the leftover pastries in one hand, rustling faintly as it swings by his thigh, your ebony colored Faux-lène and overfilled pink VS duffle bag in the other hand. The sunlight peaking in from the hallway slants in behind him, a line of gold cutting across the motel roomâs flat gray-beige tones, and he looks haloed in it for a second. Too tall for the space. Ethereal in a terrifying avenging god type way. Too solid and imposing as his frame eats up the doorway. Thereâs no way heâs only a little over six feet tall. He always shrinks into himself and tries to make himself look less scary, less intimidating and threatening. Now staring at him against the suddenly cramped looking doorway, you wonder if heâs not 6â3 or 6â4. His shoulder angles to block the hall as the door closes so that no one can look into the room, can catch a glimpse of you. His eyes remain black, pupils still dilated, havenât constricted back to their pretty brown during his time away from you. A single nostril flares and smooths with a slow, controlled exhale as he takes in your scent that has practically draped itself over every bit of the room. The fine hairs on his forearms are standing.
You try not to stare. You fail miserably as your gaze hungrily flits over his body, noting his appearance from head to toe. Heâs flipped his baseball cap so that the brim is no longer covering his face. The fitted black T-shirt pulled clean over his upper half reveals so much skin, more than you have ever seen of the male who favored oversized sweatshirts and hoodies in college and wears long-sleeved button-downs to work. The black terry cloth joggers hug his strong thighs and firm calves, tapering at the ankle. And still, itâs not enough. Your perusal does nothing to sate your lust. You find yourself wondering if he has a scattering of fine dark hair on his chest or it is isolated to being there from his navel downâa trail you wish desperately to be meant for your mouth. Is he cut or uncut (you hope cut, your body reacts to the image you form in your mind for that version of his cock). What color would he be in your palm; how heavy would he be on your tongue; how would he taste; how would he feel; is he a grower that will swell in your cunt; how massive would the knot be? Are there no tan lines under all that black, just uniform lightly golden cream skin, or is he paler where youâve never seen, a shimmery pearlescent color. The thoughts come hard and fast, impossible for you to shove them away.
His short sleeves are riding high on his biceps, revealing lightly honeyed skin that seems to glitter, tightly clinging to tendon and muscles, dusted with the random dark mole and the thinnest, almost invisible gold tipped black hairs. His arms have faint green blue veins jutting out, roping around his forearms, traveling over the back of his hands and fingers which are tight-fisting the bags. And thereâs a fancy looking Cartier skeleton watch cradling his left wrist, black crocodile leather and gold metal accents, that must have cost a five-figure fortune you hadnât noticed before. It appears to be well-loved and worn soft with age with tiny cracks in the leather. The strap creaks when he shifts his grip, but his cadence remains unhurried as he moves further into the room.
His shirt is still faintly wrinkled from carrying you, like he hasnât thought to brush it down and smooth the fabric that clings to the tight pectoral muscles of his six-pack. His hair is a tumbleweed explosion of black stick straight hair jutting out in every direction at the nape of his neck, barely contained by his cap. You want to reach out and smooth it down. You want to, well not fix him, but take care of him. Make him look more put together. But you also want to mess him up. Leave proof of you on his form. He smells musk-warm now, the cedar and bourbon thickened with skin-salt and that ripe peach is tooth achingly sweetened; your nipples tighten meanly as the scentâs hits you low, making your gut tighten and your slick answer in a slow, hot slide, soaking the armchairâs seat.
He doesnât say anything at first, just crosses to the nightstand beside the bed and drops the paper bag with a soft thud that still manages to sound impossibly loud in the stillness. Your bags are deposited onto the free armchair by the window. His posture remains tall and straight, his shoulders set broader, but his movements are neat, economical, reassuring.
Heâs still looking at the bags when he speaks, saying, âYou need to eat something.â The words are low. Measured, even as his voice is gravelly, worn thin from the long drive. âYou havenât had anything since the car. Youâre notââ his jaw flexes, eyes flicking to your flushed skin, then darting away, ââyouâre not going to last like this if you donât get something in your system.â He keeps his volume soft, pace even, calm thatâs threaded with iron. The vein at his wrist jumps and vanishes as he lightly tightens a fist from where it hangs besides his thigh.
You look at the pastry bag, stomach clenching for reasons that have nothing to do with hunger. âKai, I canâtâIâmâIâm not hungry,â you reply automatically, breathier than you meant to sound. Your throat wobbles on his name while your behind-ear glands spark the heat pinching soft.
His dark eyes flick to yours. âYou can,â he cuts in, softer but firm. He digs in the tote, taking out a water bottle thatâs still somehow cold, unscrewing it before he presses it into your hands. âStart with that. Iâll⌠Iâll check if the motel kitchen does room service, or if anywhere delivers this far out. You need real food, not just sugar. But for now, this will do until Iâm back with the rest of the bags.â A pause. A break. He seems to struggle with what to say. âEat now,â he addsâgentle yet absoluteâthen, after a heartbeat that feels like a hand on your sternum, âPlease.â His pupils donât change; his tone doesnât rise; the authority lives in the steadiness.
The silence stretches, making you focus on the thick, sweet, humiliatingly vibrant abrasiveness of your scent, curling heavier into the room. His nostrils flare for a split second before smoothing quickly; he pretends not to notice and the pretense makes you ache from his consideration.
You feel every inch of it, like itâs pressing down on your skin. You want to argue, to toss some half-hearted line about needing privacy or needing space or needing a moment to think. Thatâs what you need. Not food. But youâre not thinking. Not really. Youâre reacting. Entirely hormonal, helpless, and vibrating with shame. Another small, mean cramp hooks low above your ass. Your knees turn in, trying to hide the heat even as your body angles toward him.
You sip the water because heâs staring until you do, but the cool liquid doesnât soothe the burn rising inside you. He nods once in mild satisfaction, but it quickly dissipates, a frown returning to his lips as he pointedly looks at the leftover pastries. He grabs one of the croissants, tears it into chunks and places it on the wax paper for you before handing it off to you. âSmall bites,â he suggests, as if that will help.
The jacket around your shoulders feels suffocating now, not protective. You clutch it tighter, anyway, burying your face half in the collar so you donât have to look at him.
Your voice comes out muffled, âItâs cold. Hard. Stale.â It isnât. You just want him to figure out a solution, tend to your needs, but you donât know how to ask.
He doesnât move. But you can feel the shift in his attention. The way his eyes go over youâjacket, flushed skin, hunched posture, clenched fists. He drops his chin a tad, reading you the way he usually reads error reports.
He steps closer. Not much. Just enough. His tone doesnât change. âUse the microwave. Iâm bringing the rest of the bags. I expect you to have eaten by the time I get back.â
The cadence is gentle command, not question; the expectation in it lands low enough to make your slick answer and your pride bristle in the same instance. His shoulder turns back to the door, ready to leave.
That does it.
Something inside you kicks, mean and restless. You want to snarl that he canât order you around. That youâre not some omega stereotype, desperate for food and instructions and a babysitter. That youâve survived worse heats than this. Alone. Freezing in your bathtub with a towel stuffed underneath your thighs, biting down on your palm just to keep from sobbing too loud. The memory knifes through your belly and leaves a cramp in its wake; you breathe through itâfour in, four outâand your body betrays you by wanting to give into his commands anyway.
But heâs already walking away, probably hasnât even noticed you bristling. And something about thatâhis confidence, his certaintyâmakes your anger sputter and flicker like a match in the wind.
The door closes behind him.
And youâre left again, wondering what the hell is your life? Youâre supposed to be at a corporate retreat, pretending to care about synergy and morale. Instead, youâre in a roadside motel, sweat-damp, restless, every nerve in your body screaming at you. The weak ceiling fan that Kai had turned on, flipping the switch by the door as he left, rattles, shaking the tepid air in the room that does nothing to cool the fever under your skin.
The door opens again.
You donât startle this time. But your body still reacts, jolting lightly, shifting minutely, keen hungry eyes dragging toward the threshold before you can stop yourself. The movement is compulsive now. When Kai leaves, something in you strains to track him like youâre tethered by instinct and not reason. Your throat tilts in his direction without permission; your glands, swollen and blood flushed, flutter at the edges of your clothing as if they could beckon.
He reenters heavier this time. You can hear it in the way his boots hit the laminate. The subtle shift of breath under movement. The bags slung over his shoulders redistribute with every step, brushing against each other with the soft hiss of ballistic nylon and thick straps. There is a new color on himâscarlet and fuchsia mixed with creamâa flush starting high and darkest at the ears before running in a faint ribbon along his cheekbones, looking the most muted as it disappears into the collar of his shirt.
Heâs got everything now.
The silver Rimowa clinks softly at his side with each stride, wheels squeaking once as they bump over the lip of the carpet. His laptop bag is hooked over his shoulder, same as it was yesterday, no longer looking as threatening as it did when it kept you cornered in the elevator yesterday. His massive backpack hugs his back, straps making it snug to his frame. And then there's the reusable grocery tote, that ridiculous overstuffed snack bag, hanging off one arm like it might split open at any moment from the weight of energy bars, crinkly bags of sodium, pouches of chewy gummies, and fluorescent electrolyte drinks. When he straightens under the load, the terry joggers pull for half a second across the front, just a drag of fabric over something thick and solidâyour vision pinning there before you can stop it as heat punches deep and low in your core. He shifts the tote subtly forward, leaving it at the foot of the bed.
You look towards it, distracted. Your throat tightening until itâs difficult to swallow. Itâs whatâs nestled on top of all of the snacks.
The penguin.
You had dropped it by the rubber floor mat of the passenger seat when you left the car. You hadnât even remembered it was in the Lexus.
But he had. And you feel horrible about it. Leaving his present behind that he had so thoughtfully given to you early that morning. The guilt folds into apology that becomes threaded so quickly with want that you canât unbraid them.
Kai walks straight to the corner by the closet as you ruminate, dropping his bags with clinical precision. Nothing thuds sloppily. Nothing falls over from carelessness. He lowers the suitcase carefully, removes the laptop bag and places it on the nightstand further away from you. Finally, he crosses over the room again and untangles the penguin from the mess of bag straps and crinkly snack packages andâŚturns back toward you. His mouth is slightly redder than before, like heâs been licking at it. His Adamâs apple jumps once when your eyes meet.
He doesnât seem mad as he hands over the penguin stuffie so that you can immediately clutch it to your chest for comfort. And you feel your chest cave inward as you pull it closeânot to cradle, not to cuddle, just to hold. Like maybe if you press it hard enough to your sternum, itâll anchor you to something solid. Something real. Something that doesnât make your skin itch and your glands pulse and your thoughts spin in unspooling circles. You widen your eyes a fraction, feigning being demure on purpose, biting your bottom lip because youâve read that alphas like softness, like compliance as your free wrist turns palm-up to offer up the scent glands there.
Kai watches you for a moment longer. Then, carefully, like heâs navigating around landmines, something volatile, he murmurs, âDo you need anything else from the car?â His voice is lower than before, a shade rougher; the pace is clipped to short clauses as if the urgency will prevent him from acting erratically. He is blushing down the line of his throat, redder, a thick wash of heightened color that is darkest at his pulse. He swallows hard, his Adamâs apple bobbing while he waits for your reply.
You open your mouth. Close it again. Your eyes drop to the penguin in your lap, your fingers smoothing the crushed fabric as if youâre inspecting it for damage.
âNo,â you say, and the word comes out soft. âThat was everything.â You make it gentler than you meant to; yes, Kai, sits unsaid in your mouth: I need you desperately, please stay here with me.
He doesnât nod. Doesnât give you that low hum of agreement he usually does. He just waits a beat longer, contemplating, a long enough pause that you nearly go mad from it and utters, âIâll see if they have room service. Or takeout menus.â
You look at your knees, frowning. Unsettled.
âYeah, right. Change out of your things,â he adds, pointedly not looking at your thighs, ever the gentleman. âFreshen up. Set a timer for nourishment: water every half an hour, something solid every two.â The directives are soft yet precise; the volume of his voice never rises, doesnât falter, but the command in it is clear; the alpha tone rings out strong. He clears his throat once and itâs a small, betraying sound.
Then he turns. The turn is quick, eager, almost careless; he manages to correct mid-step, shifting away from you, facing the door more unmistakably. Your face falls. You canât watch him walk out this time. You just listen. The creak of the laminate. The soft, decisive snick of the door as it opens.
Before he leaves, he sighs. His voice when he speaks is falsely upbeat and gentle: âIâll be right outside the door okay? Iâll knock three times and speak out if I need to enter. Iâll call you on the phone if you donât give me a verbal affirmation for coming inside. Text me if you need anything. I have a powerbank and my phone is fully charged. Iâll figure out lunch and dinner while youâwhile you rest.â
And thenâ
Silence.
Youâre still holding the penguin. Its soft fur clings to your palm, warm from being in the car while it baked in the parking lot. Thereâs a low, steady burn spreading across your chest. You press your face into it, jaw tight, and breathe in, gasping when you realize instead of smelling brand-new and synthetic it smells of Kai, like he had taken the time to scent it at some point after the two of you had arrived at the motel. Itâs not aggressive, scented with notes of dominance, rather it reads comforting and protective. You press the plush beak against your throat, right over your glands, and the smell settles like a blanketâcedar, bourbon, that ripe peachâsoftened, not sharp, like he meant you to rest under it. Through the door, you can hear the faintest suggestion of weight shifting as Kai settles against it, an annoyed huff and then another, the tapping of his boots against the dry cement of the walkway. You picture him there, flushed and upright and trying not to think of you. You hope he feels as miserable as you.
No. You meanly hope he feels worse out there with no air conditioning. That he becomes red and sunburnt in the August heat. That he suffers because he refused to be in here with you.
You feel like you are close to tears. You wish they had come earlier so you couldâve let him see it and that he would have stayed. Given in out of pity.
You know thatâs just the heat talking. Heâs doing the right thing. And that when the haze clears in 2-3 days, youâll be glad for his willpower. But right now, it just feels like rejection.
You donât know how long you sit there in a daze but after a while you feel the heat coming back with a vengeance, the sensations no longer dulled. You regret missing your opportunity to have freshened up like Kai had suggested as you shakily lift yourself off the armchair, wobbly limping towards the bed, falling upon it ungracefully as you writhe from the tremors taking over your body, the slick gushing thick, your chest heaving as your nipples are constricted to sharp tight pain points, your cunt tightens around nothing, begging for friction.
You let out a plaintive whimper. Oh god. You need stimulation. You need relief. You needâŚ
Kai.
You need Kai.
Sweet, sexy Kai.
You can envision him so clearly.
He has those deep, steady chocolate brown eyes that have never once landed on you with anything sharp in them, only that patient warmth that makes you feel safe and cared for, the kind of gaze that holds like a tight embrace rather than a painful grip freezing you in placeâpretty eyes framed by long straight, dark lashes. And then the seven little moles you could place in the dark taking up space on the smooth unblemished countenance of his face: the twin specks near the left brow tail, the tiny one under his eye, the pair that bracket his mouth like quotation marks around things he hasnât said, the small freckle on the jaw, and your favorite dot on the bridge of his perfect, twice-broken Roman nose that gives him the most beautiful side profile
Your mind turns to his mouth next. Soft and maddening, the way his pinkened lips fold into that quiet pout when he runs out of words and ruminates on what to say. The habitual bite at the right corner of his lower lip when heâs thinking. The way the color deepens to maroon when he presses them flat to keep something in, and you can see the exact shape they would make around a command.
You imagine him exactly as he is standing outside the room. The plain unassuming baseball cap thatâs usually canted low on his face but the brim flipped back now in your vision so that you can see him clearly: straight black hair pushing out at the nape in curved, disobedient ends you ache to smooth, and there are his ears, hugged by his thick dark sideburns that make him look so masculine, so attractive, burning crimson when he is flustered, that blush sliding over his cheekbones and down the pale-gold column of his throat where his Adamâs apple jumps as he swallows in his desperate attempts to regain composure.
Then there are his shoulders that are broader than he lets on, usually folded inwards towards his chest and the long, clean line of his neck that leads to sharp pointed collarbones and a hard chest your hands still remember, fingers curling, light blue pointed of your nails biting into your palms, wishing they could clutch it instead. You remember the black T-shirt pulled tight over pectorals and the shallow center line that runs down into the stacked ridges of his abdomen.
His arms, lightly dusted with near-invisible brown-black hairs that apparently lift when heâs keyed up, his blue-green veins roping along his forearms toward hands that are almost obscene in their competence, hands that could span from your waist without trying, fingers long with jutting knuckles, tipped with shiny clean nails. The old Cartier strap creaking at his wrist when he flexes.
His scent you have become so familiar with in the past two days: the deep, smoky cedarwood that carries the greenness of lush forests with it; the rich boozy bourbon thatâs sweetened by vanilla and spice filled with black pepper and clove; the deep juicy sugary sweetness of ripened summer-warmed peach thatâs both soft yet syrupy.
Your mindâs gaze catches on his black terry joggers that hug his powerful thick athletic thighs before tapering down to his muscular calves, toned from his daily runs. The fabric is tighter against his front, sticking out a bit. Your breath stutters, you can only imagine how large he is underneath from what youâve been able to piece together throughout the years. How big he grows. How generous the knot is when it forms, popping out, ready to plug.
You know heâs likely slumped against the door right now, already tired of standing up. Leaning his back to it like an American, one heel braced, weight half pressed against the wall and doorway, the rest against the door. His little slouch that only makes him look more rumpled and sexier. Heâs probably rubbing his right knee, which has been known to bother him occasionally, absentminded little massages from his right hand, thumb digging into the sides, while his left hand scrolls his Samsung flip phone, thumb moving in calm, even strokes, as he scrolls, the light blue screen glow painting his knuckles luminescent. His breaths likely more measured now that heâs away from you and able to relax, not having to keep such a firm lid on his alpha instincts.
And then thereâs that last bit, the part that makes your desperate fingers attempt to tuck in between the damp leggings that seem glued to your skin by sweat and slick⌠the sound of him. The low timbre that edges his voice when he is tired or holding something back. The husk that threads through your ribs when every second word of his comes out with lighthearted humor, tinged with his high-pitched cackle-like laughter. The strong, confident cadence he uses when he wants compliance without raising the volume.
And you can imagine exactly what he would sound like when he says what he needs, growls to take what he wants: a rough yet light snarled whisper, full of certainty. Each sensual heat filled word landing boldly like a promise that hints at what he has in store for you: pleasure and ruination. Kai never swears. Is always sweet. Good-mannered. Pleasant even at his most displeased. But with a certainty you feel deep in your bones, a hunger that makes your core clench and gush out even more slick, you know his voice would be deep and raspy when aroused. The noises coming out of his throat, guttural and animalistic. Sounding filthy and debauched. Being detailed and explicit. Breathing out words that are terribly vulgar and temptingly enticing as he took what he knew was meant for him. Promising possessiveness and delivering ecstasy.
The lock clicks with a harsh clack that sounds unforgiving to his ears. The faint hum of the ceiling fan and all of the other sounds from the room seems to be instantly muted on the other side of the wood, but Kai still feels his ears straining, eager to pick up anything new. The breath that escapes him is a shudder, not a sigh when he looks around him to see if thereâs any threats he should be on the alert for. Heat pours off his skin in waves that the hallway air refuses to cool. He thinks this is the one downside to having an open layout for a motel though he does still find it less eerie than a walled hallway with blinking weak lights that feels like back rooms. The icy metal handle is still beneath his fingers when he realizes heâs been gripping it hard enough for the metal to bite into his calluses.
He finally slumps, spine painfully meeting the cool paint of the door, shoulders slamming the wood with a muted thud. His legs go weak for a secondâjust a secondâalmost buckling under his weight before they lock again. He drags a palm down his face. It comes away damp. His pulse wonât settle. It keeps punching behind his ribs like itâs trying to find its way out.
Youâre in there. The thought hits first, unbidden, almost harmless.
Youâre in there, only the thin motel room door between them. He could reach against it, flatten his palm to the wood, and it would be almost touching you. Almost. The closest heâs ever been, and still light-years away. The distance feels wrong. His skin knows itâs wrong. His body keeps waiting for the rest of him to follow throughâgo in, touch, fix whatever is making you sound like that.
Does this make any sense?
He swallows hard, gulping as his Adamâs apple wobbles, the mole on his neck moving up and down. Donât you fucking start.
Then the smell hits next.
It seeps under the door, sweet and floral at first, then heavier, warmerâyou. The scent of you curls through the muggy summer air like smokeâcitrus fading into rose, rose melting into vanilla, and under all of it, that soft tangy salty human thing that hits him straight behind the teeth. His throat works around a breath that tastes like your skin. The breath he pulls in is a mistake; it sets his lungs on fire. He exhales through his teeth, half a groan, half a warning to himself.
His body moves before his mind catches up. A single, helpless jolt forwardâhips pushing against nothing, air, the door as if instinct could trick his body into relief. The reaction is violent in its honesty. Heat floods down his spine, a pulse he canât suppress, tight and hot and humiliating. He feels it throb through every nerve, a reminder that heâs not made of iron after all, that all his training and decency are no match for your scent bleeding through cheap wood. His throat closes on a curse.
No. Donât.
His stomach knots as he braces the hand, that had been initially against the door, trying to feel closer to you, to try and keep upright. The ache wonât ebb, it only deepens, the kind of pressure that drags at his breath until each exhale shakes. He grinds his teeth, uselessly, trying to ride it out. The grain is rough against his fingertips, grounding, but his body doesnât care about grounding. It wants scent, skin, noise. It wants you.
Pathetic. The word is soft in his mind, but it lands like a blow all the same. You canât even control your own body. Sheâs in there suffering, and youâre out hereâ
He cuts the thought off, jaw locking until it hurts. He hates the way he can feel his pulse everywhere, the heat that keeps climbing instead of breaking. He hates that a single inhale can turn him traitor.
He presses his forehead against the door, eyes slipping shut seeking peace, breath shallow, waiting for the tremor in his hands to stop. It doesnât.
For a second he sees the memory of you from only moments ago, how you kept revealing the line of your neck as you repeatedly tilted your head up towards him in what felt like was an offering, the way your voice broke as your heat took over and sapped away more of your strength. He feels the echo of you in his palms, soft curves where there is only old splintering wood. The image is a knife twisting slowly. He has the key. He could justâ
Donât you fucking dare, Kai. The thought comes fast. Hurling through raw and hoarse. Youâll kill yourself before you ever hurt her. So stay the fuck away from her.
How can this situation even exist? How is it possible he is in this situation right now?
He bows his head until his forehead almost touches his chest, his bangs brushing against his T-shirt collar, breathing through his nose, short and ragged, trying to burn the image out of his skull. The scent wonât leave. It clings; the ghost of you sweet and heavy in his throat, reminding him of every rule he swore he wouldnât break.
He doesnât move again. He just stands there, shaking, fighting for his next breath and the one after that, until the wanting in his chest dulls enough to feel like a manageable pain instead of fire that threatens to ruin him.
Hold it together.
When he can finally lift his head, he stares straight forward, scanning his surroundings. The hallway is empty except for the janky bicycle in front of someoneâs door, three rooms down. Two vending machines, one for salty and sweet snacks and one for canned and bottled drinks drones noisily beside the door for the emergency exit. The air smells of chlorine, hinting that thereâs a pool somewhere on the property and asphalt, itâs the kind of chemical summer heat and smells that burns his nostrils. Kai forces his eyes to moveâleft, right, corner to cornerâmapping exits, lights, shadows. The kind of survey he can do on autopilot. Anything to pretend that heâs still functioning properly.
One of his hands drags down to the knob, checks the lock again. Once. Twice. The click is solid. Good. He immediately stops testing the door when he hears you inhale sharply, the citrus notes of your scent flaring sharply acidic. Fuckkk, heâs making you nervous. You shouldnât have to worry about him breaking in and lunging for you at any moment. He rubs his hand over face, thumb and forefinger pinching at the part of his bridge that didnât set right after it broke for the second time.
Fortunately, you soon calm, your scent becoming sweeter. More lush. He turns his head toward the parking lot, needing a distraction, counting the cars, pretending to calculate the amount of booked rooms. Heâs already done it. He just needs something to do with his mind. His fingers find his phone instead; he opens up the SMS app, types a few words. Then immediately deletes them before he can send anything. The letters blur. God what is he doing? Trying to distract you from making yourself feel better? Make you give him attention, as though heâs the one that needs it? No. He will only text you if itâs an emergency or as a reply to when you message him first.
The practical part of him knows that this is what a good man does. A decent alpha. Guards the door, keeps the world away. This is what an alpha who isnât mated to the omega, who the omega hasnât asked to physically tend to their needs should do. He should protect you. Yeah. Right. Make sure youâre safe from getting preyed upon.
But the decent part of him is cracking. Each inhale pulls you deeper into him. He takes off his cap with a rough movement, dragging a hand through his thick black hair, the motion jerky, rough enough to sting as his nails scratch against scalp. He determines that he needs a haircut; the ends are becoming dry and brittle, easily settling into tangled messes. Nothing helps. The tension crawls lower, rooting where it aches the most. He wants to hit something, needs to move, do something, anything other than stand here and feel his body strum to the frequency of your need like you two are in synchrony.
When he has gotten himself just about settled, he jolts suddenly, losing his composure. His head almost slams into the door with how fast he turns it to make his ear be pressed against it, straining⌠straining to hear better. Thereâs a faint shift, barely there. The ceiling fan seems to slow for a second, the whirling sound inside fading to let the other sounds in the room become sharper, for a moment. And he hears it with startling clarity, a long whine swallowing a rapid gulp, followed by the scratch of polyester fabric catching, a quick intake of air through the nose.
He freezes.
How can this exist???
Then comes the rhythm. The creaks and squeaks of the mattress. Slow at first. Uneven. The cheap mattress springs compressing and releasing, the whisper of wet cloth moving against skin. Itâs so quiet he almost convinces himself heâs imagining itâuntil the scent hits harder, salty and tangy, tangled with sugary threads, unmistakable. Musky, thick proof of arousal.
His pulse spikes. His hand finds the doorknob, again, without thinking.
 Donât. Sheâs safe. Sheâs just⌠surviving it. LEAVE HER ALONE. Donât distract her. Donât terrify her into stopping.
He pulls his hand back like it burned when it touched the metal. Presses his fist against his thigh repeatedly until he feels the bruise blooming beneath the skin. He tilts his head back against the door, eyes closing once again, his lashes kissing his high cheekbones.
The air is alive with you. Every breath is heavy, humid, obscene. He swallows hard, jaw ticking erratically as his throat vibrates with a sound that aches to break loose.
Another soft noise comes from insideâhalf a gasp, what heâs convinced are the syllables of his name being smothered under your palm as you cover your mouth with your hand, that isnât otherwise occupied, to keep him from hearing.
It unravels him. How could it not? Especially since, despite your best efforts⌠he can hear you.
The instinct to go to you surges up too fast to block. His body leans forward before his brain can catch up, stopping the movement, weight tipping instantly towards the door. He halts himself, palms slamming against the paint with a clanging smash that echoes down the hall.
He freezes. Shit. Noooo. Listens while holding his breath. Nothing from the inside changes.
He bows his head, breath hissing out between clenched teeth in a sigh of relief. You canât go in there. Not unless she asks. Dude what is wrong with you? We just talked about this!
But the scent keeps thickening, pouring through the cracks between the doorframe and the door, curling around his body like an invisible wraith. Every inhale drags him lower down to his base self, closer to ferality. His body doesnât know the difference between protection and possession anymore.
Every breath comes back heavier, every inhale dragging slowly down his throat like thick burnt caramel sliding down, sugar burned black. His nostrils prickle, your scent has shifted again, itâs less delicate florals now, carrying more heat with it, wafting off your skin; sensual promises calling out directly to his hindbrain with a faint animalistic edge. The tonka-vanilla curls inward, darker, more ambery resin than sweetness, and his mouth waters before his brain understands why. Itâs too much. Youâre too close.
The outside world starts to blur. The hum of the vending machine fades; sunlight smears at the edges, bleeding out like watercolor mixing with the thick humidity. His pupils have blown so wide that the brightness hurts, forcing his lashes to flutter rapidly as he blinks once, twiceâtries to shake out his head, to clear the fogâbut youâre still there. Youâre everywhere. In his lungs, in his bloodstream, in the hammering pulse between his legs thatâs turned thick and insistent, every beat a reminder of the biology thatâs stronger than reason, stronger than his control.
Then the sound happens. Not through the door this timeâinside his skull.
KaiâŚ
Soft. Drawn out. Distressingly imploring. He knows you didnât say it. He knows heâs imagining it. Has gone crazy from the august heat and your heat. Parched, suffering from a wretched thirst that only you can quench. But the hallucination feels real enough to make his legs weaken, forcing his knees to bend as he almost falls forward, buckling. Heâs going insane. His scent glands pulse onceâtwiceâa fire brand under his jaw, the base of his throat hurting from the phantom ache of a bond he doesnât have and has no right to crave. Heâs never been this close to an omega in heat before, not when itâs real, not when itâs you, and itâs wrecking his mind, stabbing holes through his restraint, the tattered remains of his willpower.
Please donât make me do this. The thought scrapes through his mind, tragically raw, coming straight from his chest. Please. Not like this.
But then another voice rises beneath it, lower, crueler. One that sounds exactly like him when he isnât pretending to be good: She needs you. You know she does. No one else can touch her like you would. Biology wants you to claim her as yours. Sheâs already choosing youâcanât you smell it? Thatâs your omega.
He shakes his head hard, palms pressing to the door as if he could transfer the thoughts out of his mind, pushing them into the old splinter-filled wood. âStop,â he mutters, not knowing if heâs talking to you, himself, or the animal inside him thatâs starting to pace, trying to rattle the bars in its cage. His shoulders jerk with a tremor he canât suppress.
His scent glands pulse again, sharper this time. Instinct says: release your scent back, show her your answer, own her, claim her. He grits his teeth until his jaw aches, fighting the urge to let anything slip. The air burns when he exhales; itâs gone thick with you. Sweet salt-musk clings to his teeth when he breathes through his mouth. The scent coats the back of his throat again, denser now. His tongue flicks against it before he catches himself, and he makes the taste coat his lips before the shame hits him like a punch. Youâre tasting her air, you fucking pervert!
Your saccharine tantalizing phantom voice folds through his skull againâKai, pleaseâand something inside him cracks down the middle. His vision goes white for a beat, then turns red around the edges. The sound isnât real, but his body doesnât care. Every nerve sings mine while his mind screams: Donât. You canât.
This doesnât make any fucking sense.
He needs pain, needs to feel somethingâanythingâanything that isnât this. Anything that can distract him and clear his mind. Even if only temporarily.
His left fist slams into the wall once, twice, the hollow thud echoing down the corridor. Pale drywall dust powders his knuckles as the sting floods his senses. For one dizzy second it helps. Then it doesnât. The ache blooms wider, deeper, twining with the same pulse thatâs still throbbing low in his hips.
âGet a grip,â he growls, his voice a rasping guttural sound coming straight from the back of his throat. âSheâs fine. Sheâs safe. She doesnât need you.â The words scrape out hoarse, unconvincing, meant more for the feral thing inside him than for the version of him that still understands reason.
From inside, he hears a sharp inhale, his ears instantly prickling towards the sound. His scent glands flare again in answer towards the noise, betraying himâsearing hot beneath the skin, threatening to release an explosion of thick hungry scent that reflects his arousal.
His chest locks, you heard him; he presses the heel of his palm against his own throat, trying to trap it, to keep from letting anything slip into the air. The motion leaves a smear of grayish porcelain dust across his chin and jaw. Donât you dare scent. Donât you dare let her smell you like this. You probably already scared her by punching the wall you fucking asshole.
He drops to his knees, the motion graceless, hitting carpet hard enough to bruise. The breath he drags in rattles through his body. He bows forward towards you, forehead brushing the lower half of the door, shoulders shaking as he hisses through clenched teeth, âIâm not that kind of alpha. Iâm not like them.â
The words break apart halfway through, swallowed by the rough sound that follows, a strangled noise somewhere between a high pitched laugh and a keening sob. He presses both fists against his thighs, flattening them down until the veins stand out along his forearms. The pain is grounding, or at least, itâs supposed to be grounding. But his body wonât listen. His scent still wants to rise, wants to reach you, wants to tell you that youâre not alone, Iâm right here, even if that would ruin everything.
How can this possibly be? How can he be in this situation right now? How does it even exist? Does anything about this even make sense?
He thinks about standing. About walking away. The parking lot is a dozen steps away. He could be down the stairs in three seconds, reach the car in another twenty steps. But the thought of distance makes his stomach twist. His pulse spikes with something too close to panic. What if you call for him and he isnât here? What if you stop making noises altogether? What if your scent spills thicker over the entire property, drawing hungry alphas right up to your door?
He presses his forehead harder to the wood, eyes burning, breathing shallowly. Protecting and mating instincts blurring into one command pulsing through every cell: stay.
His voice comes out raw, barely audible. âPlease,â he whispers, he doesnât even know to whom, âJust let me hold it together.â
And then from inside the roomâsoft, wet, unmistakableâyour moan unfurls, long yet stifled, lassoing around his gut, pulling him towards you.
His entire body goes still.
Apparently, his outburst outside the door hadnât affected you too much if youâre able to go right back⌠to that.
He instantly stops pretending that he isnât listening.
At first, he was only half-listening through one ear with his main focus on standing guard because the silence between your noises terrifies him. Because when you go quiet, it feels like his heart stops too. But now, now itâs become something else. He canât even pretend anymore. Lying to himself that heâs doing it for some moral righteous safety reason, like out of concern for your wellbeing.
The quiet isnât quiet at all. Thereâs movement under it: the whisper of skin against rustling sheets, the slow drag of your soft breaths getting caught and held, the smallest wet catch of sound that makes his pulse stutter and drum at each wrist. Each one lands like a hammering thud against his eardrum, and he leans in closer before he can think better of it. Sometimes you sound much nearer to him than you should be, and he wonders if you get up from the bed, tiptoeing to stand on the other side of the door, mere inches away from him.
Heâs crouched now, ear towards the seam of the door, cheek and jaw pressed against the cool peeling paint. His palms are flat against the frame, fingers curved around it, anchoring him there. Every sound you make seems to come straight through the aging wood and directly into him, slinking right under his skin. The air is dense, saturated with your scent crowding it, wading deep into his sinuses until itâs all he can smell. The sweetness is almost completely gone; itâs darker nowâwarm bodied arousal, lushly ripe, edged with something animalistic and raw. It makes him dizzy.
The noises sharpen. The rapid, slick rhythm of your fingers. The light thud of the bed frame scraping against the carpet and rocking into the wall behind it as you shift your hips. Then a broken, bitten-off moan that sounds like a plea. His jaw locks; the muscles in his forearm twitch as if heâs bracing for impact. His breath comes in shallow, silent bursts; he doesnât dare make a sound. His tongue flicks against the back of his teeth, tasting the syrupy oud heavy rose-vanilla in the air. He keeps inhaling deeply, trying to taste you secondhand on his tongue, in his mouth, since he canât taste directly from the source. He doesnât pull away from the door.
Heâs shaking now, almost vibrating from tension, from the way his body keeps trying to move closer, even though he canât with the door being the literal physical barrier between you and him. The part of him thatâs still civilized whispers stop, stop, stop, but the rest of himâevery raw, untrained, unprincipled bit of himâis attuned to your frequency. Your scent, your voice, the twists of your writhing body, the sticky sounds of your fingers moving faster. It rewires him in real time.
You gasp again, louder, a breath that trembles on its way out, and the image forms in his head before he can fight it: your lips parted, lashes wet, throat arched. Your leggings hanging off of a twitching ankle. He bites the inside of his left cheek until he tastes blood, but the iron on his tongue doesnât break the spell, not when itâs still mixed with your sweetness. His pupils feel dilated too wide, his heartbeat too thundering, and he knows that whatever imaginary line he thought he would never cross had disappeared from his mind the second he knelt here like a sinner praying before an altar begging for salvation.
He drags one hand back from the door, stares at it trembling, as his fingers clench and unclench into his palm, his nails biting into it, then presses his knuckles against his mouth to keep from groaning. Heâs well past reason.
He knows it. Heâs listening to you fall apart through a motel door, and every sound is breaking something decent and righteous in him that he might never get back.
And still, he leans in closer. Does it even make sense? Nothing makes sense. What is he doing?
Heâs already halfway gone, decided heâs destined for hell and damnation, when he hears your voice.
It isnât even a word this time; just a whimper shaped like his name, breathily high, tenderly soft, and achingly helpless, but it tears through the thin shields of his restraint like a letter opener slicing through thick cardstock. His body moves before he does. His hand easily finds the key card from where itâs tucked inside his wallet he had put into the right front pocket of his joggers, hectically trying to hurry as his thumb worries the cool plastic until the sharp edges bite into his skin. The sting feels distant. Itâs almost funny how quickly and smoothly the door will open when heâs spent the last half hour trying to keep himself from opening it.
He hesitates for the length of one heartbeat. Donât. She didnât ask. You donât even haveâ
The thought stumbles on itself, fragments. Condoms.
He doesnât even have fucking condoms.
He almost laughs at the absurdity of it, because if he thinks about logistics now, heâll lose whatâs left of his mind. The sound that leaves him is half snarl, half whine. No. He canât think about that irksome problem right now.
Iâll cross that bridge when I get to it.
The key slides into the reader smoothly, the door clicking open with a soft metallic sound that is so loud and harsh in Kaiâs eardrums that it might as well have been thunder rippling through the sky. The lock gives, and the thick viscous air of the room rushes out to meet him, wrapping around him in welcome.
Your heat hits firstâwet, perfumed, living heatâand his knees nearly give out from it. The entire room smells like you: slick sharp citrus-tinged sugar and salt, rose florals turned fragrant and oud-heavy, molten tonka-vanilla sweetness turned dark and animalistic. It coats his entire tongue, his teeth, his gums, the back of his throat, brushing against his tonsils. His chest expands from a choking gasp that sounds too much like a sigh of relief.
He steps in and the world shrinks to dim darkness thatâs only broken by the amber lamplight coming from the far nightstand and the sound of your breathing. All the curtains are drawn, making the motel room even more so into its own private ecosystem. All of the bags are a mess, fallen over and half open as though you had hurriedly rippled through their contents looking for things to create a makeshift nest with.
Youâre sprawled across the bed, legs dangling off the side still covered in heather gray leggings that are hanging low on your hips, revealing the expanse of your pelvis while still haphazardly covering your mons. Your loose white T-shirt is rolled up to just below your chest from all of your twisting and turning, exposing the length of your abdomen to Kai. Youâve thrown your athleisure jacket by the pillows, and have some of Kaiâs clothes he had packed for the trip scattered on the surface of the bed, tangled in with the layers of sheets and duvet. Your head is nestled on his leather jacket, nose tucked towards the collar as you mouth at the dark colored interior's silk lining. Your short hair is a mussed mess around you. Your skin is flushed a dull red and shines with sweat. And then, your fingers still between your thighs as Kai shuts the door behind him, slowing as you sense him, eyes glassy with unshed tears and pupils dilated as they find his. The sight burns straight through him as he feels it behind his retinas, in the base of his spine;Â everywhere.
For a single suspended second, everything stills. The slow rickety whirling of the ceiling fan is the only sound except for both of your loud breathing. Blood rushes to his ears, turning them a deep crimson, and he stares at you, biting on his swollen lower lip. He thinks he sees you nod. A confirmation. And then heâs moving. Feet instantly crossing the carpet in huge strides, eating up the distance in between the two of you in a hurry.
His cap is carelessly thrown off his head, hitting the headboard with a rough smack before falling on top of the messy pile of pillows. His pulse is so loud he can hear it in his jaw, feel it ticking like a drum there. He crosses the room in three long strides, stops just short of the bed, fingers flexing uselessly at his sides, the last visual remnants of his restraint before he gives in.
He thinks: Please. Please, Y/N. Please stop me if you donât want me. Tell me to leave. I can no longer hold myself back. Not if you donât tell me to.
You say his name again, louder this time but even more wrecked than you had sounded through the door, desperately pleading.
âKai, please? I want you. I want you to. My fingers arenât enough. Only you are. Only you can,â you babble an explosion of nervous words, anxiety strumming through you while you remain still frozen under his smoldering gaze, still havenât gotten the bravery yet to touch yourself with him watching you discerningly.
And whatever thin thread of decency he had left snaps. The sound that leaves him is a rough hiss as he drops to his knees, a man seeking salvation in the woman he loves. Every cell and nerve in him screaming mine. Sheâs mine.
He still hesitates after he plunges down before you, canât seem to separate fantasy and desire from reality and truth, staring at you from where he is settled on his knees, his face less than two feet away from your center. But heâs not looking at where your fingers are tucked in under the layers of your sweat and slick soaked leggings and panties, heâs staring at your face, his voice rough, his visage trembling as he murmurs, âYeah. Right. Say it. Tell me that you want me. Me, not anyone else. Me. Right now, right at this moment.â
You indulge him, even when you feel like you want to tear out of your skin out of want of relief. You sob, almost breathless, shuddering out words in between desperately gulping for air, âWant you. Need you, Kai. Please? Promise youâre the only one.â
He still seems uncertain, long dark bangs falling into his eyes, as his gaze shifts away from yours to falling to land somewhere around your throat, his eyes lasering in on where your scent glands reside as he quickly demands verbal confirmation from you yet again.Â
âIâm going to go for it. You need to tell me you truly want me. Iâm going to do it. Iâm going to go all the way. You have to say you want me. Want this,â Kai says, almost like itâs a threat. And perhaps it is because if you give him permission heâs not sure he can hold any part of him back. Heâs going to be all in.
He makes you repeat it again and again until your voice turns hoarse, your throat dry and raspy, until you think that you are going to attempt to drag Kai onto you, making the move yourself, so that the message truly sinks in. So that he has no space to think about anything else. Has no physical room for doubts and uncertainty to creep in. You think that once heâs trapped in your embrace, unable to get out unless heâs okay with hurting you to remove himself, he will truly understand that you want him. No. That you need him.
Your right leg twitches, your thighs parting, creating even more space between them as you slowly lift the leg, toes stretching out, attempting to hook your foot around Kai, trying to pull him towards you with your heel digging into the base of his spine. But before you can, his head lifts, messy sable colored hair falling away from his eyes.
He inhales and exhales deeply, his body shuddering lightly as he drags his right hand over his face, fingers pressing into the creamy skin roughly, and then wading into his hair. Pushing his dampening bangs off his face he growls, âGood. Youâre mine now.â
What happens next takes you completely by surprise. You thought Kai would haul your body up, press you against him, bodies touching from chest to chest, stomachs colliding against each other, thighs shoved against each other, as he kissed you for the first time.
You should have known better. This was Kai. When had he ever been predictable? The male remains crouched on the ground, still balanced on his knees, reaching out for you, his arms wrapping around your legs as he pulls your thighs closer to the edge of the bed. And then he just⌠drops his face. Right against your mound. The hard tip of his nose hitting the top of your opening through your clothes, through where the slick had made the leggings stick to the curves and cervices of your pussy like a second skin. He hadnât even peeled your bottoms off, just kept his face buried against you, lips slightly parted as he breathed you in deeply, inhaling the thick heady scent of your heat-driven arousal, the citrus turned tangy, the rose musky, and the vanilla-tonka rich, rounded, and decadent.
He drags in heavy, greedy inhales, like he wants to swallow you whole, nose and mouth rubbing against the damp gray cotton/elastane blend as his chest seems to tremble with intense shuddering breaths.
You can barely stand the scrutiny, starting to squirm, your arousal making your body twitch as another wave of your heat comes on like a tsunami slamming into the coastline. You are reacting to your proximity to an alpha. Your body, which is already agitated from your small pathetically thin fingers that could never mimic the thickness or length of an alphaâs cock, is now in an uproar that it has an alpha available to it for the first time during a heat but canât seem to make proper use of him to enjoy him thoroughly.
You groan, spluttering out a frustrated wail, âKaiii. What are you doing?â as you try to shift underneath him in an attempt to make your hips tilt upward; you need his mouth to connect with the lower part of you.
The male growls, a deep alpha sound of dominance, making you still, your heart pounding as he tightens his hold around you, gripping you even more firmly to eliminate what little wiggle room you had. He grunts muffled words into your mound, his warm breath making your cunt clench and unclench with want, âShut up. I need this. I get to be in control. You want me as your alpha during your heat? Then I get to set the pace. I get to decide everything. Youâre mine now.â
âBut Kai,â you whine, not realizing when to concede, âYouâre supposed to help me.â
Kai snarls even more deeply, the sound reverberating through you, his warm breath wafting over your mound, making you shudder, âYouâre not just a fuck to me, Y/N let me get my bearings first.â
You attempt to lift yourself up on an elbow, trying to look down at him, âYou need to breathe me in to get your âbearingsâ?â
âYes,â hisses Kai, his tone reproaching, a little bit confused as to why youâre not submitting easily to him as an omega, âI want to smell you properly. Or have I had the opportunity to previously do that to my heartâs content some other time in the past six years, Y/N?â
You stifle a gasp, your cheeks suddenly burning from all the blood that rushes to your face. Okay fair enough. You two are way past the point where Kai will let you pretend that you didnât have some inkling of his attraction towards you. But are you just meant to lie here doing nothing while he smelled you? He wasnât even scenting you or lapping at your folds. He was just⌠breathing you in. You look at your hands that are both free, gripping nothing. Touching nothing. When thereâs over six feet of warm sexy alpha wrapped around your bottom half. Your hand, the one that has been buried in your leggings reaches out to wrap your fingers around Kaiâs messy black hair, when the male suddenly moves, scaring you. His hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
The two of you stare into each other, you are looking down at him breathlessly as he has his head tilted up in reverence, his eyes so dilated you can barely even make out the chocolate brown of his irises at the edge of his pupils. For a moment nothing happens, you two are frozen in time unable to let your eyes break away from each otherâs, and then the male surges up, hectically digging a knee into the mattress as he moves his hand to the small of your back to quickly haul you into an upright position before drawing you against him, his left arm a thick steel band across your back, pressing your breasts and soft tummy into his solid chest and rock hard abdominal muscles. His right hand caresses the back of your neck, pianist fingers so big and long that his thumb can easily stroke the underside of your jaw, at your scent glands, while the rest of the digits work to title your head up so that you can meet his firm lips in a hungry kiss full of desperation.
It's messy. Itâs six years of wanting and longing wrapped into one frantic kiss full of teeth knocking into each other, lips pressing hard enough into each other to bruise. Kai breaks away for a second, resting his damp forehead against yours, laughing lightly like he canât believe this is his life. It reminds you that under all those layers of alpha, heâs still just your Kai, the man who never scared you for a moment in university. Who never gave any hint that he would be an alpha.
His dark bangs, in clumped up sections from his sweat, tinkle your eyelids; your lips, in turn, part as you make a sound of displeasure. Kai immediately rushes to take advantage of that, diving back in, his lips slotting over yours, his tongue thrusting between the opening you had created, hungrily licking inside your mouth, wanting to lap up every taste of you.
Itâs a good kiss⌠Actually, itâs a great kiss. But you canât help but whimper, frustrated, this is not what you need right now. You need him inside you. You need him furiously pounding into you and knotting you up good and proper. Kissingâkissing is meant for when your heat is more manageable. When the fervor hasnât gotten you all twisted up inside, when you donât feel like you want to rip out of your skin, when you can take things slower and actually enjoy it.
But right now, now, you need to be taken hard and breeded. You whimper into him, tugging at his shirt, your words are muffled against his lips. âKai, please, not thisâI needââ
He freezes for half a heartbeat, clearly taken aback. He then seems to regroup, appearing to choose to ignore you, trying to distract you with kisses peppered against your jaw and throat, wet kisses full of sharp nipping teeth where he eagerly sucks at your skin, drawing it into his mouth, biting lightly before letting it free. He laves at your scent glands, tongue massaging circles before he nibbles lightly. Heâs not trying to break skin, he just wants to stimulate your glands, so you are ready to be scented. Once heâs sure youâre properly scented and you seem to purr, he pulls back, just enough to look at you, pupils remaining blown wide and almost entirely black, his reddened lips swollen and wet from the kisses.
âI should have done that this morning,â he grumbles, pouting, âYouâve been outside all day smelling of your heat, of sin, and no alpha. Itâs like you have a penchant for danger. So irresponsible,â he tsks. âYou need an alpha to take care of you.â
You frown, eyebrows drawing together, brattily retorting, âThis alpha isnât giving me what I need.â
Kai quells anything else you mightâve said, trapping you under his gaze as his head tilts to the side menacingly and his tongue darts out to lick the corner of his mouth. His chest rumbles as he speaks, low voice dark and certain.
âYouâll take what I give you. I know what you need.â
With those words, he immediately flips you on your stomach, your face smooshing against his leather jacket that was lying by your head on the bed. As you try to twist to look back at him, he threads his fingers around your hair, his palm resting slightly on your nape to keep your head in place.
âStay,â he barks out an order, the authority in his voice sending a shiver down your spine and another rush of slick cascading down your thighs.
His other hand strokes your body, running along your shoulders, fingers tap-dancing down your spine then going back up to stroke the side of your body, cup your breasts, grasp your waist, squeeze your hips and ass. He does it once, twice.
The third time, his hand grabs your hip more firmly to pull it towards him until your ass is in the air, your knees bending while your chest and head remain flat against the mattress. You think heâs preparing you so that he can take you like this from behind. You donât⌠mind it. But if he had asked you for your opinion, you wouldâve told him that you wanted to look at him during your first time together. A little painful knot of hurt builds in your chest, making your ribs hurt.
His hand gropes at the curve of your ass, squeezing both cheeks, fingers briefly tucking in between your parted thighs to stroke a line from your clit to your asshole. You stiffen and try to hide a sniffle, but Kai hears it anyways, his hand stilling.
âY/N?â he asks gently, his grip loosening around your nape, the rough finger pads of his other hand softly stroking your hip, âWhatâs wrong, princess?â
You shake your head. You canât speak. This is so embarrassing. Why are you being so sensitive right now? Is it because you finally opened yourself to the vulnerability of spending your heat with an alpha and now, he wants to take you from behind like youâre nothingâlike youâre just a piece of meat. Of easy omega. And worst of all, itâs Kai. Your Kai. The only alpha you thought might be different.
Kai settles on the mattress beside you, lying down on your left side, in response, you sniff and turn up your nose, moving your head to look to the right. He sighs, âShould I go lie on the other side then? To make you look at me?â
âI donât want you like this,â you mutter into the collar of his jacket, the leather bunching up under your clenched fist. Â
For a long moment, thereâs silence. He doesnât move. Doesnât say anything. After a while you begin to feel restless; the air is frozen after your rejection and the male beside you is so still that you donât even know if heâs still breathing. You move slowly, shifting in tiny increments until youâve rolled onto your back and youâre looking at him.
Youâre surprised to see that heâs not glancing back at you. His eyes are shut, his beautiful long black eyelashes brushing against the hollowed skin under his eyes thatâs darker than the pale porcelain which covers the rest of his face. Heâs pinching the bridge of his nose between his right handâs index finger and thumb.
âKai?â you ask. Nothing. No reaction. You inch closer to him, the mattress squeaking underneath the two of you. âKaii?â
Still nothing. You collapse on top of him, your face burrowing into the side of his neck. And yet even then he doesnât move. Doesnât push you off. Doesnât reposition you so that you two are more comfortable.
âKai? Why arenât you saying anything?â
At that he scoffs, letting out a breathy sound. His laughter rings hollow. His voice is raspy when he answers, âWhat am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to beg you, Y/N? I am not that kind of alpha. Iâm not going to needle you until youâre worn down and finally give in. You know how I feel. I want you. Iâve always wanted you. What am I supposed to do when you change your mind every five minutes? I canât be with you like that. Youâre⌠youâre everything to me. Iâm in love with you. I donât know what to do with you when youâre hot and cold. I donât want to offend you. I donât want to accidentally do something that youâre not okay with.â
Your frown deepens, and when you part your dry lips to dampen them, you realize your face is burrowed into Kaiâs scent glands. How did he misunderstand your words so badly? You should be more direct. More clear. But first you need to show him that you hadnât been rejecting him. Hadnât changed your mind. You just didnât want your first time with him to be so impersonal.
You nose the delicate skin of his scent glands. Kai swallows roughly but otherwise ignores you. Itâs only when you part your lips to lightly lap at his throat that he moves, his hands wrapping around your upper arms like he wants to throw you off of himself.
âY/N you canât,â he pleads desperately, growling in frustration, head shaking as he tries to move sweat-damp locks of hair out of his face without loosening the grip he has on you.
âWhy canât I?â you ask. You stop trying to lick his skin, to lap up his salt bourbon taste, but youâre pressing hard closed-lipped kisses on his jaw, the underside of it, his chin, and all along his throat. He swallows when you kiss his Adamâs apple with even more pressure and then dart your tongue against the prominent mole on the side of his neck before going back to give his scent glands all of your attention.
âWhy are you even scenting me after you rejected me?â he grumbles in frustration. âYou are the most vexing omega I know.â
âI am the only omega you know, and I didnât reject you,â you remind him before giving him a particularly wet kiss under his right ear. âNow let me lick the mole on your neck again.â
âNo,â Kai shoots you down immediately, âAnd yes you did, Y/N. What does âI donât want youâ mean to you then? Do those words mean something different to omegas then?â
You sputter, in outrage, clearly offended,âI said âI donât want you like this.â And I stand by that.â
âLike what?â complains Kai, his hands have come away from your arms. Heâs no longer holding you back; theyâre resting slightly on the small of your back, long fingers lightly threaded together. And heâs basically given up on making you stop scenting him, as you go at him like a cat grooming her male: licking, kissing, biting.
âFace down and impersonal, you asshole? Do you think you hold the monopoly on being in love? Newsflash: Iâm in love with you too! And I didnât want to be face down on a mattress while you pound into me from behind during our first time having sex.â
Kai stills, you think he might be red with embarrassment if the skin thatâs suddenly scalding hot under your lips is any indication. How cute. But still, deserved.
âI wasnât,â he stutters, sheepish all of a sudden, dark hair falling over his eyes as he shuts them briefly, âI wasnât going to have sex with you Y/N.â
âAt all? Rude. Why are you even here then, Kai?â
You think heâs rolling his eyes; youâve stopped looking at him, going back to give most of your divided attention to his scent glands. He unthreads his hands, letting one stroke your back, going from the top of your shoulders to your ass in a smooth repetitive motion. Itâs wildly comforting and you mewl, rubbing your face into his scent glands even more thoroughly.
âNot âat all.â At that moment. I was going to spank you.â He rubs his face with his other hand roughly, feeling his cheeks heat up, turning a mottled red color, âGod this is so embarrassing. Do you think heats are always this awkward and full of misunderstandings?â
Now youâre the one who stills. He was going to spank you? You ignore the part of you that feels thrilled about that idea and try to hold onto your indignation from earlier. You sniff, turning your nose up, âI havenât done anything to deserve getting spanked.â
âYou absolutely have,â Kai refutes you almost immediately, his chin pressing into your silky hair.
âName one reason.â
Kai cackles, his chest shaking underneath you, âI could give you a million. But to start, youâre a fucking tease. You do things and then run away because you think my willpower and my morals are stronger than my alpha instincts. You will purposefully bend over in front of me in an impossibly tight skirt at work and then skip back to your office because you know I have too much propriety to take you on top of the copy machine like the animal I feel like inside. And donât even get me started on what you were like in college. I have six years of grievances against you. So yeah, I was going to fucking spank you.â
You scoff, sneering, biting at his glands, not rough enough to break the skin, âThen do it. Do it Kai. Fucking do it. I dare you to do it. No⌠Iâm giving you permission to do it. You have my full consent. Do it Kai. But if you put your fucking cock inside of me and we are not making eye contact,â you take a pause to sigh, âLetâs just say you do not want to see that side of me Kai Huening.â
âYeah?â Kai mumbles into your hair, letting his nose nudge your scalp, bending his neck until he can properly kiss the crown of your head.
âYeah,â you confirm lightly.
âI have a lot to get out, and I might be taking it out on you,â he murmurs, sighing like itâs this ordeal he has to get through before he can give you tender, indulgent heat sex where he tends to your every need and every whim.
âThatâs fine,â you agree, just wanting him to get a move on to the main event. Why is he edging you like you arenât actively dying from lust and arousal right now? âThat way my heat can be cathartic to both of us.â
âI might be a little mean,â admits Kai, his hands briefly tightening on either side of your waist and he holds you towards him, âI have⌠a lot of built-up resentment towards you that I never got to work out before.â
âDo you hate me?â you ask, worrying your lower lip with your teeth. You donât think you can have sex with someone who hates you. Even if youâre head over heels for him. You have that much self-respect for yourself at least.
Kai immediately protests, âY/N, I love you. Hate you? Iâve never hated you. Even when I thought you would never give me the time of day. I just⌠was annoyed at you sometimes⌠okay, a lot of times.â
âSo then⌠itâs just an alpha punishing his omega,â you say matter-of-factly. You decide to take it at face value.
Kai, pauses, tilting his head as he considers it, he moves one of his hands until he can rub his chest, like heâs attempting to massage his heart, âYeah. Itâs this alpha punishing his omega.â
âAnd no mating bonds,â you try to confirm. Thatâs your only hard limit for this heat.
âI had a strict timeline planned for our relationship and no, mating you does not happen before Iâve even taken you out on a date. You have nothing to worry about, darling. You can trust me,â Kai admits, his hand shaking out his bangs and then pushing them away from his forehead.
Your brows furrow, as you consider his words, youâll have to ask him about his relationship timeline for you two later. But right now, youâre feeling your heat creep back in again; the need in your groin has you almost doubling over, âThen weâre good. Spank me or whatever. Have your temper tantrum. Whatever makes you feel better,â you shrug nonchalantly.
Kaiâs eyes narrow, âJust for that Iâm adding five extra spanks,â he says, before flipping you two so that heâs on top of you. You two stay like that for a moment as his face seeks your scent glands again. He scents you more hungrily and desperately this time, citrus and vanilla tonka mixing with peachy smoke-filled bourbon, his teeth almost painful when they track their way across the delicate skin of your neck.
When heâs satisfied, he brushes one last kiss across your scent glands before he puts you back into the position he had you in earlier.
âBefore we start, I have a question, princess,â Kai admits, his hand splayed across your ass. You twist around to look at him, blinking in confusion, âHow the hell are you so calm right now and not tearing your clothes off in heat driven desperation?â
âItâs because Iâm more mature than you,â you nod, your eyes crinkling with glee,âI have greater restraint and control over my body.â
âYeah. Right,â Kai hums, looking unimpressed, his nose scrunching at you and the dimple on left side making a rare appearance, âSure.â
âYouâll be surprised at how quickly the lust goes away when Iâm sad,â you admit more truthfully. At that Kaiâs face softens in apology. He bends down to kiss you softly, languidly, until youâre writhing underneath him.
âReady, Y/N?â he asks gently, the words being uttered against your lips. You nod enthusiastically. âOkay, then. Mean alpha Kai is going to come out, princess.â
âOkay, alpha.â Hearing you call him alpha makes something settle in Kai as his shoulders widen and his spine straightens. An arrogant wave of easy confidence takes over his body as he props your ass in the air, in the perfect position to be spanked, not even removing your ruined gray leggings.
You turn back to face the mahogany headboard, clutching his jacket like a lifesaver, holding your breath in anticipation of the first spank. The hit comes harder than you expected, making you gasp breathlessly as Kai massages the hurt cheek, âThatâs for ghosting me for two years.â
Then comes the next spank, harder on the other cheek, making you hiss, your eyes prickling hot. He gropes it too, working the pain into your flesh with his thumb rubbing it in circles, âThatâs for avoiding me at work whenever you could get away with it.â
Then the third, sharply cracking across your ass. âThis is for making me wait six years to have you when we couldâve been enjoying each other from the very beginning,â Kai grunts.
After the fifth spank, you are practically humping the mattress, slick dripping down your folds, hips jerking into the bedsheets as you frantically seek friction. Kai grips the back of your skull, his fingers knotting into your hair as he pulls you backwards, your back curving into a sharp arch, your eyes watering from the pain-pleasure. He chuckles darkly, as he moves his hand to grip your chin, making you look at him, âCrying for me already, Y/N? Youâre about to cry a whole lot more soon, princess.â
The next moment he shoves you back into the mattress, your head almost bouncing off of it, as you stare up at him, sprawled haphazardly on the mattress. He roughly shoves your T-shirt up above your chest, the white sweat-soaked fabric bunching underneath your armpits. He stills, eyebrows furrowing, forehead wrinkling as he stares at you with deep-seated hunger, eyes gone completely black from lust. His hard black-brown eyes track the way your chest heaves in the black lace balconette bra. The underwire has your breasts shoved up so high, giving you so much cleavage, it looks almost obscene. The fabric of the bra is cut so low that the diamond hard points of your nipples are almost slipping free under Kaiâs heated gaze. And thereâs no padding. The bra is just unlined, see through, black lace because your breasts didnât need the extra coverage.
Kaiâs breath catches, stuttering in disbelief; he blinks rapidly, once, twice, like he canât seem to comprehend what heâs looking at. He blinks a third time, as though he is trying to clear his mind, a growl rumbling out of him before he can stop it. âWhat the fuck is this? I canât believe you. This doesnât make any fucking sense.â
Your face burns, as you look away from him, avoiding eye contact, âItâs a bra, Kai. Donât act like youâve never seen one before.â
âNot like this.â His gaze is glued to your chest, hungry, furious, impassioned. âThis isnât underwear, this isââ His hand pinches the delicate lace of one of the cups between his fingers, pulling the fabric away from a nipple, tugging hard enough that the thin black straps of the garment dig into your shoulders.
âThis is what youâve been wearing under your clothes all day? This is what was underneath your T-shirt as you sat in the car next to me for hours? Were you planning on seducing me tonight? How can this exist? What is my life?â He shakes his head in disbelief. He canât seem to stop his hand from reaching out, his fingers snagging on the bow bisecting your chest, plucking at it, watching how your breasts bounce when he lets it go.
You flush, redness crawling from your chest that warms under his close examination to your ears. You bite back, voice sharp with denial. âI grabbed the first matching set I saw, okay? It doesnât even make sense to wear this under a T-shirt!â
Kai sneers as if he doesnât buy your excuse, all of his straight teeth showing. He barks out a humorless laugh, roughly guttural, âYeah, right. Then why are you wearing it?â
You sputter, what is wrong with him? Why is he hassling you instead of appreciating the view? âI wouldâve grabbed a T-shirt bra if I didnât have to wake up so early to meet you! I was sleep deprived! I obviously wasnât thinking straight. I just grabbed the first matching set I saw!â
Your voice spikes, going high and shrill, âBecause it was there and it was convenient.â
Kai scoffs again, making a noise of derision, but when he speaks his voice shakes, going higher at the end too, âMatching? What do you meanâmatching?â
He can barely get his words out, his hands eagerly grabbing at the thick fabric of your leggings as he violently shoves them down your hips, dragging them down to your calves as quickly as he can manage with how slick-soaked and tight the unforgiving gray fabric is.
Once the leggings are down as low as his patience could manage, heâs staring at you again, his breath catching, as he takes in the soaked black lace that was glistening from your slick and clinging to your folds, revealing the lewd shape of your pussy to him.
Youâre wearing a thongâthin straps disappearing into the roundness of your hips and the curve of your ass, barely-there lace showing the shadowed skin of your mound thatâs been waxed hairless and smooth, and the tiny bow just above the swell of your ass. A bow that matches the one in between your tits. A tiny black bow begging to be bitten. His vision whites out for a second. He canât think of anything through the thick haze of lust he feels.
âA thong?â His voice is a furious snarl. âWith a bow? You wore this to ruin me,â he accuses you, pouty, full of righteous indignation, sounding as though he thinks you kept him from seeing you in your underwear until now intentionally.
You squirm under his gaze, babbling your excuse, âI had to wear a thong! I didnât want you or anyone else to see panty lines. And anyways⌠Thatâsâthatâs just the first set I saw that was near me,â you stammer, feeling defensive. âIf I knew I was going into my heat, Iâd be in cotton briefs. Do you know how impractical a thong is for copious amounts of slick? It kept sliding between my folds, twisting into dental floss.â
Your glare was defiant even as your body arched under him. âYou think I planned this?â
His laugh this time is animalistic, taking on a feral edge full of disbelief as he shakes his head, his long pianist fingers plucking at the little bow, letting it snap back against your ass like heâs seconds away from tearing it off with his mouth.
His smirk is devilish, as his index finger strokes over the bow, unable to stop himself, with darkened eyes he murmured, âPanty lines. You expect me to believe this was about panty lines? No,â he seems to decide, âYou wore this to feel powerful. You knew it would torment me once I found out, princess. Youâre incorrigible like that. A fucking menace.â
He settles on top of you, his mouth finding your scent glands with frightening precision, lips parting against them in desperation as though scenting you only moments ago wasnât enough. Like he needs you to smell like him againâyour heady vanilla rose scent of arousal mixing with his cedarwood bourbon musk.
When he moves to your collarbones, the first suck is hard enough to make you jerk, a deep bruise forming beneath the lace edge of your bra strap. He doesnât stop, just sucks harder and then drags his teeth across the swollen patch, pulling a sound from you thatâs half desperate gasp, half maddened whine.
Your hands push at his shoulders, weak, trembling, not strong enough to push him away, to stop the overstimulation. âKaiââ
He cuts you off with a growl, not pulling back. âQuiet.â he snarls against your skin, the sound vibrating down your spine. His tongue circles the bruise, hot and wet, sealing his claim without him sinking his teeth in.
He doesnât stop with one harsh suck to your glands. He lingers, dragging his mouth across the vulnerable column of your throat, lips and teeth leaving a trail of marks that dot your scent glands in bruised purplish ink blots. By the time he finally lifts his head, your pulse is racing, and your breath is ragged, your spit slickened lips parted around a whimper.
Six years, he thinks savagely. Six years, and she is finally mine.
When he finally moves down, everywhere from the underside of your jaw to the curves of your dĂŠcolletage is mottled with blooming wine colored stains, and your pulse is racing. Your scent can barely be distinguished as separate from his. You smell like fruit floral. Woody vanilla tonka. Boozy citrus. All mixed together in a tantalizing cocktail.
Kai heatedly runs his hands up the sides of your waist, his palms roughly brushing against your ribs, hands tracing the curves of your body as he squeezes his way until he reaches your chest. He grabs your tits in both hands, kneading at them, thumbs circling over your peaked nipples, fingers plucking at them until theyâre throbbing to the point of painful. He presses his face to your chest, his mouth dropping over one of the lace cups of your bra, tongue tracing the scalloped lace edging of your bra, lips dragging across the thin barrier before closing around your nipple. His cheeks hollow as he sucks a long dragging pull, tongue lapping at the hard bud of your nipple with tiny kitten licks. Then he closes his teeth over your nipple through the thin fabric, biting just hard enough to sting before sucking, wet heat seeping through the lace.
You gasp as he bites through the fabric, a sharp sting followed by a long, sucking pull that makes the lace damp and cling tighter, your body arching as your back bends like a bow, hips jerking off the bed restlessly, thighs rubbing together in seeking reliefâseeking friction. He presses you down with one big hand against your tummy, pinning you in place, humming against you, amused at how reactive you are.
âSo fucking sensitive,â he mutters against the bra, his words muffled and foreboding. He clamps his mouth over the other nipple, biting harder this time, then soothes it with a languid suck, grinning when you cry out. His light stubble, that had slowly appeared over the course of the day, scrapes over the tiny holes in the lace until your breasts ache. He then alternates, moving from one nipple to the other, biting, licking, sucking until the lace is soaked and your back remains continuously arched, helplessly.
He stays there for a long time, dragging it out, switching ceaselessly between your two breasts, dedicatedly giving them both attention until your nipples are a matching tender and stiff mess. When he finally lifts his head, pulling back just far enough to sneer down at you, his lips a swollen glistening shade between scarlet and magenta, breathing heavily.
Heâs staring at you like he could devour you whole, looking gleeful and devilish as one large hand slips beneath the cups, fingers curling around the hard underwire before pulling at them roughly until the lace is bunched beneath your breasts, pushing your tits up even higher than the balconette already had them. The wire digs into your ribs, but Kai looks reverent.
âBetter,â he mumbles, sounding almost delirious. âI want all of you.â
And then he dives back in.
His mouth is directly on your flesh this time, tongue sliding in broad strokes across the swell of one of your breasts, firm lips closing hot and wet around your too sensitive nipple. He suckles until your chest jerks, until you cry out. Itâs only then that he bites down, sharp enough to sting, before soothing the peak with his tongue again. He drags saliva over the stiffened points, smearing it with his mouth, his jaw working hard as he alternates from one nipple to the other, relentless, sucking deep as if heâs trying to make something come out from them.
Your hands claw at his shoulders, his hair, baby blue nails scratching distractedly, but he pins your wrists over your head against one massive hand, keeping you still, making your body remain in that arched position that shoves your tits conveniently into his face while he feasts. His nose nuzzles into the soft swells of your chest as he murmurs between licks, half-gone already:
âSo fucking perfect. Been waiting to taste you. Canât help but wonder how theyâll taste when theyâre swollen and dripping with milk.â
His thick tongue drags across your bare breast, its rough surface laving saliva over the curve before closing wet lips around your nipple. He suckles hard, pulling a broken sound from your throat, then bites just enough to make your hands try to break free of the hold heâs trapped them in. He ignores your struggling movements, lips dragging to the other breast, giving it the same cyclical treatment of biting, sucking, soothing.
He doesnât stop until your nipples are red, wet and covered in his saliva, engorged from his mouth, until your chest heaves and youâre babbling half-formed protests. As your body twists, shoving your tits even further into his mouth, he bites at them, as the skin, nipping at the areola, nibbling at the nipple, softening the sharp stings with the wet heat of his tongue. He hums against you, pleased, like heâs testing how far he can take it.
âFucking responsive,â he mutters, words hot against spit-dampened skin. âMy perfect omega.â
Kaiâs mouth seals tighter around your breast as he dives back in, tongue pushing flat against the peak before swirling in deliberate circles. Each sweep drags the rough bumps of his taste buds over you, a scrape of texture that makes you whine and keen, making your hips jerk despite yourself.
His hair tumbles messily across your chest, thick black strands sticking to the sheen of his spit thatâs mixed with your perspiration. The sensation is maddeningâticklish and overwhelmingâand when he nibbles, tugging the bud between his teeth, the sting makes your toes curl.
He hums low, vibrations buzzing through your flesh, while his tongue lashes relentlessly. Suck, tug, swirl. He drags you through every rhythm he knows, his nose still buried into the soft swell as if inhaling your scent in deep even while his mouth works.
You gasp again, hips shifting restlessly, but he only presses you harder into the mattress, keeping you captured there. When he finally lifts his head, his mouth is wet, his lips swollen, and heâs staring at you like heâs not done feasting yet.
As he settles back in though, this time his kisses travel lower, making his dark hair drag over your stomach in silken tickling brushes. His tongue briefly darts into your belly button and then his nose follows, nudging into your navel, as his face moves lower still. And before you can brace yourself, his palms are under your thighs, spreading you wide open. His fingers are long and hard, pressing into your skin as he grips your ass firmly, thumbs pushing outward until youâre splayed indecently for him. His calloused palms shoving your thighs apart, until the lace of your thong cuts into your hips, digs deeper into your folds, and rides up high in between your buttocks. His gaze drops to the dark wet patch clinging to your folds, and his jaw flexes, a vein ticking there.
âYouâre ruining them,â he mutters, his voice sounding a mess, husky and wrecked, âTheyâve been dripping from your slick all day.â
And then his face buries between your legs; his mouth lowering hungrily.
The first drag of his tongue across the lace makes you sob. He doesnât target your clit right awayâheâs crueler than that. His chin digs into the softness of your inner thigh, rough stubble abrading your skin as he pushes closer. He licks slow, deliberate, pressing the flat of his tongue into the seam until it drags your slick across fabric. Thatâs when he closes his mouth over the patch, sucking until the lace clings tighter, until the wetness spreads. His Roman nose is firm against your clit, the high bridge making it easily rub up into it with every breath, forcing tiny sparks of pleasure to dance through you. But he avoids giving it his lipsâhis tongueâproperly, instead letting his mouth press up right against your pussy. Instead, his tongue, thick, wet, demanding, slides up through your folds, lapping up your thick slick, making it drip down his throat as he hums, the sound reverberating right through your core.
You cry out, twitching erratically underneath him. He glances up at you when he hears the sound, eyes blown black, pupils wide with lust. His brown irises are only a thin rim around the darkness, gaze locked on you as if he wants to watch every twitch, every whimper, every flutter of your body.
He doesnât look away from you as his mouth then seals itself around your clit. He sucks deeply, the rigid point of his nose pressing mercilessly into you while the hardness of his chin grinds into your thigh. Heâs dropped his hand from your wrists, instead focusing on grabbing both of your thighs with rough massive palms to keep you pressed firmly against him, opened wide. The scrape of his stubble stings overstimulatingly, pulling gasps out of you even as your hands desperately claw through his hair, your sharp manicured nails scratching at his scalp.
He purrs then, making a throaty sound of pleasure as his grip on your ass tightens, long fingers digging into the meat, dimpling the flesh, palms clenching you harder. He shifts, spreading you wider with those massive hands, digits sinking into your velvet soft skin until youâre aching with how open he holds you. He devours you like thatâtongue circling, teeth grazing, lips dragging hot and wet over your clitâwhile his eyes never break from yours. And itâs all through your panties. He never even moves the gusset of your thong away from your folds.
âFuck,â he breathes against you, sharp and guttural. âFuck, you taste so good even through this. Vanilla and sugar. Rose and syrup.â
He burrows his nose into the soaked lace, inhaling like heâs been starved. Loud, greedy drags of air that rattle his chest. When you squirm, whimpering, he growls low, muffled by fabric, barking out a command, âStay still. I need this. I need you in my lungs.â
One of your hands stays gripping his hair, not knowing if it would be better to pull his head away or to shove his face harder against you. Your other hand twitches at your side, clawing at the sheets, helplessly fisting at them. Tears pool in your eyes from the frustration of being kept on the edge like this before they drip down, trailing down the sides of your face to glide over your kiss-bitten swollen scent glands.
And then he pushes your thighs even higher, almost making your knees dig into your chest as his focus shifts lower. His lips graze the tiny satin bow perched above your ass. He then closes his teeth around it, tugging until it stretches as far as it can go before letting it snap back against your skin with a sharp crack.
You yelp, glaring down at him where heâs nestled between your parted thighs, but the smirk on his mouth is pure, unrepentant smugness.
âYou wore this for me,â he says, his raspy voice sounding darkly pleased, before biting the bow again.
Then his mouth moves to the swell of your ass. His teeth sink in just hard enough to sting, and you squeal, only to then choke on a throaty moan when he soothes the mark with a slow, wet lick. Then he bites the other cheek, harder, alternatingâbite, lick, suck, bite, lick, suckâmarking up your ass with bruising circles reflecting the indentations of his teeth, until your thighs shake and slick trails down them.
By the time he pulls back, his lips are coated with your thick slick mixed with his own saliva. His chest heaves like heâs just sprinted the length of an entire marathon, while his eyes remain that dark color, blown wide, black pupils nearly swallowing the espresso brown irises whole.
âMine,â he mutters, almost to himself, almost a in laugh. âFuck. Youâre driving me insane.â
Kaiâs still breathing heavily when he lets his head drop to rest on your thigh for a bit while he looks up at you with the shiny spit-slicked crimson lips heâs refused to wipe dry. His entire face is tinted pink from exertion and he nuzzles his nose into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, breath shuddering as he inhales your scent greedily. When his gaze drops to your thong, the black soaked lace plastered to your folds, his nostrils flare.
His thick thumb presses into the fabric, slowly dragging itself down the seam with just enough pressure to make your hips twitch and then when he tired of that movement, he lets his fingers dance slowly along the soaked gusset of your thong, finger pads pressing the fabric flush against your folds, dipping into every crevice until the lace clings tighter like a second skin. Squelching sounds accompany every movement of his digits from the sheer amount of slick, making your face burn.
A filthy growl slips out of him. âFuck,â he mutters, low and guttural, âLook at you. Youâre fucking dripping. Youâre ruining your panties. And youâre going to tell me you still need more prep?â His head tilts to the side, his sable colored bangs falling off his face as a humorless smile tugs at his lips, âDonât insult me, princess.â
Your thighs are trembling as a side effect from the relentless attention heâs given your pussy through the lace, the entire thong soaked completely though, no inch of the fabric spared, your whole body wired tight. With a rough flick, he yanks the lacy garment aside. The material peels away from your skin with a sticky sound, strings of slick snapping in the air.
His eyes widened ravenously at that carnal sight. But before you can even catch your breath, two of his fingers sink into you, thick, long, calloused digits going deep into your heat without hesitation, buried to the knuckle in one unrelenting push.
You cry out, back arching off the bed. The stretch is overwhelming, immediate. Thereâs no slow slide, no gentle coaxingâjust the blunt press of his knuckles going in deep as they stretch you wide, your body swallowing his hand in a gush of slickness. He crooks them deliberately, pressing until your hips buck into his waiting face from where he was avidly watching your pussy contracting around his slick appendages. The sound you make breaks you both open; in return, his moan vibrates against your clit, deeper than you can stand.
Kai pulls back just far enough to look at you, chest heaving, lips dripping as he snarls, âThatâs it. Take me. You can take it.â
Your body convulses, thighs trembling as he settles back in again, relentlessly. Mercilessly. His chin digs harder, holding you pinned while his tongue and fingers bluntly dive in, ferociously commanding as they drive you higher. You shatter on his mouth, clenching around his tongue and his accompanying fingers as you sob, every nerve pulled taut until you go limp in his hold.
And still he doesnât let go. His mouth stays greedy, his hands insistent, gripping you open, spread wide for him as if he owns every inch.
When he finally drags himself up, trapping you under his gaze while his chin wet with you, he grins wide, smug and feral. âYouâre dripping, princess. Gonna keep you like this all night.â
You choke on a cry, nails clawing the sheets, as his fingers plunge back into you mere seconds later. He doesnât give you a moment to readjust, as he pumps them in deep, curling hard against your tender walls. One palm roughly grinds into your clit with every thrust, deliberate torture. Your hands claw at the sheets again, desperately searching for purchase, as he pins you down with his other hand, fingers splayed over your ribs, palm covering the top of your abdomen, keeping your body locked in place underneath him.
His smirk is cutting, sharp across his face, it makes him look crueler than he ever has before. His eyes are pitch black circles of a man pushed to his brink. His lips a furious blood-red, his throat a swath of scarlet with pulsing swollen glands emitting the thick cedarwood salt-musk scent of his arousal.
âThatâs it. Take me.â His voice is low, jeering. âYouâve been teasing me for yearsânow you can handle this. Six years,â he bites out, the words breaking between his teeth. âSix years, and you think Iâm going to be gentle now? We have a lot of lost ground to make up on, princess, and not nearly enough time before Monday rolls around.â
Your throat works around a sob. âKaiâpleaseââ
âPlease, what?â His thumb circles your clit once, making your hips jump, then pulls away cruelly just as you chase the pressure. âPlease let you cum? You just came.â His tone is mocking, amused and cruel.
Kai leans in, moving until his mouth is flush against your ear, voice dropping into something devious and smug, âWeâve got hours. Days. Your whole heat. And you think Iâm going to let you burn through it all in one night?â His teeth graze your earlobe before tugging. Heâs playful, deliciously taunting. âNo, baby. Youâre mine until you canât think straight. Weâre not rushing this.â
Another sob wracks through you, your hands grabbing helplessly at his wrist. His thumb circles your clit again, just enough to tease, then stops cold. He curls his fingers without warning, dragging against that spot that makes you jerk like youâve been shocked.
Kai watches your face contort; watches the way your mouth drops wide open in despair. Your slick gushes, wet and hot, and the crude squelch fills the motel room as he pumps his fingers fast, unrelenting, like heâs proving something. His own chest heaves like itâs on fire. He then drags his slick-coated fingers through your cunt, slow, savoring the clench of your walls. In response, your thighs snap around his wrist instinctively, but he just presses his palm harder into your stomach, making sure youâre properly pinned in place. âDonât you dare try to ruin this for me.â
You shake your head frantically, tears blurring your vision, but he only hums low in his chest, curling his fingers again until sparks explode in your stomach. He drags them out slow, leaving you clenching on nothing, then plunges them back in just as hard, making your body buck uncontrollably as slick pours down his wrist in thick waves.
âListen to you,â he mutters, sounding torn between reverence and fury. âGreedy little thing. My omega is drenched for me.â
You sob, writhing madly, hips undulating under his ministrations and his grin sharpens turning feline. He leans over you, his mouth hot against your ear. âYeah, right. I donât think so, princess. Youâll cum when I say so and not a moment before.â
He then pauses, his dark heated eyes tracing their path up and down your body as he gives you a once over. He seems to come to a decision, nodding to himself, âAlright baby⌠come for your alpha.â
The words shatter you. Your body clamps down on his fingers, but he still doesnât let upâdriving them faster, harder, more furiously, until the wet slaps of your slick against his palm are louder than your choked cries. And thenâ
Your orgasm rips through you, once more, this time violent and overwhelming, making you collapse, boneless as thick tears streak down your face. He watches you unravel, ignoring the slick that sprayed across his wrist and forearm, soaking the sheets, dripping on the fabric of his joggers where his cock is visibly straining against it, sprinkling across the lower half of his black T-shirt, right over his abs, marking them as yours.
Kai groans like heâs been punched, pulling his hand out, holding it up to the dim light of the room thatâs semi-shrouded in darkness to see how it glistens before raising it up to meet his mouth. He locks eyes with you, his dark eyes boring into yours before his tongue drags across his fingers in one long, filthy stroke. He groans again, head tilting back, eyes fluttering closed as he sucks on the digits, once, twice, before he reluctantly removes them from the wet heat of his mouth and then smears the mixture of your slick and his saliva, that was coating his appendages, deliberately across your hip and stomach like heâs painting you with it. His pupils remain blown, his voice more guttural than ever.
âToo easy,â he growls, lifting the hand up to his mouth again, after heâs marked you up possessively, licking his glistening fingers clean with long, obscene strokes of his tongue, wrapping his lips around the digits lewdly as he sucks deeply. His chest rises and falls with deep body-wracking shudders like he can barely breathe. His voice is wrecked, dark with hunger. His lips curve into something foreboding, possessive. âIâll ruin you for anyone else. And to think that I havenât even gotten properly started.â
He settles back in again, fingers finding your voracious cunt once more, this time adding a third finger. Your whole body jolts; youâre oversensitive as you frantically try to wriggle away, but he pins you down again, his palm feels light on your tummy, not bruising or painful, but you can feel the power coursing through his veins.
âAlready?â His tone is mocking, almost disbelieving, when he speaks, âYou just came and now youâre almost there again. What are we up to now? Three? Four?â His voice is a low hiss, terrifying. His fingers curl again, unrelenting, drawing out aftershocks until youâre keening.
Your gulp, your throat bobbing as you wail, âKaiâKaiâIââ
His head tilts, dark bangs slipping forward, hiding one eye. He looks at you, unmoved, like youâve just told him an unfunny joke. âYou can do it darling,â he mutters, voice calm and cruel. His fingers slow, grinding in deep, the stretch constant but unbearably controlled. âAnd you will. But not yet.â
He pulls back almost all the way, leaving you clenching around nothing, before sliding back in at a pace thatâs torturous in its deliberation. Each drag scrapes against your walls until you twitch, only for the thrust to stop just shy of the angle that would push you over again. His fingers move in a slow, shifting rhythm into long, teasing drags that press deep but never give you enough to tip over again. Every time your hips chase him, he withdraws, letting you clench around nothing before sliding back in at his own pace.
The obscene squelch of your body sucking him back in fills the silence. Your face burns. You can feel how wet you are, dripping, soaking your thighs, your slick gushing even harder, drenching his hand, getting all over the sheets, soaking into the mattress. A choked sob escapes you. He laughs softly, cruelly amused, and drags his wet fingers up over your mound, smearing you open before sinking them back in.
âFuck, listen to you,â he mumbles, breath hot against your cheek, voice reverent and vicious at once. His wrist is slick and dripping as you gush, pouring your juices over his hand. âSo messy. Youâll never make it through this heat without me. Your insatiable little cunt doesnât even know what it wants. But I do.â
âYou feel that baby?â His thumb brushes over your swollen clit in a lazy circle, just enough to make you buck. âThatâs your body begging. But you donât need another one yet. You need to practice self-control.â
Your pale blue nails rake helplessly down his forearm, and his menacing grin only widens, toothy like a sharkâs. He dips his head, lips moving until theyâre flush against your ear as his warm breath cascades over you, âYou wanted me to help you? Then youâll take what I give you. Nothing more.â
You shake your head frantically, babbling nonsense, but he just hums, low in his chest. His fingers curl again and you seize up, teetering⌠only for his thumb to leave your clit at the last second, denying you.
Yet still somehow, your walls still clamped down tightly around his digits, and you shattered, your thighs shaking as you cried into his leather jacket, the silk interior soaked from your saliva and tears. He grinned, wolfish, watching his fingers disappear further inside of you, âYeah. Thatâs better. Learn to take what I give you. Youâll have to find your pleasure in what I choose to bestow upon you.â
Kaiâs chest is heaving as he takes in deep breaths, meanwhile sweat drips down his temple, long dark hair matted against his forehead. He drags his fingers out of you with a wet sound, leaving you empty, clenching on nothing. He curses under his breath, staring down at your slick-covered thighs and the obscene mess spreading beneath you. His cock is straining painfully against his black joggers, the outline thick, heavy, impossible to ignore. Heâs prepped you enough; you and he both want the same thing. But his brain, in that small part of it where logic still resides, that minuscule part of him that hasnât completely given into his alpha instincts, lust-driven by your heat, reminds him that he doesnât have any condoms. That he didnât pack any condoms because he had zero plans of having sex with anyone this weekend. At a fucking work event. Even you.
âFuck,â he growls, voice jagged, almost breaking. He shouldâve asked the front desk if they sold condoms or something. He fists the front of his pants, squeezing hard like he can force himself to calm. âNo condoms. How the hell am I supposed to survive your heat without splitting you open?â
He doesnât know how heâll react if you tell him you have condoms. Probably jealousy, he thinks bitterly. If he hears you say you had condoms, that you were planning on having sex with Jake or Jay or whoever else, heâs getting them fired and heâs spanking you again until you get it through your head that heâs the only coworker youâre allowed to have sex with. And if he has it his way, he wonât even be just your coworker for long; he'll be your fucking boyfriend.
Your eyes fly wide, at his snarled words. Your lips nervously parting, as youâre panting, still delirious, still heat-drunk, but wanting to soothe him, you blurt out, âIâIâm on birth control.â The words explode out of you in a nervous stammer, words tripping over themselves, desperate as you hurry to get them out before he works himself into a spiral. âItâs fine, Iââ
His head jerks at that, looking at you with terrifyingly ravenous dark eyes His mouth twists, red lips contorting as a bitter laugh breaks out of him. His hand finds the curve of your ass as his palm smacks both of your cheeks in quick succession, sharp enough to make you cry out.
âYou shouldâve told me from the start,â he snarls, spanking you again, harder, his voice cracking with anger and from hurt. âMade me sit outside like an idiot, thinking I couldnât have you. Made me think I had to leave you like this. Made me spend all this time giving you orgasm after orgasm with my mouth. With my fingers. And you let your alpha suffer in the meanwhile. Greedy selfish omega. What do you care that your alphaâs cock is throbbing, his knot swollen to the point of painful while he thinks he canât go inside you. While he decides to be a thoughtful considerate alpha that doesnât take you roughly and breeds you, filling you with enough cum to make you get pregnant with a whole litter. Youâre getting everything you need. Youâre peachy keen.â
Another harsh spank, the sting blooming hot across your tender flesh. You sob into the sheets, wrecked, but he grips your chin, dragging your face up to look at him. His eyes are wild, molten like lava thatâs been burnt over and turned ashy black, as his chest trembles with every breath.
âDo you think that this is a game? Do you think thar I can just sit here with your scent all over me, with your slick everywhere, and not take you? That Iâm some infallible, inhumane perfect alpha capable of such restraint?â His words are harsh, but his voice breaks at the edges, frayed with six years of longing and frustration, âDo you think that I really would have been able to keep myself from breeding you in a situation where there were no contraceptives? Or were you okay with me filling you with my knot? Plugging you up with my cum. Knocking you up?â
He crushes his mouth to yours, a punishing kiss, all teeth and tongue, groaning into you like heâs still furious. His hands are rough, yanking your thong fully down your thighs and flinging it aside.
âFine,â he mutters against your lips, his breath hot and wrecked. âIâm not holding back now.â
âItâs not my fault,â you whine, desperately, running your hands over his back attempting to soothe him, âI told you that you could have sex with me from the beginning.â
At that Kai rolls his eyes, tsking like youâre some heat-dumb omega, âOmegas say things they donât mean during their heat all the time, Y/N. For all I knew, you probably thought I had condoms. I guess Iâm the only responsible one here.â
He shakes your hands off so that he can shove his joggers down in one impatient move, cock springing free, flushed dark strawberry red at the tip, pearl colored slick leaking from the slit.
You freeze, stomach dropping, gasping at the sight of it, mouth suddenly both dry and wet all at once. Thereâs long, thick, veins standing out under flushed, a cross between mauve and maroon colored, skin. The fat head is slick and swollen, glistening with creamy shimmery pre-cum. At the base, his knot bulges heavy, already swelling like itâs taunting you.
Itâs pretty. Too pretty. You hate the word the moment it passes through your head, but you canât stop staring. Your mouth waters. You want it to choke you. You want it deep inside, stretching you, filling you until his cum is spilling out. The image is humiliating and inevitable all at once.
Kai catches the way your lips part, the dazed hunger in your eyes. His smirk is sharp, but his voice is rough around the edges. He fists the base, gives himself a long stroke, groaning low.
âYeah?â he rasps, breath catching. âCanât even look at me without drooling, can you?â
Kai situates you so that you are pulled to the edge of the bed, his hands rough against your calves, dragging you closer to him. He steps in between your parted thighs, eyes flitting to yours, only to find them hungrily devouring his cock. With a huff of laughter, he lines himself up and pushes in, just the blunt head against your slick swollen entrance, stretching you wide immediately, your walls fluttering in response, swallowing his cock. You gasp at the intrusion, thighs locking around his hips, your heels trying to dig into his lower back, to get him closer to you, further into you. He remains still, his stance hard, locking him in position.
He groans low, eyes fluttering shut.
âFuck, youâre tightââ he hisses, unable to keep his hips from jerking, letting another inch of the tip thrust in. Then, deliberately cruel, once he manages to regain some control, he pauses, feeling your cunt suck him in, your muscles throbbing around his cock. He watches your face change, notices how your body spasms from the intrusion. His lips curl into something close to a smirk, âWhatâs wrong princess?â he asks, voice deceptively soft and cajoling.
âWant you Kai,â you wailed, âPlease? I can take it.â
At that he snorts, a little disbelievingly, âOh youâll take it. Youâll take all of me. But I donât think youâre ready for it. But if you insistâŚâ he shrugs, like he had tried to warn you.
He slams forward in one brutal thrust, arms like steel bands around your thighs, tilting you up, positioning you properly so you can take him more deeply, more completely. He bottoms out against you until his hips smack harshly against your ass. You scream, clutching at the sheets behind you, body stretched to its limit. Kai is practically holding you up entirely, lifting your body off the bed, his arms locked around your thighs, fingers threaded at your spine as your back arches, bending you backwards.
He groans raggedly like heâs breaking too, shifting you to hold you more properly, lips brushing against your shoulder as he grips you tighter, closer to him. Your hands scramble across his back, your milky blueberry colored nails leaving scratches which makes his cock twitch from deep inside you. But he doesnât knot. Not yet. He grits his teeth, breath harsh in your ear. âStay still. Feel it. Feel what you created. Feel how youâve made your alpha suffer and wait.â
Itâs too much. Already too much. You cry out, hips twitching helplessly, and his thumb somehow finds your clit. It only takes one massage of his thumb pad in a rough circle, and youâre gone, sobbing through your first orgasm from his cock, walls clenching tightly around him as your slick gushes hot against his thighs.
Kai groans at the squeeze, his head dropping to your shoulder, but he doesnât give up. Still somehow has the strength to continue to hold you up. Not yet. He thrusts slowly, grinding his cock in deeply through your aftershocks, forcing you to feel the length of him, the swollen weight of his length inside.
âThatâs all it takes, princess?â he mutters, voice rasping, caught somewhere between reverent and cruel. âOne thrust and youâll orgasm? No darling, weâre not done. You can take more. I havenât even knotted yet. Your body wants more Y/N. You need to catch your mind up to speed.â
He pulls back and starts to thrust, deep and relentless, every stroke bottoming you out. One hand stays clamped across your back, holding you firmly against his chest, the other one continues to rub and pluck at your clit until youâre wailing, hips jerking erratically against his pelvis.
The second orgasm rips through you fast, brutal, the overstimulation sending you over the edge. You sob his name, nails clawing backwards at the sheets, and thatâs when Kai finally loses it.
âFuck, Y/Nââ His groan is guttural, torn from his chest, as he roars, his cock throbbing violently. He slams into you to the hilt, as his knot begins to swell thick, locking you down just as he spills hot thick ropes of cum deep inside you. You scream again at the stretch, at the molten liquid filling you, flooding your insides, at the way his knot keeps you stuffed full, sealing every drop inside. Not even letting a trickle drip out and run down your thighs.
Kaiâs arms tighten further around you, caging you in more properly, his forehead pressed hard to yours, as he pelts you with a dozen hard bruising kisses over your lips, punctuating each one with growled out words that are barely comprehensible. âMine. Youâre mine. Bare. Finally, mine. Never gonna take you with a barrier. Don't want anything separating us. Always bare.â
You writhe, whimpering, from overstimulation; both his words and his knot have you feeling like you are vibrating out of your skin, but he holds you firm. âStay,â he growls into your ear, breathing out hot puffs that tickle your sensitive skin. âYouâre cock-warming me until you learn not to tease your alpha so much. All the fucking time. My bratty omega.â
âI canât,â you sob, âItâs too much.â
âWeâre locked together like this, princess,â Kai laughs darkly, his chuckle pitched low and villainous. âBetter find something to occupy us if you donât want me to use your body so quickly again.â
âHungry,â you mutter almost inaudibly, burrowing your face into his sweaty neck, nose brushing up against his scent glands.
Kai stills, cocking his head, trying to hear you better, shaking his hair out; the sweat has dried making it remain in clumped sections. He feels like he's underwater, can barely make out what you said from the loud sound of blood rushing through his skull, âWhat was that darling?â
You shake your head, refusing to speak, but your stomach growls, inopportunely at that moment, revealing your hunger.
Kai blinks, abruptly startled, then snorts before he can stop himself, biting his bottom lip as his face softens. He grins, âGuess thatâs my cue to feed you before you faint,â still half-laughing, and the normalcy of it hits harder than the heat ever did.
He brushes a kiss over your hair, âOkay. Youâll get your much needed respite. Letâs see what food I can scrounge up for you from the snack tote while we place a delivery order and wait for it.âÂ
Š KAIMERAE 2025
being anti ai is making me feel like in going insane. "you asked for thoughts about your characters backstory and i put it into chat gpt for ideas". studies have proven its making people dumber. "i asked ai to generate this meal plan". its causing water shortages where its data centers are built. "ill generate some pictures for the dnd campaign". its spreading misinformation. "meta, generate an image of this guy doing something stupid". its trained off stolen images, writing, video, audio. "i was talking with my snapchat ai-" theres no way to verify what its doing with the information it collects. "youtube is impletmenting ai based age verification". my work has an entire graphics media department and has still put ai generated motivational posters up everywhere. ai playlists. ai facial verification. google ai microsoft ai meta ai snapchat ai. everyone treats it as a novelty. every treats it as a mandatory part of life. am i the only one who sees it? am i paranoid? am i going insane? jesus fucking christ. if i have to hear one more "well at least-" "but it does-" "but you can-" im about to lose it. i shouldnt have to jump through hoops to avoid the evil machine. have you no principles? no goddamn spine? am i the weird one here?
Chat, is it considered âabusive roommate behaviorâ to release a raccoon into the living space after you have asked your roommate for months to please clean up their messes (they do not pay any of the mortgage)
For context, when I used to live alone I would do something called âPrincess Timeâ where I would do an initial sweep (to remove any significant hazards) and then I would release a raccoon into the living area and clean. This helped because I would 1) feel like a princess and 2) the raccoon would bring attention to things my ADHD brain had decided to ignore and Iâd quickly clean that stuff up.
So like, if Iâm expected to clean the house now, I will be doing it in the way that is most effective for me. And anything that has not been cleaned up after months of having sit-down talks and sending reminders and being promised things will change, might be deemed âtrashâ by the trash panda and thrown away.
We havenât done since we moved into the house, because I didnât want to cause my roommate or their cats destress or have their things destroyed by a raccoon
I am a raccoon biologist and one of the few people in the state allowed to take in captive bred raccoons that had been possessed illegally. The raccoon in the photos is Moonshine, but she is currently at the animal sanctuary where I work as I had been quarantining multiple new intakes from an abuse case. I still have two males (Rum Tum Tugger and Electra) left in my home enclosure as we are getting them neutered and then hopefully sending them to an AZA accredited zoo.
I wanna make things very clear that underneath all the whimsy, I am a trained professional.
Those vibes are likely because Iâm the original creator of Dashcon and my personality has not changed since 2012 lmao
I turn 30 next month so hereâs what I learned in my 20s:
âdonât work for startups, theyâre always one âinnovative ideaâ away adding âsell your kidneys on the black marketâ to your job description.
âkeeping a collection of basic OTC medicine on you will save your life one day. I recommend Advil, Imodium, and TUMS.
âthose little single-use glasses cleaning wipes are 1000% worth the money
âoverly self-depreciating jokes just make people uncomfortable, wean yourself off of them
âyou can buy dehydrated mini marshmallows in bulk online and theyâre a godsend for hot cocoa
âpeople donât care if you have fidget toys on your desk they just want to play with them
âtry to go to bed BEFORE the existential ennui kicks in
Also drink water and eat a plant
This is all GREAT. I turned 40 last week, so permit me to add what I learned in my 30s:
keep on not working for startups
sometimes there comes a point where the thing (fandom, hobby, friendship, romantic relationship) you loved no longer brings you joy. And that's okay. Try to mourn the loss, take joy in the memories, and don't burn any bridges in case ten years go by and you find yourself back in that fandom/hobby/relationship again
it turns out that (ugh) moderate regular exercise is (spit) good for you. The sooner you make it part of your life, the easier it'll be
related: if you throw yourself into a new exercise regime too hard and too fast, without stopping to rest or consider whether a particular move is good for you ... well, shoulder injuries are painful and consults with orthopedic surgeons are expensive
knees are bastards too
don't even get me started on ankles
there may come a time when your digestive system is too fragile for ibuprofin. I'm sorry
one day you're gonna wake up and realise you no longer give any fucks about some things that used to bother you
on the other hand, you might be alarmed to realise what you still give a fuck about
never get down on the floor without an exit strategy for getting back up
I turn 50 this year. what I have learned in my 40s:
"loving yourself" is less of a feeling and more of an action. you can start doing it any time and it will make your life better and better as you go on
this will happen incrementally - be patient
along those lines, if you haven't started making an active effort to quit shit-talking yourself, suck it up and do it
no, shut up. do it. "but it's haaaaard!" don't care. do it.
whether you like it or not, you are mortal and you need to go to the doctor for an annual checkup
stretch regularly - your future self will thank you
at some point you will encounter people much younger than you arguing passionately and incorrectly about history you personally remember and experienced
this will be infuriating and annoying
otoh, most other things just... will not matter to you as much
at some point you will shift from wanting to go out to being like "eh" and deciding to stay in. this is okay.
you will have absolutely no idea what The Youth are talking about and you will not care
but if you keep your mind open to new ideas you'll never be irrelevant
your company still doesn't love you - don't give them more than they pay you for
get a fucking hobby, especially a hobby that involves physically creating/handling something and/or moving your body in physical space. it will do you more good than you can imagine
Just turned 60 and let me say:
Find joy, every kind, it's always worth it
I'm talking that massive, never-ending Discord chat with your bestie? The one that makes you giggle through the day? It's not a "waste of time," it's what time was made for
If that's fanfic for your favorite characters who never even met on screen celebrate that!
If that's building a tiny fleet of snake villagers for your snake town and they just cover your mantel hell yes!
If that's collecting pillows and making a fort of them every weekend I'll be right over
Feeling and sharing joy is the whole point
This is too temptingâŚ, so, Iâm 74, and: donât fund startups
Please keep stretching and exercise enough NOT to need an elaborate strategy to get up from the floor. IT MAY SAVE YOUR LIFE
Say bye to your employer as early as you possibly can, unless you really love your job. You wonât be sorry.
Keep doing the annual checkups đđź
Enjoy that fucking hobby youâve acquired in your 50, or find something new. Do try new things & adventures.
World Heritage Post

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so ummm welcome to my jar:) lemme show you around! theres some holes poked in the top so i can breathe, theres some leaves to munch on, and ive even got a twig! #mytwig
happy one year of this post. and from the bottom of my heart. i did not know what i wrought
i love this woman
I'd fucking retire dude are you kidding me
I've got one of these. It's from the vtech V.smile educational games console. It's got a really nifty feature: it's ambidextrous!
you start beating them and mid match they beyblade their fucking controller to their dominant hand
love characters who are like "this is how the world works. this is how it has to be (because if i'm wrong i have to face what i've done // if i'm wrong i have to face whats been done to me) "
This trait is much more endearing in fiction than in my mother.
i like how hyuka biased moas are known for having great boobs. like the way weâre absolutely bodying the photocard trend and going viral is so funny to me.

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99% of queer discourse stops right before they define the true difference between bisexual and pansexual!
FOR THE LAST FUCKING TIME
BISEXUALS GROW FROM THE GROUND
PANSEXUALS GROW FROM THE CEILING
No no, you're thinking of stalagmites and stalactites.
Bisexuals curve inward like an hourglass, while pansexuals curve outward like a(n American) football.
No, you're thinking of concave and convex. Bisexuals are a one-sided, two-dimensional surface with a boundary, and pansexuals are a one-sided, two-dimensional surface without a boundary.
No you're thinking of MÜbius strips and Klein bottles. Bisexuals have bears, pansexuals don't have bears. (Phrased for maxiumum hilarity.)
No, you're thinking of the Arctic and Antarctic regions. Bisexuals do not move, while pansexuals are paper products.
No, you're thinking of stationary and stationery. Bisexuals are a figure of rhetoric used to describe something by comparing it to something else without using the words "like" or "as", while pansexuals are that but they do use "like" or "as"
You're thinking of a metaphor and a simile. Bisexuals are something said to praise someone or something, while pansexuals are things that complete or go very well together, especially in terms of design or taste.
Fuck me like you mean it !!
ââ .⌠pairing: h.k x reader
Browsing an adult dating app is the last thing you should be doing when youâre failing your college classes, but whoâs to blame you when youâve got your eye caught on an anonymous user with a hot bod, apart from the nerdy guy in your chem class whoâs tutoring you? xx
â°ââ¤MDNI - NSFW content ahead... âŚor in simple words⌠ɴá´Ęá´ !á´á´ÉŞ x á´á´á´á´Ęá´Ę!Ęá´á´á´ á´Ę
á°.á wc - 12.2k words
warnings!! and mentions!! switch!reader, blowjob, sex in public but enclosed space, vulgar language, readerâs a bit mean, stomach bulge, riding, cunnilingus, masturbation, sexting, slight nipple play, fleshlight use, big dick!kai agenda, lots of sex mention but overall quite mild i think !! Mightâve missed some things
tyunningismâs note: I seriously wasnât planning on getting this done until like early July but every time I have time on my hands I end up coming back to finish off parts of this fic !?? Need to go on a whole course on how to write smut better bc I genuinely feel deenergised + decided to make reader filthy rich as well to add a bit more to her character !!??
â9 assignments Miss L/N.â
Fuck. Literally who decided to make the deadlines for chemistry so short?!! 4 months is barely anything- like- you have a life outside of college too you know?
âThermodynamics study. Due 4 months ago. Submitted, nothing.
Kinetics research. Due 6 months ago. Submitted, nothing.â
The sound of pages flicking like your professorâs reading a whole criminal case log irritates you, itâs not like you didnât complete anything?!
âReactions thesis. Due 7 months ago. Submitted a video of yourself opening up a pair of Louboutins.â
âIn my defense professor you didnât tell me I submitted that video on accident until two days after it was due!â
âAnd I havenât received a single updated document from you over the last seven months for that assignment.â
âTouchĂŠ.â You dust off your pencil skirt too bored out of your mind to spare your babbling professor an ear, admiring the new manicure you got done when you were out in LA during finals last week.
âAhem. Are you listening Miss L/N? I said at this rate youâre headed towards failing and needing to retake.â
Failing??
Ohmygosh failing!!!
âNo you canât do that Peter! My fatherâs going to kill me if you fail me this year!! And I need that credit card- so please? Canât you just let me sneak in to second year?â Seems like batting your eyelashes is too old school now even for your ageing professor.
âItâs Jenkins, Professor Jenkins- remain professional will you? If I permit you to go ahead in to your second year what will I say to the board when they question why youâre lacking behind the rest of the class?â
God, this is unbelievable.
You roll your eyes and slide your manicured hands along his desk to flick to the gradebook with your nail, scanning your eyes along masses of F, F, F, F and oh- a D!!
Grinning like youâve beat the stupid system you point at the D right next to your name,
âSee? A D! Thatâs enough to get me a spot for next year right?â
âIf youâre looking to apply for mopping the hallways of the Chemistry lecture halls then sure, but your grade has consistently failed to meet a pass in both semesters. I canât figure why you qualified for this course when you show no skills nor interest in studying Chemistry.â He raises his eyebrows for your answer but all you can focus on is the huge zit between the wrinkles lining up on his forehead..gross.
Well, you donât really know why you picked Chemistry because your brain canât even handle the easiest topics apart from getting the mclaren you wanted for you birthday if you went ahead with it. Your father canât blame you if youâre ass at the course can he?
You chew on the fat of your bottom lip, eyes squinting to observe your professorâs physiognomy: wrinkles carved in to his dehydrated skin, the coriander loosely hanging in between his teeth as he speaks and a balding head with hedgerows of graying hair sticking out measly. No way in hell are you sleeping with him for some stupid grade- at least save it for Professor Duncan whoâll fabricate a top grade in your Politics class if you send him some pictures (Havenât tested the theory yet, but Momoâs sister said it worked and she graduated just fine).
By the looks of it you canât fake your grades with a bit of daddyâs money like you did in Highschool to get you where youâre at right now, the Cartier watch that released this summer is glistening around his wrist and of course you canât help but admire !! If the rumours are true he probably got it from his sugar mommy half his age, yeah..better to keep those emergency funds for the new collection miu miuâs dropping.
âThis is serious Miss, staring at my face isnât going to cut it.â
Fuck, now your old bum of a professor thinks you were checking him out. Even if he was the last man on earth you wouldnât spare him a look..
âSo, Iâve set you up with the top student for some tutoring sessions over the next couple of weeks, and an exam at the end of summer which will decide whether I can give you a pass in to next year. Take this as a warning, make use of Taehyun as best as you-â
Burning sensations sting in your palms which now laid slammed on to the mahogany of the wooden lectern. Taehyun? As in Kang Taehyun who you gave a wedgie to in 5th grade? What makes this old fart think that nerd wonât try to sabotage you instead of tutoring you?
âNo! Iâm not being tutored by that freak!â Steam is blowing from your nose as you utter the insulting words with defiance.
âI donât see the issue with a well qualified student like Tae-â
âIâm sure the headmaster wonât see an issue when I show her the Venezuelan model youâve been seeing on campus grounds either.â
Itâs so rewarding to see him swallow his next words and close the gradebook in defeat.
Guess the rumours are true after all,
âFine. Iâll ask Kai if heâs up for some extra credit.â
Except this time the name doesnât ring a bell, hell- was there ever a Kai in your lecture hall? Sounds like heâs been celibate his whole life!
Shit, heâs been celibate his whole life.
The endless tapping of your pen starts to become monotonous in the silence of the library. If only your father didnât threaten to freeze your card if you didnât attempt to try and learn for once then you wouldnât even think of showing up in a place like this. Megan was supposed to be bringing her hot brother to lunch today too..
The timid male doesnât seem to speak much either, he keeps to himself and talks strictly in whispers as he goes over what heâll be tutoring with you over the next week, dumb chemical reactions and what not..canât you just graduate, get a degree and leave the actual work to people like Kai instead?
Kaiâs some silent guy who sits at the very front of the lecture hall. Always clad in something loose like a hoodie even when itâs sweltering in Summer and religiously reserved to himself although he usually sits next to, gag, Taehyun.
Anyone else would say they see the back of his head more than they see his face and it applies to you too, always sat at the very back in your designated seats with your friends and scrolling Instagram, or better even, gossiping about the new hidden gem you guys found out about a couple weeks ago.
âLetâs arrange a meeting every..hm.. Tuesday?â His voice is hushed and gentle, barely above a whisper.
You lean across the small desk space offered to you with your hands intertwined and nestled below your chin.
âSay Kai, do you have Winkchat?â
Pretty amusing to watch him gulp and look down at his feet at the mention, a nerd like him probably has an insta feed filled with philosophical quotes or some shit, let alone an account on an 18+ dating app.
A hand leaves its spot from under your chin to brush the hair covering his eyes away; whatâs the point of having those thickly framed glasses if heâs going to have his hair covering his eyes anyway?
But seems like your hospitality hasnât grown on him at all because he flinches back so cartoonishly even if your finger is miles away from his face.
âS-Sorry!!! I was just startled, uhm..no I donât have it.â
âPfft, you donât have to be tense with me Kai, promise I donât bite.â
âYeah..I know.â
If only you could see how heâs beating himself up over being so awkward right now. Of course he knows you, besides Taehyunâs never ending rants about the time you lied about having a crush on him in middle school upon piles and piles of other stories, Kai has known you for longer than you think.
The collegeâs princess, you and your friends are always walking around the campus with everyone spun and weaved around your finger like marionettes. Thereâs always a trail of the collegeâs varsity team trailing behind with their tongues panting at the sway of your hips and the stretch of your signature pink miniskirt your father shipped from Italy saddled on it. Heaps of shopping bags worth five times his tuition clung to their biceps; following you mindlessly like brain-dead zombies to load them in to the back of your sports car among countless others he canât name.
You live a glamorous life in your tiny 6 inch heels and perfectly styled curls, dainty sunglasses buried pristinely on top of the crown of your head like embedded jewels that could feed a whole country if you ever bothered to auction them.
But heâs known of your prima donna life since he first started volunteering at a nearby animal shelter in high school, watching discreetly behind the shelves of donated food as you squat down to coo at a siamese the shelterâs been homing for years. Every Sunday he would wait for you patiently to enter through the double doors with your black Hermès handbag, all to drop it off in the volunteer room to change in to a poorly weaved âvolunteerâ apron so you could help clean the cubicles and cages.
Kai doubts anyone else on campus has seen you more authentically than he has. After he stopped volunteering there he would take the longer route on his walk back to his apartment, walking past the shelter just to peep if your flashy sports car was still parked there as usual on Sunday. He doesnât know when he pushed the whole âpuppy loveâ agenda by having a fat crush on you, he doubts you even notice him among the list of all the other guys head over heels for you.
âMy friend Momo told me youâre a genius isnât that like so crazy? Canât believe people like you really exist and arenât some super duper realistic robots made to only study maths and science. Oh my God- do you watch shows? Do you like..know who Rihanna is?â
His mouth drops absurdly in confusion; did he really seem that out of touch and abnormal to you?
âI do..maybe it doesnât seem that way.â
What comes next is not what he was expecting because youâre clutching on to your stomach howling in laughter which only makes him frantic and wave his hands about to quiet you down before you both get kicked out of the library.
âAhah- awhh, youâre so adorable Kai. I was only joking~ donât get your panties in a twist over it.â Something please swallow him whole right now so you canât see the beet red starting to grow on his face.
âPsst! Come on Y/N!! Sunghoonâs gonna take us carpooling downtown, donât cancel on us now.â
An ecstatic Sullyoon rocks against the metal frame of the balcony above the library, beckoning you to join her and your other friends in to skipping classes again.
âWait! Iâm coming give me a second!â Packing the blank-paged note book and pens in to your bag you lock eyes with the strands of hair still blocking his,
âSorry Kai! I know this isnât ideal but I need to go like really really desperately so Iâll text you the details for the next session yeah?â A phone slides right in front of him on complete brightness which makes him wince, an empty contact page. The second he types in his phone number you hurry off in to the distance, the six inch heels strutting away still rings in his head minutes after you leave the library, still giddy he finally got to talk to you.
Out on the college parking lot is Sunghoonâs parked Cadillac convertible with a couple of girls including Sullyoon and Momo leaning against it while they conversed with him.
âHey princess.â The taller male whistles at you with an all-too recognisable girl sweetly attached to his arm.
âWhy call me over if youâve got company? I donât carpool if Iâm not in the passenger seat.â Your hand digs in to your handbag for a pack of tissues which you offer to Rue, whoâs still clinging on to Sunghoonâs arm.
âYouâre starting to sweat on your nose beautiful, we donât want that in your car do we Hoon?â A voice so alluring could make Sunghoon sign off to enlist his whole life serving in your name, triggering Sullyoon and Momo in to boisterous laughter when he shakes Rue off him slightly too aggressively to save her any face.
âQuick, hop in losers!â Sullyoon beckons.
âUgh fuck!â The discarded girl watches as you buckle yourself in to the front seat of the leather-back rest as a slender hand tussles through your hair to frame your face in harmony with the sun.
âOh, and tell your brother thanks for the manicure by the way~ Ask him if my cunt tasted good.â With that, Sunghoon presses down on the accelerator which carries you out of campus grounds and on to the high way with dangerous ease.
âWooo!! Youâre such a bitch Y/N donât get me wet now.â Momo leans forward and swings her arms around you with a beer can loosely held in her hand, a smile forms on your face watching Sullyoon drag her back in to the back seat before they got fined for not having seatbelts on at this speed.
âWhat else can you expect of our college princess? That bitch really has some nerve trying to climb in to our circle through Hoon, and you horny fucker let her!â An aggravated Sullyoon kicks the back of Sunghoonâs seat playfully all the while recording the blocks of apartments and houses flash by in laughter.
âI think sheâs quite cute is she not? Still pales in comparison next to you though.â Additional warmth from Sunghoonâs hand resting on your thigh triggers you to open your mouth again,
âGross, youâre like a brother to me Hoon.â
âOh really? Sunghoon told us he fucked you stupid at the birthday party he threw for you.â
And this is why you shouldâve kept your loud mouth shut.
A questioning eye burns through Sunghoonâs conscience,
âHoon!! Why would you tell them that?! And for clarification I fucked him stupid, not the other way round and it sucked.â
Sunghoon chuckles but with an underlying tone; like heâs pissed off by your bold accusation (the truth) because it hurt his fragile masculinity by a mile.
âSounds like someone needs to get laid.â
âYeah, Iâm aware, thanks Hoon.â
âDidnât I tell you to try out Winkchat?â Just hearing the words come out of Sullyoonâs mouth makes you groan in frustration.
âI have standards baby, Iâm not going to fuck the first guy I see on my recommended because his limp dick flashed me when I opened up the goddamn app.â
âBut the moment you hit gold like Sullyoon did with her man youâll be addicted literally.â
Fine. Youâll give the stupid sexting app another chance.
Unlocking your phone you swipe among hundreds of other apps to tap on to the pink icon, thousands of message requests and notifications flooding your account with just a photo of your face and an a-line shirt is enough to drive any man crazy in this day and age.
As you expected to see on the explore page, another tiny weiner pic. No chance.
Some gym bro in Manhattan who spent all his effort in his arms and no where else and now looks top heavy, laughable.
And a man who dresses like weâre stuck in the 1800s.. what great luck do you have.
Just as youâre about to swipe off the app and delete the tab your thumb accidentally swipes to the next profile.
A subtle picture of a hand discreetly lifting up a band tee, teasing, revealing only a fraction of dimly shaded but defined abs under neath from a low angle, a long etched dragon tattoo running between the ridges of muscle and painted with a slight beauty mark.
Thereâs no face in any of the profileâs slides at all but itâs enough to captivate your eye, ranging only from pictures of his abs to a video of him playing guitar, a freshly made account by the looks it with nothing else in the bio except his age and the city you were also in. Jack pot, a straight friend request to user âkkh.txtâ.
An arm reaches to snatch your phone away out of your hands. âYouâve been silent this whole time because youâre back on Winkchat tut-tut, knew youâd be hooked. And hey who is this!! Heâs got a hot bod, shame you canât see what he looks like.â Momo snatches the phone off Sullyoon to inspect the same montage of abs, tattoos and guitar playing videos.
âI can tell heâs hot just by looking at the posts, heâs not pushy with it or flashing his shit, he knows heâs sexy as hell geez.â
âNot that I care about what he looks like, that tattoo on his stomach fuckk come my way!â You snatch your phone back and take a couple of screenshots of his profile to save for..later. But Sunghoon has other plans,
âLetâs head to the tattoo shop actually Iâve been wanting to-â
âDonât even think about it Hoon. Iâd actually retch on the spot if you came out with one of those tacky poorly coloured rose tattoos.â Momo jokes, which sparks more anger in Sunghoonâs already fuming head.
âAh! I forgot I was going to ask, howâs that nerd whoâs tutoring you? Is he not super sweaty in that hoodie?â
How were you supposed to know Sullyoon?!!
âHmm, heâs a bit awkward and all over the place. But heâs quite cute actually, in the sense that heâs entertaining to watch because he flinches at everything.â The events of trying to brush away his hair replays in your mind again, yeah heâs probably never felt a womanâs touch before.
âSo would you fuck him?â Sunghoon mutters through gritted teeth like heâll explode if you said something he didnât like.
But honestly? Yeah youâd fuck a nerd. Itâs the ego boost that really gets you going and the way they practically yearn for a bit of action on their virgin dicks, exactly your type really as much as youâd hate to admit.
âWhy not, heâs got pretty lips and heâs tall.â
âEww!! The bar is in hell girl.â Momo sticks two fingers in her mouth and retches a fake gag.
âWatch it be the next new trend to fuck nerds the moment word gets out that she does, thatâs so fucking hilarious!â
All the talk about it being gross doesnât put you off though, in fact it only intrigues you further, what if Kai could eat pussy like a champ? Itâs not like itâs a crime to try is it?
âI canât believe her.â Taehyun scowls through his bared canines. He jabs his cutlet with a plastic fork from the campusâ canteen and lifts it on to Kaiâs plate.
âHearing her name is enough to ruin my appetite.â
Kai, who gladly accepts the cutlet, pays no mind to the start of whatâs going to be another of those âTaehyunâ rants about you that never end. Instead his eyes are glued to his faint reflection in the glass behind his best friend.
âI think sheâs quite nice. Better than what youâd expect from how devilish you describe her.â
âBecause she is the devil Kai! Have you not been listening to all those traumatic sufferings Iâve had to deal with since 5th grade because of her?â Taehyun pushes up the round thick glasses back up his nose, the outdated kind youâd expect to see in a retirement home and not someone in their early 20s.
âI think youâre being dramatic Tyun.â
âYou think Iâm being dramatic? That spawn from heck freaking ditched you thirty minutes early today! She treats people like theyâre insects.â
Not that Kai would mind if you treated him like an insect, heâs already over the moon that you acknowledged he exists today.
âDo you think I should get a haircut?â
The suddenness of the question knocks the air out Taehyunâs lungs, causing him to cough and spit all over his (and Kaiâs) food, a hand quickly grasping for water which only makes it worse.
âW-what?! Since when did you care so much about how you looked Kai..I thought you liked it long!â
He does like it long, but he also wants to prevents another woeful incident where he flinches away simply because you wanted to move the hair out of his face.
âI do itâs just more..convenient? I might ask Beomgyu if he can take me to his uncleâs barber shop later once he finishes Chess Society after lunch.â
The answer is straight from the heart and sincere so of course Taehyun canât say no! Not to an angel like Kai who people pleases everyone at the chance.
Thatâs when he sees it, a small ping!- that lights up his phone to reveal a lock screen of some anime character you for sure wouldnât be able to name.
ây/n.553 sent you a chat request, chat back to her now â¤ď¸đĽâ
His eyes nearly jump out of his head. It canât be, right? Just someone with the same name, just a mere coincidence.
âIâll catch you later Taehyun I need to go submit in something.â
Regardless of the other manâs bewildered cries, he leaves in a hurry with his phone clutched tight in his clammy hands and right in to the menâs bathrooms. Not the greatest place he could hide his screen right now but itâs all that came to mind.
Defintely you. He canât mistake that face for anyone else. Your profile isnât even completed, only filling two out of three slides with a selfie and a beach photo that you also posted to your instagram, but the flame next to your name suggests youâre receiving loads of requests and a hot topic anywhere, even on dating apps.
Originally, he created an account to boost his confidence about the abs he worked on all through last summer after being stuck on gym propaganda while Beomgyu was crashing at his apartment; except Beomgyuâs motivation to become the bulky âjockâ and not a neek he aspired to be died within the first week of training.
Itâs what pitched Kai to get a tattoo in the first place when he realised how big of a turn on it was for women who started to flood his profile with messages. Nothing more nothing less than a side practice to keep his confidence up a bit when he was basically invisible to the rest of his peers in real life.
Though this, this is different. Something more electrifying, experimental and dangerous if he had the guts to reply back; a shaky index lightly hovers over the âmessageâ button next to your icon, shit heâs doing it.
y/n.553: Youre hot. Where did u get the tattoo frm
Truth be told Kai doesnât know how to make an impression on you, all he knows is that as long as youâre unaware itâs him, he can make as bold of a persona as he likes.
You: Downtown at Ink-lution. Heard of it before pretty?
y/n.553: No but it sounds niche thats so hot
y/n.553: thats the equivalent of buying me a necklace and choosing Chopard
All the names youâre throwing at him are cryptic in his mind, still thinking of what to respond without letting his awkwardness seep through as he leans an arm against the stall door.
you: yeah I wasnt gonna get it at first but im glad I did.
y/n.553: Asking for a friend do you have more ab pics x
Ab pics? Now? He infers you mustâve liked the profile heâd meticulously picked out if you were asking not so secretly for more pictures of his abdomen. Kaiâs not going to say no to you though, heâs more enthusiastic than he ever has been to lift up the entirety of his hoodie just below his nipples and test a couple of angles and lighting. Mustâve kept you waiting with how long it took for him to decide on which to send out of the billions he took, but he settles on a simple photo, leaned back against the stall door and a full shot of his abs only on surface level, but if your eyes wandered youâd spot the purposely unzipped fly of his jeans to reveal a pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs.
When he hit send he expected a quick thank you or something commenting on the photo, but after 5 minutes there was nothing on your end making him doubt in all the decisions he made in taking the photo or even the way he texted you since the start.
Yet through the screen he canât see the sweat beading down your forehead nor the hand snug between your thighs. Your back arches like a sculpture from the comfort of your mattress as your fingers naĂŻvely dance around your core, flicking and rubbing mindlessly at a sore clit you just canât seem to get the pleasure out of to orgasm!!
Thereâs no way in telling whether the unzipped fly was intentional or not but the subtle naughtiness of it makes your mouth drool at the thought. Whoever this was you needed to fuck, now, like real bad.
Stained fingers are wiped along the bare of your chest as you swipe off the photo to send a voice message, needy and dripping with want.
âCan you..please say something crazy, fuck Iâm gonna lose my mind.â
Kai jumps from how breathy you sound, instinctively turning down the volume just so he could hear your voice. He thinks heâs going to go insane from how desperate you sound through breathless panting; youâre touching yourself to his photos and thatâs enough to make his knees buckle in and tighten his boxer briefs.
He checks to make sure no one else is within earshot of him before he says the most humiliating line in his decades of living; something completely stolen from a crappy porn site he found himself on a couple days ago. He nervously presses down on the record button and hushes his voice an octave lower than usual,
âBe a good girl and cum for me.â
Looks as if you couldnât decipher that the voice belonged to him because you only respond with a photo of your dripping cunt, leaking your juices on to your bed sheets where two manicured fingers spread open your gaping hole.
y/n.553: want you to fill it up, pls?
Slight confession though- Kaiâs never touched let alone sexted a woman before, heâs still vaguely new to the whole sending nudes thing; but the ache in his pants and the lewd material enveloping his brain only increases his blood pressure by gallons directly headed towards his dick.
He remembers watching a guy do a whole step to step tutorial on how to jerk off extra good, having to lubricate his hand with a glob of his own spit and giving himself a couple of beginner strokes. Whenever his hand lightly rubs along one of the sensitive veins that grows thicker towards the base of his cock he hisses, having to pause or else heâll cum on the spot just from imagining you.
[kkh.txt sent you an attachment]
Your jaw fucking drops is an understatement.
Withdrawing from your attempts at a second orgasm and sitting up straight on your bed to analyse the dick pic the anonymous user had sent was a new experience for sure.
Heâs huge. God heâs monstrous even. Coke can girth youâd only expect to see on those heavily edited porn thumbnails and curved with a bulbous tip which sits prettily above the bulging veins leading to it. A pearl-like bead of pre-cum emerging from his pink dusted tip!! <3
Thereâs pretty much hearts in your eyes as you rush towards your wardrobe of your secret stash of sex toys hidden in a glittery pink box below your handbag collection; a couple of handcuffs and vibrators are strewn against the carpet in the process but you eventually find what you were looking for.
A 7.2 inch silicone dildo you stupidly assumed you could handle when you bought it six months ago, but the stretch of it was so insane you couldnât think properly as you tried to sink down on it, and now when you compare it to the picture the anonymous tattoo guy had sent you can immediately tell the flimsy piece of silicone was no match for him.
y/n.553: â¤ď¸
y/n.553: how big r u? looks huge
Kai gulps because he genuinely doesnât know, heâs never thought of himself as huge even if he knew he definitely wasnât small down there either. If he was attempting to measure with his hand which isnât too far off the size of his dick then he guesses it would be around 8 inches.
kkh.txt: Uhm, never rlly measured but im guessing 8 inches.
8 inches?!! Youâd have to make a trip to the ER if you ever let that thing inside of you!
You crawl to the full length mirror and spread your knees apart to sit back down on your legs, the dildo placed in the gap between as you watched where it reached in the mirror to quickly snap a photo.
y/n.553: This is only 7 inches..imagine how full youd make me feel with 8..
Kaiâs face burns as he observes the way your hand points at where youâd feel him in your stomach, thereâs something so sexy in the way you talk that makes Kai feel light headed and drunk on your sex energy. All he can think of is how heâd absolutely break you if he ever got too harsh with you and if thatâs the case heâs fine with paying any medical fees !!
Over the past week youâve dedicated all your time you usually would spend on shopping or getting your hair styled has been directly spent on messaging the hot tattoo guy on WinkChat. Momoâs right- the moment youâre hooked itâs impossible to stop.
Except one thing thatâs frustrating you out of your mind and the sole reason for the graying hairs ready to pop out of your scalp any moment now; you seriously know nothing about the guy and it doesnât sound like heâll ever share anything about him or his whereabouts before you could even get a taste of the big dick heaven that should be awaiting you.
Which is why youâre complaining to Momo over the phone right now with a bowl of acai in your hands,
âIâm telling you girl heâs got the biggest dick Iâve ever seen in my life. Oh my god I sounded like a virgin there didnât I?!â
âWhatt? Even bigger than San in business?â Momo queries, you can hear the soft buzz of tv in the background of her audio; what a bitch! Is your dilemma not entertaining enough for her or something?
âEhh, Sanâs big but heâs got no flair to it you know? Feels more like a stone pillar fucking me rather than a monster cock.â
A line of laughter erupts from the other end of the phone at your joke but Momo doubts a faceless guy blessed in the below will be any different to San.
âUgh it completely skipped over my head that I have tutoring today! The moment my dad sets foot on the soil of this country again Iâm going to complain.â
âTell the nerd guy youâre seeing to tutor you at your house instead of the library, the college princess caught in that stink chamber? No thanks.â
Groaning, you end the call in annoyance, walking up to the pink double doors that led to the marble tile of your walk in closet. Not feeling the miniskirt today you nimbly waiver your hands over the racks of unnecessary clothing starting to build up as clutter.
A light pink baby tee? You wore something similar last week- canât do that.
Pair of Ed Hardy jeans? Itâs way too warm to be wearing those.
Milkmaid tops youâve never worn in your life? Possibly could work but youâre sure thereâs something better, something that would make Kai convulse and foam at the mouth if he saw you.
Got it.
Where were you? Kaiâs been sat patiently at the study table heâs reserved for the tutoring session for at least 20 minutes and you still havenât appeared strutting through the doors. Perhaps you were sick and just forgot to tell him? Or you overslept on accident all the way to 12:45 in the afternoon? Itâs okay, heâll just finish off his thermodynamics extended project in the mean time.
âSo sorry Kai! I know Iâm late I just had to go to the drugstore itâs super urgent- my favourite La Mer lipgloss ran out and I canât live without it!â
But Kai can barely register a word youâre saying when you walk in through the doors dressed like this; a blue cropped button-up top which is tied just below your chest to reveal a smidge of your white-laced bra and a pair of light denim shorts branded with diamonds that spelled âhotâ across the globe of your ass. Your stomach is on full display which only makes Kai oggle harder retracing to the conversation a couple nights before.
He indirectly measures with his eye how far he would really go if he entered you and believe it or not he doesnât think itâs humanely possible.
âStill have time to stare through those bangs of yours?â You chuckle loudly at him watching as the timid male be in denial so quickly about you catching him staring, not that you minded or anything if he really was.
âI-I didnât mean to stare itâs just..donât you get d-dresscoded for wearing that?â
Shoving his laptop and a couple of loose sheets in to his backpack for him you lean down over the table to try and meet his gaze despite the hair being a barrier,
âHoney, have you seen the art majors? I doubt the college board cares and plus I wanna sit at that table over there, not here.â
Kai canât even retort back to you even if heâs worried that someoneâs reserved the desk for later, distressingly following behind you as you guided him to the very back of the library even he didnât know about!!
Turns out if you wandered far enough behind the foreign language books that not many people ever think to visit youâd find a small table with cushioned benches to study on.
âWoah..how do you know about this place?â
âMy dad donated the chairs and tables for the library so this is the spot my friends and I used to use when we wanted to skip classes, isnât it sweet?â A sleekly glazed wooden table becomes racked with Kaiâs study materials and your once again empty note book and pen within seconds.
The pen in your hand taps lightly against your lip in a rhythmic motion, suddenly deep in thought about something as you made yourself comfortable on the benches.
âI donât know the answer Kai.â
A confused male looks up from his laptop screen to gaze at you, tilting his head befuddledlby at your strange statement.
âWha..what? I havenât asked any questions yet..â
A new set of fresh acrylics tap gently at the pop quiz sheet Kai had constructed to see where you were at in your basically non-existent knowledge of chemistry.
âI donât know anything on that sheet Kai, weâre going to have to go basics.â You jut your lip out in to a pout and play with the loose thread emerging from Kaiâs sage cotton sweater at the wrists,
âCan we start off slow?~ I donât think I can handle all of it.â
Itâs like a massive lump has just blocked his ability to speak since your effect on him is so strong, heâs unsure of whether you know how teasing your words can sound in a different context or if youâre just really empty-headed and all-over-the place.
âUhm..y-yeah. Should we start off with atomic structure then?â His stutters become more prominent the more he feels under pressure from your sly gaze; brewing something scandalous in your irises as you take the image of a nervous Kai as your key ingredient.
âOkay so..uhm thereâs quite a lot of note taking in this part so if I go uh..too fast just let me know.â
The bubbling curiosity within you is distracting yourself from the familiarity of his voice you canât quite put your finger on, all too focused on wanting to see the eyes of the bashful nerd youâve got on your hands for the next hour.
âSo the basics are that the atom consists of protons and neutrons in the nucleus and- nghh.â
One hand flies straight up to slap against his mouth, completely in utter shock at the explicit moan that sounded through his lips, another hand holding strictly against the flat of your heel which was pressed directly over his crotch to restrict it from moving any further.
His mouth is open wide in shock and quivering like heâll bust if you moved your foot a single inch,
âI didnât get the rest of that Kai, can you repeat it?â
Kai looks over with near tears in his eyes, thereâs no way this is happening right- did you finally figure out kkh.txt was him? His whole world is flipping upside down as the growing erection in his sweats becomes more unbearable by the second; he can already see the headlines of college gossip coming after him- âpervert nerd gets hard in the library over a heelâ. Fuck heâs doomed.
âU-uhm. So..â His voice canât seem to pick back up on the information dump he was spouting seconds before, quivering lips and a shaky voice like heâs about to start crying.
âThe electrons..are fuck, theyâre in fixed energy s-shells we learnt that in middle s-school.â The grip on your heel is tight, but all that you need is to slip your foot out of the restraints, dragging down the flexing muscles in his thigh from how stiff heâs becoming, itâs cute really.
âAre we..are we really going to do this here?â His voice cracks as he shivers from your touch,
âWell, do you want me to continue Kai? No one will spot us back here~â
No words come out of him with the exception of a hum and a weak nod.
âKai, I need words, will you let me make you feel good?â
Thereâs tears awaiting to spill from his eyes because heâs so embarrassed that this is how his first time is headed, but he would sell his soul for you to touch him just once, so hard in his sweats he might come undone from your gaze alone.
âPlease..want itâ In a voice so meek and timid all you can do is coo at him, turning around the table to stand up in front of him with a finger glamourised with rings that felt cold and bared against the clammy warmth of his cheek and itâs like he doesnât even try to breathe when youâre in front of him.
In one swift motion you lift up the soft trenches of hair covering his eyes to reveal a set of soft brown irises; endearing and fucking gorgeous?!! Kaiâs inherited the kind of eyes that make men go to war with how soft and pleading they are; beautifully adorned with glistening tears from how desperate he is for release adjourned with the rosy speckles dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The whole sight is everything you want in a man- weak, pining and tearful just for you !! ><
The absolute control you have over his lust only dampens your victoriaâs secret panties youâre sure to gift Kai later for how good heâs being for you right now, leaning down to give him a quick peck heâs scrambling all the depths of his mind to figure out how to respond to.
âGod youâre so adorable I fucking crave for cute nerds like you Kai, wanna see what youâve got under the-â
âC-can I keep the sweater on?â Kai questions in a soft tone, but seriously? Fucking in a library with a sweater on? Whatever, heâs probably just over complicating things or doubting his frame but you could care less about any of it right now; especially when youâve become engrossed with the natural-born pleading face this man just comes with!!
You give him a quick nod before removing the headband from your head and brushing back his bangs with it gently,
âWanna see your face when I make you feel good okay pretty boy?â Shit. Kai could cum untouched right now with how youâre making his mind spin with the compliments, his thought process is lagging behind ten times its normal rate when you lean down to pull down his sweats with a hooked finger.
But in that tiny head of yours you couldnât imagine Kai to be any bigger than around 4 inches assuming that heâs never been able to reach a girl with it. Likewise, you even prepared to ruin him with your throat alone; he looks as if heâd be so easy to excruciate pleasure out a tiny dick, heâd probably cum within seconds <3
But for Kai to be about 8- no, more than that with how itâs still growing in your hand, probably 8.2 inches and thick enough to tear your mouth if he really wanted to..
All colour drains from your face as you admire in both shock and fear..honestly you donât even know if you can even handle a monster like this, the thought of it entering you sending shivers down your spine. You donât even realise youâre drooling on to the floor from staring at the way your hand can barely wrap around the circumference of it. Who knew a nerd packing all of this wouldâve slipped right under your nose?
Kaiâs not keeping up well either, clenching down on his teeth and gripping the edge of the bench as best as he can to prevent himself from leaking anymore trails of precum from his painfully red tip. He just canât help himself when he sees you on your knees all laid out prettily for him as your eyes sparkle every single time he twitches when your finger runs along his vein. His breathing fastens when he locks his eyes on the slight curve of your chest as you admire him so openly- boosting his ego to the moon.
âKai..youâre- youâre fucking huge. I donât know if I can take it.â You whine and point a dainty finger at your throat with a pout, brows in panic from imagining the stretch like youâre telling him heâs too big for you to handle, too big for you to fit all of him in and Kai has to hold back from releasing all over your face if he deeps your words again too much.
Nonetheless youâre still begging to get a taste of him now that you know his true potential. Giving sweet little kitten licks around his flushed tip, using two fingers to lightly squeeze around it for another glob of precum to leak out of his slit.
âTaste so good pretty, just be good for me okay?â
Your unoccupied hand reaches to fondle Kaiâs balls as your pop his tip fully in to your mouth, lapping your tongue around in a swirling motion which makes him shut close his eyes and dig his fingernails in to the cushion of the bench even further.
Pulling off of him with a pop!- A glob of spit lands in your hand, the strings of saliva still connected to your lip as you lube his cock with your fluids, preparing yourself before hand so you have a better attempt of taking him all in !! <3
The heaviness of his cock twitches uncontrollably as you twist your wrist along his shaft, the receptors in his veins pulsing and sending waves of pleasure in to his blood stream every time you squeezed a bit too hard around one of them.
âP-please ah! Donât tease..â Poor boy has tear stains around his eyes from how hard heâs constraining himself, his thighs are flexed so hard theyâre seconds away from cramping and his lips are on the verge of drawing blood if he bites down any harder.
âMmhm.â You hum around him as you start to take him in deeper, not even half way when you have to stop to let your throat adjust, suctioning around him so tightly heâd rather die than let you go. The moment you feel your throat retract you push further down past half way until it physically felt impossible for you to reach or deepthroat, using your hand to jerk whatever length you couldnât reach.
The usual neatness of your hair comes apart in seconds the moment you start to pick up the pace, head bobbing up and down as you tie your hair with your other hand in to a makeshift ponytail. Occasionally, youâd gag whenever you felt his hips start to buck in to your throat with need, the extra unexpected length pushing you to tears.
The obscenity of the lewd noises of fluids and spit, whenever you lips detached from it to lick long stripes along the curve of his cock, mascara starting to collect at your undereye from tears caused by the stretch of him in your throat.
Kai believes heâs on a completely different universe by now. Thereâs no thoughts in his head apart from how pretty you looked and how close he was to cumming down your throat, the scene so erotic itâs more addicting than any other variation of porn or hentai heâs ever watched in the sanctity of his apartment- fuck itâs more than that, he wants to burn this image of you in to his mind forever so that he can use it for later.
âShit Y/N nghh! Iâm going to cum you need to augh!- wait..â The blissed male attempts to pry you off of him with screwed shut eyes fearful he was going to cum down your throat, but you do anything but that. Instead you nuzzle your chin all the way down to the furthest point you can reach and jerk him off; waiting for the warmth of his cum to shoot far down your throat for you to swallow.
âW-wait!! I really am going to cum, fuck mmh!~ I-is it really okay?â Whatever heâs pleading doesnât matter because the next thing you know heâs splurging the thickest load youâve ever had to swallow, dragging down your throat with high viscosity. Some of it drips down the corner of your lips as he smears his sensitive tip along your beaming smile.
âYou did so well for me baby, youâll have to let me do this more often- wanna see how far I can really go.â Opening up a pack of makeup wipes you clean up the mascara stains and pack your things up, leaving Kai speechless, hot and bothered and also another tutoring session gone to waste.
âI need to see results. Going to tutoring and coming back with no notes is never going to stick in your brain.â The bellow of your fatherâs voice echoes through the halls of your empty house- heâs come back from his annual business trip and what do you have to show youâve been working? Absolutely nil, zero nothing.
Groaning, you call over a nanny to set up the plates, youâre not going to sit down for dinner with a father whoâs going to moan at you all day for making you choose a course you canât do!
âI am working !! We went over like electrons and proteins and stuff of that sort.â
âBy working you mean pressuring someone in to telling you all the information while you post all sorts of stupid photos!â
âItâs instagram you old fart! The version of like facebook or something for your millennia! Anyways I need to go because Meganâs calling me to go shopping with her at the night plaza asap.â Earrings and hoops among other clattering items like studded belts and heels ring behind you as you start to walk off in the same clacky-heels you always wear.
âIâve suspended all of your bank accounts.â
âNice try father, stores still use cash nowadays.â
âThe maids found your cash stack in the small compartment below your vanity.â
Thatâs your breaking point.
âFather!! You canât just let them go snooping in my room like that!â Oh youâre fuming- whatâs going to happen next? They find your secret sex toy collection and then your fatherâs going to have to take away your closet?
âTell the boy who tutors you to come around next Friday for dinner, I want to see that youâre at least trying to learn.â
âFine! But only if you hand me back everything after.â Boiling with rage you shove past the maids by the door and up the cold marble stairs, if you werenât aiming for more hair growth this summer you wouldâve definitely ripped out more than a couple strands by now.
Reaching your bedroom you finally slump on top of a pile of eiderdown pillows, whipping out your phone to message Kai about the arrangement.
Speaking of Kai, you think youâve gone insane.
Ever since you left the library that day you couldnât forget the imprint of his dick in your throat and the needy look in his eye. His moans were literal heaven to your ears, so sensitive and breathy you seriously couldnât get enough of it!! However the downside now is that you canât even get off your fingers anymore because now all that you desire is Kai, like heâs drugged you with some sort of addictive attraction towards him that only pushes you to want for more.
A quick dial to your ex fuck buddy Soobin should get him off your mind right? Heâs got that same yearning face in him although less intense than Kai and you can bet your whole LV collection on him that heâll show up to your door in less than 5 minutes if you really needed him to.
âHello?â
âHey Binnie, can you come over? I got in to an argument with father.â You mewl a little to make yourself seem as pitiable as you can.
âSo, let me get this right. Youâre asking to fuck?â
âBingo! You got it Binnie so can you like please come over in five?â
The long and weighted sigh on the other end of the line does not sound like good news.
âCanât, sorry princess Iâm out of the country right now. Goodbye.â
Soobin ends the phone call without another word which only makes you dead pan at the white contact screen again.
âUgh fuck you Choi Soobin! Couldnât he be a little bit more considerate?â You turn to lay on your back and open up WinkChat, not even needing to scroll down to find his username at the top of the chats.
you: send me a vid of u masturbating now.
kkh.txt: now??? im at a friendâs apartment.
you: please??
Quickly snapping a photo of your exposed boob barely covered by the padding of your finger is all the anonymous user needs to take his sweet time in recording what you wanted.
âHey..Taehyun Iâm gonna use the shower okay?â
Taehyun scribbles away a couple of notes while watching a league of legends game play at the same time, only having the brain power to send Kai a quick thumbs up before he disappears behind the doors of his apartment bathroom.
Kaiâs fucking hard. Every single photo of you tortures him internally when all he can think about is the feeling of your tongue wrapped so prettily around him. He zooms in to the photo eagerly to peek at the swell of your tit, instinctively looking around to see if anyone was around despite being isolated in a bathroom out of shame for being so dirty.
A nosebleed is going to come flowing down his nose any second now was he turns on the shower, letting the pitter-patter of water hopefully drown out the sounds of his moans as he sets up his camera directly facing his naked self sat on the toilet lid but cut off from revealing his face.
The camera starts recording and heâs already lost on what to do, spotting what he thinks is Taehyunâs body lotion that he uses like his life depends on it for his eczema; Kai prays it isnât expensive as he loads a sample of it on to his palm before lazily stroking down his aching cock.
He wasnât supposed to bring this with him today, but he was planning on asking you to go on video call later when Taehyun went for his night shift leaving him alone, a fleshlight being pulled straight out of his bag he was intending to use that he bought on a whim.
He starts off guiding the sex toy down his lubed dick, groaning in pleasure at how tight the mound of silicone flesh is around him; he imagines itâs your walls wrapped around him, thought he hopes it would be warmer in side of you than the chill of the bathroom.
âShit.â Kai picks up the pace and squeezes the fleshlight harder around the tip, his hands moving in a vertical movement as he slides the silicone down the ridges of his cock, squelching Taehyunâs lotion in an explicitly sexual sound which formed a ring of white around the base.
Doesnât even think to slow down to catch his breath, he completely is just aiming towards chasing the same high you gave him, wrist starting to become lazy as he whimpers whenever the stimulation around his leaking tip gets too much!! Fundamentally heâs fucking up in to the fleshlight now, hips jerking upward whenever the toy would squeeze too hard around his vein with a plethora of whimpers flooding out of his mouth with no restriction. The flitter of the shower starts to steam up around him which only fogs up Kaiâs head even more, still thinking about how deliciously your pussy would nestle around him, how youâd leave a pool of slick below him from just how wet you are!! <3
Kaiâs knuckles are starting to show the white of his bone from how hard heâs squeezing the moment he feels the same anticipation of release, unable to keep his moans quiet as he spurts ropes of white all over his lap, his chest heaves rapidly while he snaps out of his trance, making sure to leave a taunting message at the end of the video,
âIâd fuck you so good if you let me.â Sent! Straight to your shared chat together,
Sure enough you send him floods of praise, particularly around the flex of his abs around his tattoo when he came.
Just when Kaiâs about to properly head in to his unusually âlongerâ shower a notification rings on his phone.
Y/N^u^: Can you come to my house for tutoring on Friday? Shellsby Manor, XXX-XXX, arrive before 6 k?
Sounds like Professor Jenkins idea considering you two havenât done any proper tutoring over the last two weeks, but Kaiâs more than happy to accept.
âIâm telling you that new VS pushup bra is all the craze right now!! I heard it made Carlyâs B cup look like double Dâs like what the fuck!?â Sullyoonâs browsing on her phone on her go-to shopping website again. Momo on the other hand has Jake Simâs head resting between her thighs as she plays with his nest of hair, yikes..
âStop being a bore I canât believe Iâm actually seeing you study for once.â
âShut up Jake I need it if I want my card back ugh!!â All the words and key terminology for the up coming assessment is just mumble and letters, at this rate youâre never going to pass without Kaiâs help!!!
âJust sleep with him, thatâs what all girls do.â Jake replies nonchalantly but the statement rubs you the wrong way- even if you did consider it...is he calling all girls whores?!!
Before you can even do it Momo slaps him away from her,
âUgh Jake youâre so vile get away!â Sullyoon shrieks and giggles, playfully kicking at the baseball captain which ends up landing at his nuts.
âAll of you shut up for a moment I need to focus!â You complain before putting all of your weight on to the arm behind you on the field of grass, youâve only just finished consolidating chemical reactions but you doubt youâll remember or properly understand it like this.
âWhat? Is she going to see that small-dick geek again?â Fuckass Jake didnât get his balls kicked hard enough because he still has the energy to retort.
âIâm not joking heâs like twice the size of yours.â You snicker before pinching your fingers together to mock an irritated Jake already feeling your work ethic coming to a halt.
âWell maybe if youâd actually let me bang you then youâd know. Because by the looks of it you let every other guy in between those legs.â Jake spits.
Way to ruin your mood Sim Jaeyun.
You pack up your laptop and belongings and spin on your heel to strut all the way down towards the canteen where you know youâd find Taehyun, and therefore him too.
Right in the corner behind the pillar where they canât be seen spot the same head of blonde hair and an agitating brunette whoâs immediately sending warning signals to Kai the moment you head towards their way.
âHi Tyunnie! Miss me?â You blow Taehyun a kiss before rustling his oddly styled hair gently- eco gel..and jesus christ a whole lot of it.
âFreak off, we donât want you here.â Taehyun speaks as monotonously as ever, refusing to show any sort of amusement as he swats your hand away from cooing him any further.
Thatâs when you realise you havenât greeted Kai yet, turning your head around to see..eyes?
The blonde is rocking a completely different hair cut now, bangs messily trimmed to give him style but also a cleaner look and with more volume than he ever has- it suits him really well you must admit, like the hotties youâd see in the skate parks, except his innocently charming eyes really are the cherry on top.
âWow Kai new haircut?! Awhh stop you look so adorable!!! You finally got rid of those overgrown bangs.â He attempts to hold back a bashful grin in front of a discerned Taehyun, waving it off as something heâs wanted to try forever when really he knows itâs because of you.
âWell Tyunnie-boo let me borrow Kai for the rest of today okay? Thanks a million!!â
You drag Kai and his belongings with you and straight in to the parking lot where your porsche you havenât used in ages was parked.
âNo lectures later right? I know itâs a bit earlier than scheduled but I might as well take you home with me now right?â
The still timid male looks away from you when he speaks in case his mind wanders off to a bunch of other naughty thoughts again.
âThatâs fine..just means we get more tutoring time in.â
Yeah, tutoring time.
Accelerating down the road and in to the hills of where the richest sector of people in your city resided in was a complete shock for Kai, watching people live in these castles theyâd call âhomeâ as you speed down in to your own pearly-gated manor.
Kai regrets wearing something so baggy now at a place like this, but thereâs not much in his closet if heâs still keen on covering that tattoo he stupidly got with his cousin Yeonjun on his 18th birthday.
âMy father may look intimidating but trust me itâs just a habit heâs picked up on from trying to be professional everywhere he goes.â Even the keys to your house is made of some sort of alloy of gold, inside revealing a couple of servants who welcome the two of you towards your fatherâs office.
Knocking gently you pry, âFather, Iâve got my little tutor friend you wanted to see so bad.â
Thereâs no response that you can hear from the room nor any sign to come in. A working servant comes over to inform you that heâs at a business meeting that wonât end until late. Great, so heâs not even here.
âI-Itâs okay, letâs just get started first!â Kai suggests, which youâre not going to object to because you were planning on it anyways, leading him to your bedroom upstairs down hallways of art and antiques.
This is it, the bedroom youâre always sending photos to him, well, kkh.txt in. The same mirror where it all started lays in the same spot as before as he follows your foot steps towards your couch and social table.
âReal talk Kai, Iâm actually going to listen this time because itâs my last shot over the next few weeks to get this down in time if I wanna pass and get my credit card back okay?â
âShould I recap what youâve done in your own time to see if itâs consolidated yet?â And fuck his voice sounds so hot when heâs concentrated..right, focus!!
By the time both of you are confident youâve covered most of the heavy content youâre exhausted and so is Kai. Hours of back and forth questions for concepts you couldnât understand finally stuck in your brain a bit better to the point you could answer most of the simple and intermediate questions. Looking at the time itâs already 7 meaning that youâve been tutored for 5 hours straight with Kai non-stop, and you feel proud of the hard work too! And a bit smarter, still not his level though.
âIâm going to take a quick bathroom break, when Iâm back weâll move on to more complicated topics and weâll wrap it up for today!â A tired Kai limps towards your bathroom but in a more comfortable mood than earlier- even his stuttering has calmed down!
And if you were being true to yourself, Kai is exactly your type, the standard really. Heâs gentle with you even when youâre frustrated, always offering to make time for you and help, and plus heâs got that begging look and monster cock combination which messes with your head so good!!
Good enough to compel you to swipe on to WinkChat to message your favourite user kkh.txt, thinking of what to type.
âSorry, donât wanna use this app anymore?â
âThink itâs best we stop this?â
None of it flows off your tongue smoothly but you settle with a short and simple âsorry.â message to him, preparing to delete the app when you hear a ping!- coming from Kaiâs phone.
And of course youâre curious! Who else could be messaging the nerd except Taehyun?-
Your eyes bat hardly at the notification,
ây/n.553 sent a message! Click to chat with her now! â¤ď¸đĽâ
Your heart sinks down to your stomach, Kai..the nerd you gave a blow job to in the middle of the library is kkh.txt ?!!!
âHope I didnât take too long-â
Seems like itâs a universal thing for everyoneâs heart to drop now because Kaiâs throat runs dry as he watches the bewildered expression on your face with his phone in your hand. It couldnât be-
âKai. YouâreâŚkkh.txt?!!!â No point in lying now is there?
âUhm wait.. I-I can explain I didnât mean to hide it from-â
âThe tattoo. Show me it.â You walk towards the stiffened Kai who canât move an inch from where heâs at by the door right now without the interception of you pushing him on to mattress of your bed.
âGo on, that dragon tattoo you have, take off the hoodie and let me see.â Heâs never heard your voice drip with so much authority; hell he canât even understand if youâre angry at him or not for hiding it from you!! The hoodie is discarded of somewhere in the corner of your room, and there it is- the damn dragon tattoo youâve been craving for ever since you saw it.
Now that you can see his full frame you can understand that everything about Kai is big; heâs towering in height, his shoulders are so broad itâs impossible to not notice now that youâve seen it even with his hoodie on, the defined muscles that runs down his abdomen and the absolute beast he doesnât know how to use, but youâre craving it real bad.
âWhat are you waiting for? Fuck me like you mean it.â Nimble hands hurry to unclasp your bra and remove your tank top, revealing your chest in front of a nervous Kai who now canât find the strength in him to answer you without moaning.
âW-what?â
âThat video you sent. Fuck me like you mean it.â
Memories rack through Kaiâs head which makes him mentally face palm at the recollection of his bold statement when he in fact does not know how to fuck nor make you feel good apart from a couple of porn videos heâs seen. He swallows the lump in his throat before looking up to you again with pleading eyes,
âCan I try eat you out?â
Remember when you said a nerd like Kai could probably eat pussy like a champ two weeks ago? Bullseye because the man is fixated between your thighs, lapping at everything you have to offer.
Swear he had no experience at all with cunnilingus yet heâs having no problems in sucking and flicking at your swollen clit with the flat of his tongue, moaning in to your folds repeatedly, every now and then having to put in some sort of comment about how good you taste with tears in his eyes; such a pussy drunk loser itâs adorable.
At some points youâre afraid heâs going to die of suffocation from how hard heâs pressing down on your thighs to keep you in place as you sit directly on top of his face, the weight of you completely over his saliva covered mouth but even when you meekly ask if he can breathe just fine all he does is press his tongue in to your further; swirling his tongue around your entrance and even finding the confidence to enter it.
âMmh!! Kai fuck!! You can-hah-touch me up here too.â
A wandering hand reaches to clasp on to Kaiâs to direct him to your chest, begging him to stimulate your perked and neglected nipples.
âFuck fuck fuck! Such a good boy, making me cum so good!â
Juices are spilling from your cunt all over a dazed Kaiâs face, still shocked from the effect of tasting you on his tongue for the first time, and if he wasnât eating you out like a starved man this time you shouldnât even start to imagine how insanely heâd try to eat you out after heâs become addicted to your taste.
A symphony of your heavy breathing and the pulsing of your folds as you catch your breath from being given the best head youâve ever received from a complete amateur is laughable, looking up to Kai with exhausted but fluttering eyes.
âI havenât made you cum yet Kai, hah, come on, rest against the pillows over there.â
Stunned and beyond words all he can do is follow your every command like a lost puppy, his hard-on longing for your touch as it twitches hungrily in his briefs.
âN-no condom?â
âSit back and relax for me okay pretty? No more questions, Iâll do all the work.â Even if youâve been eaten out by Kai you doubt you can adjust to the stretch of his cock in one go, slightly hesitating and knowing you were going to fuck yourself dumb the moment you started struggling to even fit in just the tip!!
âYouâre so big Kai, scared it might rip me.â Pain starts to overwhelm you as you sink down inch by inch on to his cock, whimpers falling out of your mouth in a mantra as you hold on to his shoulders for stability. Kaiâs completely silent with his mouth wide open; brows knitted together as he watches the way his cock disappears between your glistening folds, youâre going to fucking destroy him and he knows it, god.
Finally taking in the last couple of inches you rest for a bit, sighing as the initial pain converts in to pleasure from how full you felt, his tip poking right in to your cervix.
âLook Kai, this is how full you make me feel.â His hand reaches to brush against the imprint of the curve of his dick in your stomach, inflicting you to moan when he presses his finger against it,
âNgh, donât do that baby, I might cum too quick if you do.â The pet name only makes him twitch inside of you which erupts another moan from the sudden jerk, finally finding the energy in you to lift yourself off of him only to slam yourself right back down.
The sensation of your walls clenching around his as you lifted your hips felt like bliss- better than anything heâs seen in those x-rated movies, watching as you bounced on top of him in swift motions, the base of his cock disappearing and reappearing with every cycle of thrusts as you rode him.
A string of slick connected between your cunt and his pelvis made him moan at how lewd it was, eyes rolling back as he aids your movement with his hands- biceps flexing from hard heâs gripping on to your waist.
âAm I agh!- Better than your fleshlight hm?â
Ten times, no. A thousand times better than whatever he has rotting in his drawers right now, the warmth of your pussy sucking him in is probably the hottest thing heâs ever seen accompanied by the way your tongue starts to loll out automatically whenever his tip slams way too hard past your cervix, completely filled to the brim yet your greedy cunt still yearns for more.
Kaiâs expressions are just as youâd imagine, strands of hair messily stuck to his forehead from sweat, his mouth cutely open and unable to form any other sound except mewls and whimpers and the same usual fat tears that roll down to his reddened cheeks whenever the pleasure feels too good! <3 His eyes struggle to keep open as he furrows his brows whenever he feels the heat of your walls clench around him, you really donât know how badly he wants to just stay buried inside of you forever! ><
Your tits bounce in sync with your pace right above his eyes, watching as theyâd swing back up before you slammed down on his aching cock. Kai bites his lip as he slides a hand down to your waist, so lost in the illusion of your pussy he canât even verbalise how good he feels, instead only being able to claw at the swell of your ass as you continue to fuck yourself dumb on his cock.
Usually youâd never think of yourself as someone who loses dominance with any of your sex partners but the way Kaiâs dick turns your brain in to mush needs to be studied because youâre drooling as you continue to ride him sloppier than before.
âKaii! Shit I feel so full Iâm gonna come!â
The continuous slamming of his cockhead against the bundle of nerves the curve of his cock keeps pressing against sends shockwaves through your core, unable to keep your posture up right as you limp on to Kaiâs shoulder, biting on the penetrable skin to keep your moans in while you let him buck his hips in to you at a new angle where you can feel everything deeper, more stimulating and more raw.
âOhh fuck, w-where do I cum? shit-â Kai continues to ram in to the same sensitive bundle of nerves relentlessly to chase his own orgasm, frantically desperate to get that burning sensation of needing to release again.
âI- Iâm on the pill Kai just cum inside please!! Wanna feel full!â Within seconds Kaiâs unleashing his seed right in to your cunt, still thrusting to keep it from leaking out despite overstimulating himself in the process- you follow not too long after, unwinding and gushing over him, hot breath fanning on to his neck as you attempted to regain your energy after coming down your high.
âDid I make you feel good?â Kai asks with lustful eyes. His skin is completely flushed pink and sweating, struggling to focus his eyes on anything after the initial haze of such a strong orgasm.
Oh thereâs no doubt about that.
Professor Jenkins should be pleased to see that youâre going to ace your summer qualifying exam, because youâll be visiting this nerd all summer <3
A/N: I had to concise it down A LOT more because I genuinely think wouldâve dragged on forever if I let it, but hopefully everything lives up to the hype surrounding it esp with the teaser!!
taglist: @whoisgami , @bingsoob , @1eatlasagna , @pengningie , @angelgraphica , @sanscupid , @cutehoons02 , @cheekycountesschoi , @soupersaldz , @bamtor1sss , @strawberryshoujosundae , @gyutaepie , @bambiihee













