#< i feel bad that this is probably gonna show up in searches then

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Just now realized I wonder if Leland's last name has subconsciously been influencing my opinion of him. I mean, most the Cars characters have last names that are puns in some capacity or some sort of trait(I mean we literally have Finn. McMissile. Over here.) But Leland is just. Leland Turbo. Finn's last name is important to his caricature(er- his weaponry at least), Rod's last name is Redline, which is related to the type of car he is but also I think a bit of his personality as well, I wonder what Leland's is about.

Though, alternatively, this also simultaneously makes me even more curious about Grem and Acer, cause I understand they are technically villain thugs who's most of their role is sort of reduced to "reoccurring bad-guys so kids can keep up with knowing who we say you should root against because it's the same guys", veryyy few of the character's don't have full names. And some have full names that just aren't ever used in the movies but they exist. I mean, *every single* racer in every movie has a full nams, and all the ones from the first Cars movie(and a couple future ones) have backgrounds as well. And I mean every little background racer that you see on the track for five seconds. They got a full name. So it's interesting that Grem and Acer are just lackies that don't have one. I could maybe drag Professor Z into this but for some reason it feels more understandable to have a revealed last name and not a first name, and he's.. Zündapp. Then again. Grem and Acer are wanted in about every continent, so it probably isn't too far fetched if these are just nicknames that they sort of built up into aliases.

I may or may not have done another thing of the tags were supposed to be two sentences but now they've turned into two paragraphs again.

[swagging-back-to]

just hung up on customer service for the first time ever in my entire life because this guy kept asking over and over and over again for my checking account number despite me giving it to him a dozen times. every time it was 'no no not that number it needs to be this number' 'i literally just gave you that number' ''no no a different number' *gives the exact number he asked* 'no no that's the wrong type of number'

[suskz]

Hold me tight, keep me close

pairing: Lee Felix x fem!Reader

t/w: fluff ; hurt/comfort ; smut ; period sex ; wet and messy ; piv sex ; fingering (f!rec) ; menstrual blood ; so much blood ; reader is on her period ; Felix is so sweet and caring ; unprotected sex (don’t do that, kids) ; coming inside.

w/c: 4.5k

a/n: sorry for the late post, guys! It took me longer than I expected 😭. But it’s finally here! I really love this one, because Felix is soo caring and just what I need rn (I’m on my period y’all 🥹). It’s 2am here, I’m gonna go sleep now. Enjoy!!

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a hand gently shaking your shoulder, then a voice calling your name.

“Y/n, love.” It’s your boyfriend’s voice— deep, but soft. You shift in place, intending to stretch, and that’s when you notice a strange sensation between your legs. It’s wet.

Your eyes snap open, and you don’t even have time to think about what it could be before you sit up in bed, forcing Felix to pull his hand back, and look at the… the crime scene.

Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration—most of the blood is in your pants and only a little made it onto the sheets, but still—you stained them.

Hesitantly, you turn your head toward your boyfriend. He lifts his eyes from the blood-stained sheets to meet yours, offering a small, reassuring smile that seems to hide a hint of uncertainty.

You feel mortified. You feel the urge to cry, but nothing comes out—not a tear, not a sob.

Instead, you suck in a sharp breath, and his eyes immediately fill with concern.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, then seems to second-guess himself. “Is it okay?”

You lower your gaze and let him move closer, placing a hand on your thigh where the blood hasn’t reached, gently stroking it with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would come today.” you apologize, shame washing over you.

“You couldn’t have known,” he says kindly. “It’s okay.”

“Felix, it’s disgusting, and these are your clothes— fuck,” your voice comes out cracked. “Look at the mess I made.” You lower your eyes to the red stain on the white sheet, “Doesn’t it gross you out?”

“Hey, don’t say that,” he frowns. “It doesn’t bother me, not even a little.” He cups your face in his hands and turns it so you’ll look at him. “It happens. It’s okay, it’s just laundry—nothing to worry about.”

You look into his eyes for a few seconds, searching for any sign of doubt, and nod at his words when you find none. He smiles softly.

“You go take a shower now,” he runs a gentle hand through your hair. “I’ll go buy you some pads, okay?”

You nod again. “Thank you,” you smile, grateful to have such a caring and understanding boyfriend. “Do you want me to show you a picture?”

“I’ve seen them so many times, I know exactly which ones they are by now.” He chuckles and you do too.

“Let’s clean this mess first—” you stop suddenly when a sharp pain hits your lower stomach and you feel warm liquid soaking through your underwear —and probably reaching the bed— eliciting a muffled groan. “No, never mind, let’s do it later.”

He watches you shift around, trying to ease the pain, feeling bad seeing you in discomfort. “No, I’ll do it. Don’t worry. I can also get the painkillers you use.”

“No, it’s okay. I can handle it until I get home.”

You don’t know why you say it, because honestly, it feels like you can’t even stand another half hour.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry.”

He nods.

But when you step out of the shower, you still find the pills on the sink —right next to some pads and clean clothes— and his thoughtfulness melts your heart.

When you leave the bathroom, he’s just finishing making the bed. He looks up at you and gives you a tender smile, a touch of pride in his eyes at the sight of you wearing his clothes.

You huff a quiet chuckle. “You know I could’ve just put on what I wore yesterday, right?”

His cheeks tint with a soft, almost imperceptible blush. “Yeah, I know. But I wanted to see you in mine. You look cute.” He smiles sweetly.

Then he comes over, wrapping his arms around you in a warm hug and pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. You stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, in comforting silence.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” you say for what feels like the hundredth time, but he shakes his head.

“No more of that. I already told you—it’s all okay. The bed’s clean, and I can always get new clothes. See? No big deal.”

You hum and snuggle a little closer to him.

“I love you,” he says suddenly, his ears turning a little red at the words he’s still not quite used to saying.

You look up at him, a little surprised but happy to hear it. “I love you too,” you reply, your face flushed. He gives you a soft peck on the lips, and the two of you just look at each other for a while.

But that quiet moment is cut short by a sudden noise.

Your face burns with embarrassment, your ears flaming as you hide in his chest.

Felix’s laughter only makes it worse.

“Hungry?”

“What do you think? I haven’t had breakfast yet.” You mumble, your voice muffled against his shirt, trying to hide your embarrassment behind a normal tone.

“Pancakes?” he suggests.

Your eyes light up at the suggestion, and you look up at him with the expression of a delighted child.

“Yes, please!”

He laughs at your eagerness and how adorable you are.

—

“Do you feel like going out with the guys? We can go another time if you’d rather.”

You and Felix are cuddled up on the couch watching TV. Your back rests against his chest, one of his hands gently stroking your stomach, while the other holds you close.

How could you say no to him? You made these plans a week ago, and you don’t want to cancel last minute just because your period started and you’re not at your best. You still look presentable, and both of you had really been looking forward to this hangout with the guys.

“No, I’m fine. I still want to go.”

Felix nods at your response. “I’ll be at your place by 3.”

And he is. You’d gone back home after lunch to get ready, and Felix came to pick you up—though not before having to wait an extra 10 minutes for you, as usual.

Now you’re at a bar with Felix, the rest of the members, and Chan’s girlfriend, whom you’ve recently grown close to.

“You should’ve seen Minho’s face when that little girl called him ‘dad.’ It was hilarious,” Seungmin grins, amused by the memory, and everyone bursts out laughing—everyone except Minho.

“I can totally picture it,” Hyunjin laughs.

“Do you really want to end up in the air fryer, Hyunjin?” Minho threatens, and Hyunjin instantly stops laughing, glancing around nervously.

“Is it because you feel old now that a kid mistook you for her dad?” you tease with a smirk. You’re one of the few people who can get away with it—just like Minho has a soft spot for Felix, he has one for you too.

Felix’s arm is wrapped around your waist, his fingers gently stroking your side as he laughs at your comment—and at the tongue Minho sticks out at you in return.

A little while later, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. You’ve had the pad on for a few hours now, and you definitely need to change it.

The restroom has three sinks and two stalls—one for men and one for women.

You stop in front of the mirror first, checking your appearance and simply taking a moment to look at yourself. Then, suddenly, a sharp cramp hits you, making you double over with your hands on your lower belly.

You should’ve brought your painkillers with you.

You huff in frustration and rest your hands on the sink, leaning on one leg. That’s when it happens. Warm liquid begins to run down your leg—your position caused your pad to shift.

Caught off guard, you straighten up, trying to keep your baggy pants from touching your thigh.

Damn these white pants. You knew you should’ve worn black jeans.

But as you head into the women’s stall, it’s impossible to keep them from getting stained. That clean white fabric turns into a dreadful shade of red.

When you pull them down and sit on the toilet, you see the full mess you’ve made on your thigh and pants, and tears begin to blur your vision. There hasn’t been a single thing today that your period hasn’t ruined.

You should’ve stayed home.

A sob catches in your throat.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but apparently, you’ve been gone a little too long, because Felix walks into the restroom, looking for you.

You try to stop crying and settle enough to answer him, but when a heavy sob escapes your throat, the tears start flowing down your cheeks again.

“Y/nie?” your boyfriend calls out, approaching the stall you’re in. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You don’t answer.

“Can you open the door for me?”

Still no response—but your sobs slowly quiet down until they stop, and finally, the door clicks open.

Since it’s just the two of you in the restroom, he opens it just enough to see you but doesn’t step in, wanting to give you space. Still, it’s so hard for him to stand there, seeing your tear-streaked face and the way your bottom lip is quivering.

“Sunshine, what’s going on?” His voice is deep but soft—reassuring.

The words die in your throat, so you lower your eyes to your pants—and he understands. You’ve already tried to clean your thigh the best you could, but there’s still some red left.

“Is that the reason? Baby, it’s okay. It happens. Nothing we can’t fix.” He offers you a gentle smile—but is surprised when fresh tears start falling down your cheeks again.

That’s when he quickly steps inside, shuts the door behind him, and kneels in front of you. His hands cup your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears—and in that moment, you’re so thankful he’s your boyfriend. He presses a soothing kiss to your forehead.

“I-I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you say, your voice cracking. “It’s just…” you sniffle, and he waits patiently, nodding. “It’s the second time today, and it’s ruining everything. And now I’ve got stained pants and all this pain, and I didn’t even bring my pills with me. I ruined the hangout, and I’m afraid I’m bothering you too.”

“You’re not annoying me—you never could. Don’t even think that, okay?” he reassures you. “I’m sorry you’re having such a hard day, love. I get how you feel, and I hate that it’s going like this. I wish I could take some of the pain away so you wouldn’t have to feel this bad.”

He places a hand on your stomach, gently stroking it, a small pout on his lips. “Is it hurting a lot?”

You nod, sniffling. There’s a dull, radiating ache that reaches down into your thighs, making it feel like they’ve been split in half. You just want to go home.

“But I can still help make your day better,” he says with a soft smile. “Let’s go back to my place and cuddle in bed. How does that sound?” he asks sweetly, and you nod, closing your eyes for a moment and leaning into his gentle touch.

“Good. No more tears now, okay? It’s going to be okay. I’m here with you.” He gives your thigh a comforting squeeze to reassure you.

Afterward, he leaves you some privacy to finish cleaning up, waiting just outside your stall. When you come out, he offers you his hoodie to tie around your waist and cover the large red stain on your pants. Then the two of you return to the others, just to say goodbye before leaving together.

At his place, you find yourself in the shower for the second time today, while he prepares a cozy spot for the two of you to spend the rest of the afternoon cuddling.

He also quietly slips into the bathroom to leave you some fresh clothes. When you get out of the shower and see them, you almost start crying again because of how thoughtful and loving he is. Out of all his clothes, he picked your favorites: a pair of soft gray sweatpants you always wear when you’re at his place, and a worn-out white shirt you often wear when you snuggle, especially after sex. There’s also a black hoodie that’s way too big on you —which is exactly why you love it— and a pair of fluffy blue socks.

When you leave the bathroom, he’s already waiting for you on the bed, and you immediately throw yourself into his arms. You stay like that for so long you lose track of the minutes—or the hours. You could stay like this for days without ever getting tired of it.

One of his hands gently rubs circles on your back while you absentmindedly scratch his arm with your nails.

“Feeling better now?”

You hum. “Yeah, much better.”

There’s a cartoon playing softly on the TV in his room, and outside, the occasional sound of cars passes by. Everything is so calm and peaceful, you don’t want to get out of bed for at least a few more days, or months—or maybe ever.

But of course, things can’t stay perfect. You let out a whine when a sharp cramp tears through your lower belly, making you squirm, your face contorting in pain. Felix coos and places a hand over the spot that hurts, tracing soothing little circles.

Damn your body.

Felix leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, then your lips—once, then again, and again. You’re not even sure how you ended up with your back on the bed and him hovering over you, but it doesn’t really matter.

He starts leaving sensual kisses down the side of your neck, trailing lower until he reaches the hem of the hoodie you’re wearing.

Then his lips brush against your ear.

“You know, I heard orgasms help with period cramps.”

He bites your earlobe gently.

“Wanna give it a try?”

Then he licks and sucks it. He doesn’t give you time to answer before his lips crash onto yours again. Both of his hands slip under your hoodie and T-shirt, finding your hot skin.

“Please, baby? I really need you,” he says softly, needily.

But he quickly notices your hesitation and pulls his hands out from under your clothes.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you admit, avoiding eye contact. “It’s just… we’ve never done it while I was on my period, and I’m scared the blood might gross you out.”

But he gently takes your chin and lifts your face to look at him.

“Baby, I’m not a kid. A little blood doesn’t scare me,” he says confidently. “And it definitely doesn’t gross me out—especially when it’s from you.”

You smile, then nod. “Okay, then I want to.”

He gives you a kiss on the lips before getting up to grab a towel, which he lays under you to avoid a mess neither of you will want to clean up later.

You undress each other quickly, down to just your underwear. He kisses your stomach, just below your belly button, while his fingers toy with the waistband of the boxers —his boxers— you’re wearing. “Can I?” he asks, checking that you haven’t changed your mind, and you answer with a quiet, “Yes.”

He pulls your underwear off quickly and tosses them to the floor like he always does—only this time, they hit the floor with a weird thud because of the pad, making you cringe.

His fingers move skillfully between your folds, teasing you before slipping two inside, making you gasp—and he lets out a low groan. His fingers might be short, but they hit that sweet spot just right, and he knows exactly how to work it, making your hips buck against his hand in pleasure.

He adds a third finger. “Feels good, baby? You like my fingers inside you?”

You nod quickly. “Yes,” you moan.

You try not to focus on the squelching sound, aware that it’s louder because of the blood. You don’t even dare to look down, afraid of seeing his fingers stained red or the mess probably already soaking into the towel.

“Felix, can you— please touch my clit too?” you ask, voice soft and shaky.

He smiles, clearly happy you’re telling him explicitly what you want. And he’d be lying if he said seeing your innocent face and hearing that shy little request didn’t make his cock twitch.

He lets a string of spit fall from his mouth onto your pussy, collecting it with the thumb of his free hand and bringing it right to your clit. He rubs in slow circles —side to side, up and down— knowing exactly how you like it.

“Good girl… just keep telling me what you want, yeah?”

“Can- can you…” You gesture toward your tits, and he gets it, chuckling.

“Wanna feel my mouth on these pretty nipples?” You nod, and he doesn’t waste a second—licking and sucking just the way that has you writhing under him.

Your eyes roll back and you let out breathy, broken moans, completely overwhelmed by how good it all feels—by all the attention he’s giving your body.

He pulls back for a moment. “Gonna make you cum on my fingers first—then I’m gonna fuck you nice and deep.”

And just like that, he picks up right where he left off.

Felix is so hard in his underwear he thinks he’s going to lose his mind if his cock doesn’t get touched soon. He tries to grind against the bed, but it’s difficult from his current position. So instead, he finds your leg and starts grinding against it, moaning around your nipple.

When you realize what your boyfriend is doing, you feel even closer to the edge. He’s really getting off on hearing and watching you fall apart.

“Lix, I’m close. I’m so close—”

His fingers move faster, both inside you and over your puffy clit, and within seconds you’re coming on his hands, rolling your hips against his fingers as he keeps moving to help you ride out your orgasm.

When the intense wave fades, your hips collapse onto the bed. His touch leaves you for a moment as he wipes his fingers clean, then he’s back—kissing your lips, your nose, your forehead like he can’t stop touching you.

His hips have also stopped rutting against your leg.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his deep voice soothing.

“Really good. Felt good,” you murmur in response. He intertwines his fingers with yours as you start sharing soft, chaste kisses. You both smile into them, and at one point, you even huff a quiet laugh through your nose.

“It turned me on, seeing you grind against my leg,” you say after a little while, placing your free hand on his cheek, then slowly sliding it down toward his chest.

“Yeah?” he says with a smirk, but the blush on his cheeks betrays him. “Watching you feel that good made me so hard I couldn’t wait anymore. But it still hurts…” He takes your hand and, locking eyes with you, guides it slowly down to where he’s hard beneath the fabric. His breath hitches the second your palm presses against him.

You start stroking him slowly. Eventually, your hand slips inside his boxers to feel him bare, and you pull him out, stroking him gently from base to tip, giving a slight squeeze at the head that draws a strangled moan from him.

“You’re so hard, Felix,” you whisper against his lips. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”

“Yes, please,” he breathes, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“Then why are you holding back? Fuck me like you mean it.” You squeeze his cock a little harder before letting go. Every trace of shyness is gone now, replaced by something bolder, now that it’s not just sweet and loving and all about you.

Felix whimpers involuntarily. He’d used every ounce of self-control not to bury himself inside you the moment you came. He didn’t want to overstimulate you and wanted to give you time to recover, but apparently, that’s not what you want anymore.

“Gonna enter you now, okay?” he warns, lining his cock up with your entrance. One nod from you is all it takes, and he’s sliding in with a single thrust, letting out a guttural moan. “So wet ‘n tight f’ me…”

When he starts moving, he seems more sensitive than usual, judging by the breathy moans and gasps he lets out. His hips don’t settle into a steady rhythm—his thrusts are fast and shallow, showing just how needy he’s been this whole time.

His hands, planted on either side of your head, are clutching the sheets tight in his fists. One of your hands grabs his arm, sliding down until your fingers find his, and when he notices, he intertwines them with yours. He rests his forehead in the crook of your neck and takes a deep breath.

His thrusts grow longer and deeper—pushing all the way in, pulling out just barely, then slamming back inside with force.

When you bring a hand to his hair, he starts kissing and licking your neck, sometimes sucking on your skin hard enough to leave marks that’ll be hard to hide—though deep down, he hopes you’ll keep them.

Your soft, high-pitched moans are something he could listen to for days. Your whimpers make his cock twitch and leak inside you. Your teary eyes are so damn beautiful, he could stare at them forever.

When he pulls back to look at you, his breathing is uneven, and his moans sharper than before. He’s close.

But he’s holding back for you, because he wants to make you come on his cock first.

God, your boyfriend is so sweet.

You clench around him, and he shuts his eyes to focus.

“Don’t do that, or I’m gonna cum,” he begs, desperate.

“You can come, Lix, it’s okay,” you reassure him, but you know that won’t be enough to make him give in. “I want you to fill me up nice and deep. I’m ready to take everything you’ve got, want to be so full of you,” you continue, hitting a weak spot of his.

His orgasm hits him suddenly, his cock spurting ropes of hot cum deep inside you. He gives a few more thrusts to ride it out, then collapses on top of you.

“Not fair,” he pouts when he finally lifts himself up and looks at you.

“You said that on purpose ‘cause you knew it’d make me cum. I wanted to make you cum on my cock.”

How can someone sound and look so innocent while saying such filthy things?

You laugh. “Next time.”

He pulls out of you slowly, carefully.

“My girl’s gonna cum, whether it’s on my cock or on my fingers.”

This time, he spits on your pussy, even though it’s not needed—you’re already soaked from everything you’ve done. Two of his fingers find your clit again, red and puffy, moving in small circles that knock the air right out of your lungs.

Those same fingers suddenly dip down to your entrance, collecting some of the cum that’s leaking out, only to slap it onto your most sensitive spot. You gasp and clutch the sheets in your fists.

He starts rubbing again, only to slap your clit twice more. His other hand grabs your thigh firmly and presses it down against the bed, as if to force your legs open—even though there’s no need, since you’re already holding them wide for him.

“You’ve been a bad girl, making me come like that. That should’ve been my job,” he says, landing a harder slap. “Let this be a lesson so you’ll think twice next time.”

The sudden change in his behavior has your head spinning. His two fingers pinch your clit a couple of times before resuming fast, precise strokes.

“Felix—” you choke out. You want to warn him that you’re about to come, but your climax hits you too suddenly, tearing a very loud moan from your throat.

You black out for a moment, completely lost in sensation—and you’re grateful to come back to Felix kissing your neck sweetly and whispering soft praises.

You appreciate the affection he’s giving you, but you gently press your hands to his shoulders to push him back a little. “Lix, ‘m hot.”

He pulls back and lifts his head. “But I wanna cuddle,” he protests, nuzzling into the top of your chest and trying to kiss your skin there.

You sigh. “We will, but after a shower. I feel too sticky and gross right now.”

Felix nods and finally moves away. “I’ll go get the water ready,” he says, then gets up from the bed and heads to the bathroom—but not before bringing you a glass of water and some chocolate, which you accept with a kiss on the lips.

In the meantime, you finally glance down at the mess beneath you and scrunch your nose, wishing you hadn’t. You clean yourself up as best you can with the cleanest part of the towel, then grab it and make your way to the bathroom, tossing the towel into the laundry basket before joining your boyfriend.

You step into the shower together, and even though you told him you’d cuddle afterward, he spends the entire time touching and kissing you—if not on the lips, then everywhere else. His lips are soft, and his hands are gentle.

He shampoos your hair and massages your scalp delicately, and you do the same for him. His fingers slip inside you again, but this time it’s just to clean you up from his cum, as he murmurs apologies for the mess he made—not that he’s truly sorry, and you both know it.

When you get out of the shower, he lands a loud smack on your ass, making you gasp softly and slap his in return when he bends over to grab a pair of socks from the wardrobe drawer.

Once you’re both dressed and sitting on his bed, his arms wrap tightly around you, locking you in and pulling you close with no way out—not that you’d want to leave anyway.

You turn on the TV and find a comfortable position under the warm blankets.

Your back is pressed against his chest, which rises and falls slowly with his breath. One of his hands rests gently on your lower belly, stroking it softly.

“Feeling better now?”

“Yeah.” You snuggle even closer. “Much better.” You smile, resting your head on his shoulder with your face tucked into his neck. You press a small kiss to his skin before closing your eyes, soothed by his familiar, calming touch and the quiet sound of the TV still playing in the background.

You feel so loved and safe in his arms that there’s nothing to worry about when he’s with you—because you know he’ll always be there, ready to help you without judgment, staying by your side no matter what.

[callalillywrites]

Allergies and Cuddles

Allergies have been kicking my butt lately. Height of that came a couple days ago when high winds really pushed around a lot of dirt and pollen. All I wanted was a nap and someone to cuddle with. Hence, the creation of this story.

Who better to cuddle up with than two super soldiers?

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky) x Female Reader

Word Count: ~1800

Summary: Steve comes home to find you curled up on the couch with Bucky, napping to reduce the affects of your allergies. Fluff and more cuddles ensue in this slice of life piece.

Warnings: Slightly worried Steve and Bucky; (over)protectiveness activated; comforting each other; teasing; established relationship; lots of fluff; Steve POV

A/N: As stated above, this story was wholly inspired and written quite quickly, so any and all mistakes are my own. Just wanted a bit of fluff to make myself feel better and this is what came out of that.

Stucky Masterlist | Main Masterlist

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

A too-quiet apartment greeted Steve when he came home that evening.

When he would've called out, his enhanced hearing picked up the faintest of hums. Following it, he soon found himself upon a scene that tugged at his heartstrings.

Bucky lounged across their over-sized sofa with you laying across him, completely dead to the world. If he squinted, Steve could almost imagine the thinnest, cutest line of drool seeping from your slightly parted lips onto Bucky's shirt. One of your arms rested somewhere between yours and Bucky's body, but the one Steve could see had sneaked its way under Bucky's shirt, caging Bucky under you. No doubt you sought the warmth of his skin, something you often did when you weren't feeling well.

While you slept, Bucky had one arm draped protectively across you while the other held one of his favorite books. The book had pages threatening to leave what little binding kept them in the right place, but that never stopped Bucky from picking it up again and again. From the looks of this one, Steve would be searching out a replacement soon enough. Bucky's gaze would drift over to you every other line or so, just because he could.

The TV played some show that you'd gotten into recently, replaying one of the older episodes. The volume turned down low so it wouldn't bother your rest. Knowing you as he did, you probably had it up while you fought to stay awake, leaving Bucky to lower it once you were completely out.

Leaning against the wide opening from the hallway, Steve crossed his arms and just enjoyed the scene before him. If he had his sketchpad, he might've taken up residence in the nearby chair and sketched until he had both of you permanently down on paper, a memory no one could take from any of you. But, he didn't so he settled for mentally drawing this moment to revisit later.

"You gonna keep staring at us, or you actually gonna say something, punk?"

"Admiring the view." Steve pushed off the wall and crept closer, taking care not to disturb your slumber. "How long has she been out?"

Bucky closed his book though his attention focused solely on you for a moment. The arm holding you drew soothing patterns on your back as he mumbled, "About an hour or so. Found her trying to fall asleep at her desk in the office."

Sinking into a squat, Steve dropped a quick kiss on Bucky's forehead before turning his full attention on you. He could make out your red, slightly swollen nose as well as the puffiness that lingered around your eyes. The softest snores left you, telling him that your allergies had truly gotten the best of you.

"Her meds not working?"

Bucky shook his head. "I don't think she's been keeping up with them like she should. Her bottle's almost full, and it's almost a month old."

Steve's brows drew together. It wasn't a secret that your allergies could get bad, and you were usually on top of taking your medication to keep them from overwhelming you. Plus, you knew they worried about you whenever you weren't feeling up to your usual self.

"She took some before I made her lay down with me." Bucky's voice broke through Steve's thoughts. His own worry peeked through despite usually being the more level-headed of the group when it came to these matters. "Maybe it wouldn't be the worst to take her in and see if there's something a bit stronger out there. Nothing over the counter seems to help her anymore."

"I'll call Dr. Cho." Steve pushed to his feet, pulling his phone from his back pocket. "If she can't help, then she'll know who we can talk to."

"Tell her our girl didn't sleep well last night either. She tossed and turned pretty good. I'm that didn't help."

"Or you two can stop worrying and just let me sleep for a little longer," you groused, having been roused by your bladder to hear your boyfriends fretting. "It's the wind. Once it stops blasting away and blowing pollen around, I'll be back to normal."

"Sweetheart," Steve started.

Having had this conversation before, you lifted your head until your gaze could meet his. A steely determination stole over your features that had Steve stopping in his tracks.

"I'm going to be fine," your tone softened as you moved to capture Bucky's eye as well, "I promise."

"One week," Steve vowed.

You nodded, knowing he meant it. One week to get better, or they'd be taking you to the doctor. The last thing they wanted was to lose you when they'd worked so hard to rebuild their lives after having their old ones ripped away from them.

"Now, that's settled," you pushed up from your position against Bucky, "I'm going to the bathroom. Then, we're going to discuss dinner. I'm too gross to be touching food, so I'll let you two roshambo to see who's got kitchen duty tonight."

The bedroom door had barely closed behind you when Bucky turned towards Steve. His expression morphed into one of the softest looks he kept solely for his two loves. "Don't worry about it. It's my turn to cook anyway. Besides, you look like you could use some of her cuddles."

"You sure?" Steve couldn't help asking.

While the day hadn't been bad per se, it hadn't been a great one, either. So many reports had been perched on his desk first thing. All needed his immediate approval before missions could move forward. Sure, that was typically either Fury's or Hill's job, but they'd both gone on some mysterious vacation, leaving him to handle it.

Then, there'd been a small crisis or two where Tony's latest invention had gone a bit awry. It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't set Banner off, transforming him into the Hulk. A quick call in to Nat had helped, but it'd taken some time for Hulk to fully retreat and allow Banner the chance to return.

To say Steve was a bit wired would be an understatement.

Bucky tapped his shoulder, pulling Steve from his thoughts. "Yeah, I'm sure. Let her help you."

As if summoned, you stepped out of the bedroom. Your appearance looked a bit more put-together than it had when Steve first arrived home. Hair dampened and your face scrubbed. While your eyes still retained a bit of puffiness, they remained bright and alert as you closed the distance between you and Steve.

A cheeky smile flitted over your features as you asked, "Bucky lose, or did you pull rank on him?"

"He offered actually," Steve huffed, shooting you his best glare.

It had little effect as usual, but that didn't mean he didn't try now and then.

Your fingers slid between his and gently tugged him closer.

He went willingly.

His free hand dropped to your waist when you rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his jaw. Your gaze roved over his features. A soft frown formed as you murmured, "You're looking a little piqued yourself. Off day?"

"Something like that, sweetheart."

A soft noise escaped you. Your hand tightened around his as you tugged him toward the couch.

"Koala or weighted blanket?"

Steve's entire being sagged at the way you so easily read him. He honestly had no clue what he'd do without you and Bucky in his life, and he really didn't want to find out.

Bending slightly, he pulled his hand out of yours so he could grip you around the waist and lift. Your arms and legs wrapped around him without hesitation, allowing him to do what he wanted most. He dropped onto the couch, his legs stretching out on the floor. His arms snuck around you to hold you as close as he possibly get you while his head sank to your shoulder.

Your fingers inched their way up his neck until they scraped against and through his hair. Soft kisses pressed into his shoulder and neck where you could reach within the cocoon of his arms.

"I'm sorry," you whispered at some point, breaking the silence that had settled between you. "I'll do better about taking my allergy meds. It's just been a crazy week, and I hadn't meant to forget. It honestly didn't hit me that I had until the winds kicked up a few days ago. Please, don't worry about me."

Steve tightened his hold. "Always gonna worry about you, sweetheart. That's what you do when it's the people you love."

"Okay, that's a fair point, but I'm still going to do better. I don't want you to worry unnecessarily." You pulled back enough to meet his gaze. In the same cheeky tone as earlier, you added, "How's that?"

"Better," he murmured, shaking his head and huffing with pure affection.

You must've been satisfied because your cheekiness turned impish. "You are quite tense, Captain, and Bucky missed his workout because of me. It seems only fair after dinner that we have a special training session. Get all these kinks worked out and make sure you both stay in top physical form. What do you say?"

As if to further your suggestion, you wiggled in his lap until Steve moved his hands to grip your hips. A groan slipped past his lips when you managed to wriggle once more before he could fully keep you still.

Stealing a quick but searing kiss, Steve's grin grew. "I'd say I hope you've kept up your stretching routine, sweetheart, because it's going to be a long training session tonight. May even last until the early morning before I'm fully relaxed."

"Oh, my poor Captain," you crooned sweetly, pressing a kiss to his lips. "We won't stop until you and Bucky are fully satisfied."

"And what about you, sweetheart?"

"Oh, don't worry about me," you pressed another quick kiss to his lips before trailing down his jaw towards his neck, "I know I'll be properly taken care of in more ways than one tonight. My two super soldiers never let me down."

"Damn right, we don't," Bucky said from the doorway. "Dinner's ready. Better eat up fast because that special training starts in an hour."

Steve let you scoot out of his lap after claiming one last kiss, patting your butt as you moved towards the kitchen.

You tossed Bucky a salute, saying, "Yes, sir, Sergeant."

Steve's heart had never felt so full as he watched Bucky sweep you up, your giggles spilling out as you traded kisses with him before he sat you like the precious being you were in your spot. All three places had been set while he'd held you with the small candelabra his mother had left him burned brightly with the new candles you'd chosen a few weeks ago.

Home.

He was home.

[seraphicloves]

𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝟏𝟔𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐞

⊱✿⊰ summary: headcanons with overblot gang and a flirtatious s/o

⊱✿⊰ warnings: flirting, pick up lines, idia explodes /j, lwk cringe, gender neutral reader, reader could be yuu or anyone really, requested

⊱✿⊰ notes: fire request gang, hope this is to your standards :) (also i need more twst requests & friends. nobody seems to wanna be mutuals 😓 prolly my fault tho im ngl)

riddle rosehearts:

❀ he is barely used to having romantic relations, so it is hard for him to process that you're so...vocally affectionate. he's used to zero affection, even with his own way of showing love to be reserved. so he can be surprised by your brazen behavior

❀ you turn his face red easily with a sultry tone and a well placed glance to his lips. somebody he cares about romantically, saying those sort of things? riddle is sure his face is on fire and his heart is pounding loud enough for rsa to hear

❀ everybody lwk makes fun of him for getting flustered so easily. even your cringy pick up lines make him act like you dropped a knee and proposed.

❀ he loves how flirtatious you are, even if it makes him totally shy. he admires it in a way, how you're so bold and confident. you're unafraid of your desires, something riddle wished he could relate to.

leona kingscholar

❀ he is also a flirt, but in like a lazy way yk? he doesn't put effort into flirtation, no pickup lines or properly romantic lines. he just gives you a sexy smirk, and says something sweet while being totally casual

❀ its hard to fluster him, at least outwardly. the most you'll get out is a slight flush and a laugh if you say something especially flirty. however internally, he is totally freaking out and like so happy.

❀ if you say a dumb pickup line, he will call it dumb. and without any sort of shame or feeling bad. he calls it like it is.

"are you my homework? because i am gonna do you on the table all night long."

he gives you the -_- and says, "where did you see that line? how to make your boyfriend cringe?"

❀ he is also incredibly territorial so he will get jealous if you flirt with someone else, even if unintentionally. he will wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you flush aganist him. making sure everybody knows who gets you in their bed every night.

azul ashengrotto

❀ he is also part of the flustered gang, since he is typically very professional behaving. he is almost incapable of saying something flirty, despite how usually charismatic he might seem.

❀ i feel like he would try to flirt back, thinking like its your way of showing love so he wants to do it as well. he'd search up pick up lines and try them out on you:

"are you my library card? because im always checking you out." (yes it is as cringy as it seems.)

❀ he might get a little jealous if you start flirting (unintentionally) with someone else, mostly because he has rather terrible self esteem. azul is insecure in himself, often wondering if you would be better with somebody else. so be sure to reassure him!

❀ he might also use your flirty nature for his business pursuits. get you to flirt with some customers,especially with your beauty, and he is sure to get some more profit. also he might feel a little jealous, he knows you are helping with the monstro lounge so its okay!

jamil viper

❀ i feel like he could also be very flirtatious if he was feeling up for it. jamil can be silver tongued, but its really only when he isn't too exhausted from kalim's ridiculous behavior. so yeah, he could give you a run for your money if he wanted to.

❀ he's probably not going to get jealous, mainly because he knows who you go to at the end of the day. if you are his s/o, he has enough faith that you would not leave him on a whim so mild flirting doesn't bother him.

❀ jamil mostly flirts through words of praise. he is very full of praise and compliments, which normally would sound like total bullshit but he makes it sound sincere enough your toes curl. he also just has a lovely voice, deep and sultry with that slight curl that makes your heart race. he would be perfect for reading audio books.

❀ he gets amused by your flirty behavior, with your affection and words. he especially loves hearing you compliment him, filling him with a delicious sense of pride. jamil has an ego, which he loves to get bigger because of you

vil schoenheit

❀ he is going to be a master flirt. he knows how to make somebody blush with a few calculated moves. he's an actor and he's very smart, of course he knows how to flirt. he probably flirts more than you, it might be so ingrained in him that he flirts unintentionally.

❀ he doesn't get jealous simply because he also acts similarly. he understands it is a part of your personality and you wouldn't be unfaithful with him. he sort of sees it as the public's you, and he gets to have the real you. even if flirting is still in your nature, he gets to see past the polite smiles and small talk.

❀ he might even give you tips on how to better seduce the people around you. he doesn't mean to be critical, he just wants you to be the very best version of yourself. so he (very gently) shows you ways to be more sultry and romantic, to make everybody weak in the knees. if he was particularly bored, he might even silently rate your performance.

❀ he is probably the best person to be more flirtatious around. he is able to let your personality shine free without any sort of complications.

idia shroud

❀ if vil is the best, idia might be the worst. when he gets flustered, he closes in and runs away. so you probably have to chase him down whenever you say something particularly swoonworthy.

"stop! i'm overloading, i need a break to cool down!"

"all i did was hug your arm and kiss you!"

❀ he might also call your flirting "cringe" even if its not. like, he totally pretends like he thinks being all flirty and PDA is so not cool (but inside he squeals like a little girl). idia can't help it, he's programmed to reject things that make him nervous!

❀ okay i think after a while of dating him, and he gets more comfortable around you (and more comfortable being flustered around you) he might try out a line or two. but instead of something random like azul, he makes them focused to your interests. like whatever fandoms you are in, he finds (or makes) pick up lines related to it.

❀ i think idia would play more otome games just to practice flirting so he can try to get on the same level as you. he wants to be as confident and collected as you, so what better way than to practice digitally? he doesn't hide the fact he is playing otome games, he just might hide the fact its so he can learn to make you blush.

malleus draconia

❀ he rarely even picks up on your flirty behavior. like he knows how it makes him feel but he assumes that is how everybody behaves when you say stuff. his heart racing? oh yeah thats the usual sort of thing when [name] is around. he doesn't fully understand the whole intention behind it.

❀ yeah...i'm gonna say you might need to rein in flirting with other people. malleus will either get mad jealous or he will get sad, thinking you are trying to be unfaithful. so reassure him and try to keep those bedroom eyes away from anybody but your man.

❀ he is also flirty in the sense of how wholeheartedly romantic he is. bro puts his whole malleussy into loving you. he follows you around like a lost puppy, eyes constantly shining with pure adoration. you consume him entirely and he is unafraid of letting the world know.

❀ malleus has probably said some crazily romantic things without even realizing it wasn't the norm. he has said he will marry you, he has compared your beauty to the moon shining over the ocean. he becomes a poet when it comes to loving you.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[loveinhawkins]

Steve grabs the bag before Eddie can. “No, I’ve got it.”

Eddie glances at the transparency of the plastic bag: the outline of his battle vest pokes through it, neatly folded.

He sidesteps the rest of the group as they troop out of the RV. Steve’s still standing his ground by the driver’s seat.

“Uh, Steve, I can see what’s in there. That’s mine.”

“Yeah, but—” Steve huffs, still holding the bag tightly, and he almost seems… embarrassed. “Like, just. Don’t look at it right now, I’ve got it. I’m gonna dry clean it. Later, I mean.”

Eddie laughs. But Steve remains deadly serious.

“Uh, that’s nice and all, but I don’t think dry cleaning gets out… um, blood and…” Eddie pokes his head out the RV door, to where the kids are hauling weapons and tanks of lighter fluid with Robin and Nancy—a sight he steadfastly tries to ignore before he panics ad nauseam—and asks, “What’s your word for, uh, Upside Down related, uh, you know—”

“Slime?” Lucas offers.

“Sludge,” Erica corrects.

“Goop,” Max says decisively.

“Shit,” Dustin says.

Eddie nods. “Helpful, thanks.”

He turns back. He’d intended for all that to get Steve to crack a smile at least, but if anything, he looks worse; the expression on his face has shifted into evident guilt.

“Steve,” Eddie says, caught between being amused and… honestly, touched. “Relax. It’s fine, man.”

Steve keeps frowning. “But it was—”

“—not important.”

Steve huffs again, like he’s saying don’t lie.

Eddie changes tack. He hasn’t missed the fact that Steve’s change of clothes from The War Zone means that, sure, less skin’s on show, which is probably better for Eddie’s heart but, more importantly, his bandages are ‘conveniently’ concealed—which is decidedly less good for Eddie’s heart, so maybe they both cancel each other out.

If ever there was the time for sincerity…

“Maybe I care less about the damn vest, and more about the person wearing it.”

The pinch in Steve’s brow lessens. “Oh,” he says, soft, and then a little of his usual bravado comes back when he asks, “you sure?”

Eddie waggles a hand back and forth. “Kinda. It’s borderline.”

Steve chuckles. He puts the bag down on his seat, very carefully, as if it’s breakable, and Eddie’s heart does a little skip.

“Well. I still feel bad,” Steve insists. His tone’s light, but he fixes Eddie with a pointed look, don’t test me on this, Munson, ‘cause my stubbornness will win.

“Okay,” Eddie concedes, hands up in surrender. “Tell you what, Steve. What if I wore something of yours, to make it even?”

Steve wrinkles his nose, but he’s smiling. “What, and deliberately mess it up?”

Eddie nods gravely. “Like, it’s not quite Upside Down conditions, but whenever I cook, it gets pretty close.”

Steve’s smile grows. He makes a show of turning around in search of something.

“Huh, I must’ve forgot to pack my wardrobe.”

Eddie clicks his tongue in theatrical disapproval. “Yeah, that’s a pretty big oversight, dude, should’ve thought it through.”

“Guess it’ll have to wait for next time.”

And yeah, they’re joking, but still. Eddie doesn’t want to tempt fate.

“Next time? Nah, I’m praying all this shit is a one time thing.”

“No, I meant—” Steve hesitates, like he’s inadvertently stepped out of the joke, and he doesn’t know where to go from here. “Like. Whenever you come round.”

“Is that an invitation?” Eddie says; he hopes the quip is enough to cover his surprise, the long-buried thought—ridiculously high school, but true in spite of it: no-one’s ever invited me to…

Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, sorry, did you want it hand-written? The red carpet treatment?”

“Well, if you’re offering…”

“I’ll go get my quill,” Steve deadpans.

Eddie laughs. Says, only partly kidding, “It’s just, I’ll need some time to think it over.”

“The… invitation?”

“What item of clothing I’m taking, duh.”

“Right, yeah,” Steve scoffs, “major decision.”

“It is! You have whole ensembles, man.”

“Ensembles,” Steve echoes, but it’s got more of a French accent to it; Eddie suspects it’s a by-product of Steve helping Robin study, ‘cause she seems to be the only one who’s a polyglot in their contingent. “Get out of town, Munson.”

“Oh, like you don’t know. I swear, in winter, there’d be actual bets placed on what sweater you were gonna wear each day.”

“Uh-huh.”

Eddie hams it up, “Didn’t you wonder why so many girls were waiting to see you drive into school?”

“You’re an idiot,” Steve says, and he waves Eddie aside, about to jump out of the RV. “Lemme know when you’ve made your selection.”

Eddie knows he should leave it there. They’ve had their laughs, and it’s made to be forgotten about in the face of much more important things.

But that’s always been his problem, really. He can’t bite his tongue in time. He can’t help—

“The red one?”

Steve turns around, one foot off the step. “What?”

“The, uh…” Eddie clears his throat. It’s either say nothing or go all in. Fuck it, the shire’s burning. “I’ve decided what to—um. The red sweater?” Steve just keeps looking at him, so he adds, tentatively, “The one you’d wear near winter break?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know the one you mean.” He falters on the verge of speech, his lips twitching into a surprised little smile. He drawls, “You sure you weren’t placing those bets yourself, Munson?”, but it doesn’t sound mean, and his ears suddenly look a little pink, and maybe, maybe—

“No comment,” Eddie says, aiming for comically flat, but Steve’s smile is contagious.

“Okay, it’s a deal.” Steve steps outside—throws over his shoulder, “It’s yours,” oddly sincere; and Eddie wonders if they’ve really been talking about clothes at all.

[doeeyeddiva]

soft for me — rafe cameron

a/n: first post!! this will be a series …. it didn’t start off as one but then I was like oh I can see this going places ;p this is also my first time writing in a while … hope someone enjoys it cuz I was giggling and kicking my feet writing it <3 I already have part 2 ready hehe....

warnings: age gap, younger reader (20), rafe in his 30s, kinda a sugar baby/sugar daddy vibe but not quite. rafe being a bit manipulative. no smut though, mostly just plot.

wc: 2k

you weren’t always focused on the road—you should’ve been—buuut, your thoughts had a habit of taking the wheel. one minute you’re wondering if you locked the front door, the next you’re trying to remember if you even brought your wallet. then you’re digging around, half-driving, half-searching.

can’t find it.

so now you’re spiraling. is this gonna be the time you get pulled over? if it is, you should probably have your lip combo ready—just in case you need to flirt your way out of it. and just like that, you’re in your head. not in your lane. not on the road. and then, a thump.

more like a crunch, like the metal of your car folding in on itself.

you could practically feel your heart fall out of your chest, you’d just rear ended someone’s very, very nice benz. poor you—you didn’t even realize it was a brand new 2025. “shit.” you whispered, eyes going shut for a moment.

on the other end of this little incident was rafe cameron.

“fuck!” he practically yelled out loud. his hand was lazily wrapped around the wheel before the car jerked forward. he was pissed, evident in how hard he was clenching his jaw. “are you fuckin’ serious?” he grumbles to himself, trying to get a glimpse of whoever just wrecked his car.

he was already running late for a meeting with a potential partner, and it wasn’t even the fact that he’d be late that pissed him off—it was the fact he’d be showing up in a busted car. no, absolutely not. he can’t show up like that, in that.

when the light turned green, he veered into the right lane and pulled over with so much speed it was unnecessary. he was revving too hard only to brake even harder a moment later.

you swallowed the lump in your throat and followed, your knuckles going white from how hard you were gripping the wheel. you felt so stupid, so desperate to turn back time and just, pay attention.. you’d never even been in an accident before, let alone one where it was entirely your fault. above all that, you were a mere college student, who spent half her paycheck on matcha lattes, incessant trinkets, and sephora sprees—you couldn’t afford an increase in your car insurance, even if you’d cut back on your spending.

as you pull up behind him, examining the damage, you tell yourself, “it isn’t that bad,” but you failed to understand that this was rafe cameron, and this car was a new addition to his collection—a collection of cars that he kept so insanely pristine, just as the day he bought them.

his door aggressively swings open, and he’s already storming towards you, tall, broad, and incredibly pissed. his brows were knit together, his jaw was clenched, but he was incredibly handsome.

“how fucking stupid do you have to be to hit me at a full stop,” his voice raises, getting louder with each step he makes closer. “do you even know how to–“ he pauses, just for a moment, his words faltering as he gets a good look at you; legs crossed nervously, a pout over your lips, all apologetic and gorgeous.

his jaw is still tight, but not from anger. it's more like his thoughts had shifted entirely, into something slightly more perverted.

“i know, i know—i’m so sorry,” you fumbled, backing towards your car, “i have my ID and insurance in here somewhere, gimme a second.” you bent into the driver’s seat, opening up your center console and rummaging around for what you needed. naturally, his eyes follow down your ass, then your legs, and he tries to get another look at your face before you find what you need and make your way towards him.

he goes dead silent. he doesn’t say a word—doesn’t even care to grab your insurance, just your ID, his eyes aiming straight for your date of birth. he reads the year.

twenty. you’re only twenty.

“tsk,” he shakes his head, holding back a smirk. “you’re not even old enough to drink.” his sudden shift in tone makes you nervous, more than before. just a moment ago he looked ready to call an attorney for what wasn’t even a big deal. one second he was screaming at you and now he appears, almost… amused?

he looks back up at you, the ID still in his hands. he crossed his arms, a scoff escaping his lips. you try not to lose yourself in his blue eyes. “how’d you even manage this, huh? you zone out? on your phone? daydreaming about boys?”

you could hardly process what was going on, you swallowed the lump in your throat that didn’t seem to go away, your breath hitching, “i–i don’t know, i’m just–“

“you’re just what?” he pushes, “stupid?”

your eyes meet his when he says that, holding eye contact despite feeling tearful. he leaned a little closer, “admit it,” he chuckles, “you’re a stupid girl who doesn’t know how to drive. doesn’t pay attention, wrecks my car..”

it’s like he was enjoying your silence, your lack of a comeback, until you spoke up. “look,” you whisper, and though your voice was low, and trembling, it was sure. “i am sorry, but i’m not stupid.

his lips formed into a smile, and his emotions flickered, like he was surprised. “no,” he shook his head, his voice low, “you’re not stupid. just, reckless, irresponsible. that’s different.” he nodded his head slowly, like he was thinking out loud. a dramatic sigh leaves his lips, a sigh that drags on. “still gonna cost you though.”

you glare at him, looking up at his face before internally rolling your eyes. at this point you were fed up. “okay. i’ll take care of it, then. just—can i have my ID back?”

he tilts his head to the side, a grin that’s not quite innocent creeps up on his face. “no.”

“no?” your brows shot up, you could not believe him. “you’re not allowed to do that.” little did you know, he did whatever he wanted.

“then take it from me.” he holds it out of your reach. there was this smug look on his face, like he was enjoying every bit of this twisted interaction. he pauses for a moment, finding your anger a bit cute.

“relax,” he takes a beat, eyes flicking down to your ID, to your name, saying it like he needs to remember it. “i’m not gonna disappear with it. you’ll text me, i’ll go finish up my meeting, you’ll come by my office and we’ll settle this.” he explains, slipping your ID into his pocket.

“this isn’t normal.” you try to fight the situation, but he doesn’t entertain your attempts, simply pulls out a black business card from his wallet, handing it to you with two fingers. “see you soon.” he said, stepping back into his car without another word.

you’d felt sick to your stomach ever since the accident, nauseated by both embarrassment, nerves, and a confusing feeling you couldn’t quite name. perhaps it was the way he looked at you, or the way you looked at him, like someone caught doing something wrong.

you absolutely hated how you handled it, but you told yourself you were young. too young to know better, too young to know how these things were supposed to go. you hadn’t even known if you were supposed to apologize or just hand over your name and information and wait to be sued.

and now, here you were, parked at the address on the card he gave you: Rafe Cameron. Private equity.

you glance up at the building. mirrored glass, impossibly tall. the kind of place you’d usually drive past without thinking, never knowing what actually went on inside. all you knew was that buildings like this didn’t serve people like you. inside were the very rich, or people who worked themselves tirelessly for the rich.

you scan the lot, expecting to see the same car you crashed into—but it’s not there. rafe had already switched it out, sent it in for repairs like the whole thing never happened.

eventually you mustered up enough courage to get out your own car, and force yourself into the building. you awkwardly stepped inside, tapping your freshly manicured fingers against the cold marble counter, glancing at the receptionist who couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge your presence.

you clear your throat. “i’m here to see rafe cameron?” you say, ask, your voice small and uncertain. “mr. cameron?” it was clear she was attempting to correct you.

“yeah, sure. him.” a scowl appears over your face, you didn’t appreciate being undermined. one thing for rafe to do it, but for some random receptionist? it was your last straw. or on the way to being your last straw.

“do you have an appointment?”

“no, but he asked me to—,”

“well, you’ll need to make an appointment. he doesn’t just see–,”

and then, as if summoned by the gods, the elevator dings open. but in truth, he’d been watching you from his office the moment you pulled into the parking lot. he leans casually against the wall, then pushes off to prevent the elevator doors from closing with one hand. “it’s fine, i asked to see her.” and with that, you were inside the elevator with him.

you could smell him, he smelled expensive, probably tom ford.

in his office, you hover awkwardly over his desk while he sinks into his seat. you hated that he was waiting for you to say something. “my ID?” you ask, arms crossed, an impatient sigh leaving your lips. he notices your sigh—it causes him to look up at you, like you were being dramatic. he fishes into his pocket, pulling it out and placing it in front of you.

"did you file a claim yet then?”

“maybe.” he shrugs, not giving you a direct answer.

you huff and lunge for your ID. “honestly, what the hell is your problem?”

“nothing.” he responds flatly, “just annoyed that some airheaded teenage girl fucked up my new car.” his shoulders shrug. he’s like a man and a boy at the same time.

you shake your head, “okay, truthfully? fuck you. i’m not a teenage girl, i’m a broke college student who works her ass off and hasn’t slept in 3 days trying not to fail my finals. and yeah, i was zoned out and hit your car but that doesn’t give you the right to to call me names. you can do whatever you want, file it, don’t file it, i don’t care.”

well, you did care—but that was besides the point right now. you turn and walk towards the door, but before you can reach it he’s already getting up from his chair and sliding in front of the door. he places one hand up in surrender.

“okay, okay, shit. i’m sorry, alright? relax.” you pause, now you were the unamused one. you barely moved your eyes to glance at him, but even being this close, feeling the fabric of his clothing brush against you, it drove you just as mad as it drove him to be around you.

“i didn’t file the claim,” he says, voice low, like it cost him something to admit. “and i won’t.”

you just look at him, quiet and unreadable.

he glances away before speaking again. “i’ll fix your car. i’ll pay for it.”

you blink, brows pulling together, not sure if it’s confusion or surprise. “why would you do that?” you ask, not defensive, just soft. curious.

he looks down at the floor for a moment too long, like he, too, is figuring the question out himself. but deep inside, he knows the answer. “i don’t know,” he mumbles, “maybe i just don’t like the idea of you driving around in that thing.”

you have your chance to leave, to refuse his offer, and part of your mind tells you to just run, but you don’t want to leave just yet.

[lisired]

smile for the camera

pairing: haechan x (f) reader x jisung (ft. a reoccurring renjun who’s mainly there for suspenseful purposes)

genre/warnings: smut, cheating, unprotected sex, dom!haechan, switch!jisung, switch!reader, jisung is a virgin, degradation, praise, spanking, pussy slapping, sexting, rough kink, edging, really bad 3some scenes bc I am terrible @ balancing attention, oral (both m/f receiving), f I missed smth lmk

summary: upon accidentally finding a video of you and your boyfriend haechan doing some very sexual things, jisung knows that he shouldn’t watch it. he knows that it would be an extreme invasion of privacy, but he’s unable to control himself when he sees the thumbnail. so he settles for only watching 30 seconds. except, 30 seconds turns into 30 minutes, and by then he’s buried himself too deep into a life-changing situation—or in which jisung’s terrible at keeping secrets.

wored count: 19.8k of pure filfth (what the fuck is wrong with me)

author’s note: this is a repost of an oldie but goldie, i think. i hope. feedback is appreciated!

Fuck.

Jisung knows that there’s a plethora and a half reasons why this is a terrible idea. For one, it’s an invasion of privacy. The thumbnail is explicit, leaving zero room for ignorance—the bare, nearly naked sight of you and Haechan blankets over the screen, and if that isn’t enough to tell him that this isn’t something he was supposed to see, then the rather intimate position you and your boyfriend are in is quite the message.

He didn’t mean to find it. He wasn’t searching, wasn’t looking—not for this video in particular anyways. He was simply going through the camera roll in search of something else, and happened to stumble across what is so obviously you and Haechan’s sextape. If he had known that there was inappropriate things on there, Jisung would have asked for permission before he went on Haechan’s laptop. Yet the shocking discovery has him filled to the brim with curiosity, despite him knowing it would be wrong.

Thirty seconds. I can watch thirty seconds, then cut it off, he thinks. What’s thirty seconds out of a minutes-long video? You and Haechan can go for hours, the sounds you make whenever you stay the night at the dorm keep Jisung up long enough to know that. A part of him doesn’t mind since you sound so sweet, and he can’t help but imagine what it would be like to take Haechan’s place, to have you crying his name. No, he shakes his head. He doesn’t need to think like that. It’s bad enough that he’s watching this video. So he looks around the room a couple times, even though no one’s home except Renjun, and he’s asleep. Then he reluctantly presses play, turning up the volume a couple notches. He’d never miss the opportunity to hear you.

The tape starts off quick, you already sitting on your knees between your boyfriend’s legs as you took him in your mouth. Haechan pointed the camera in a way that gives Jisung a near-perfect image of what it would be like to have you sucking him off, with your lips wrapped perfectly around his cock and your eyes so round as you gazed up at him innocently. If you looked at him like that, Jisung would probably cum on the spot.

“Gonna show the camera what a whore you are for me?” Haechan said, out of Jisung’s vision for the most part and he prefers it that way. He’d feel too guilty looking at his friend’s face, and of course he’ll feel even more guilty looking at yours, but he’ll suppress those feelings until he inevitably sees you in person.

Then-you nodded a little in response, looking so desperate and eager to please. If only you knew Jisung would be watching this, would you have still agreed to filming yourself so explicitly? He doubts that you would’ve, it isn’t like your relationship has ever been anything other than platonic. He’s nothing more than the best friend of the man you’re dating, of course you only see him as a friend, too. Nothing more.

“Then get to work, baby.”

It took nothing more for you to comply, sucking your boyfriend’s dick in your mouth while your tongue swirled alive. Your hand wrapped around him too, grip not too heavy, yet not too loose either. It’s no surprise to Jisung, but you look amazing with a cock stuffed between your lips and he imagines it’s him instead. You’d probably feel just as good as you look. Honestly, Jisung’s never had anything other than his own hands around his dick, and you look so skilled that he knows you’d be promising.

Even if he couldn’t see, he can hear. Haechan’s a moaner - quite a loud one - and he’s making it obvious you’re doing a great job with how utterly verbal he is. All the moans and praises spilling from between his lips had you soaking and motivated you to work harder.

By the time Jisung thinks to check the timestamp, he’s already more than thirty seconds in. This sends him into mini-panic, but he slowly decides it wouldn’t hurt to watch a little more. So he does, in too deep to stop.

02:05, you looked up at Haechan with a gaze that gets Jisung hard. 06:48, you were gagging because Haechan had gotten a little rough on you, tugging at your hair and using his hands to control you, facefucking you. 07:12, 10:22, 12:57, by the time Jisung’s thirteen minutes in, Haechan’s patience had dissipated and he’d thrown you onto the bed, claiming he wanted to cum in you—not your mouth. Then Jisung has this thought of what it would be like to cum inside you, and wonders if one day you’d ever let him. He knows that you wouldn’t, but it’s still a fun fantasy.

Jisung finds himself enjoying this new angle better. Your whole body is on display, thanks to Haechan taking off your undergarments as well as the remaining portions of his own clothes. He had you on all fours, waiting impatiently for him as he teased your slit from behind you, gliding his cock over it while being careful not to slide in. The moment you whined, Jisung pulls his own dick out, not entirely, but enough to where his fingers can touch him in place of yours.

“So needy,” Haechan cooed, brushing his cock against your wetness, “you’re so wet. All for me, right? Tell me who got you this wet.”

“You,” you muttered.

Haechan drew back, sounding a desperate whimper from you, “Speak up, baby. Can’t hear you.”

“You!” you said it louder, adding something extra you knew your boyfriend would like enough to quit his teasing and finally slide in, “you, Hyuck, only you. Want you s-so bad.”

Just like that, Haechan gave back in, finally slipping himself in and stretching you far and wide. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, gripping your waist and rocking against your hips.

At the same time, Jisung strokes himself, watching the way you let your boyfriend toy with you, how needily you take everything he gives you. He thinks you look beautiful, your back in a pretty arch, your thighs and breast shaking as your body lurches forward at the impact of Haechan’s thrusts, your face—god, do you look gorgeous when you moan. Maybe there is a privilege in being a viewer. Haechan couldn’t, though Jisung can see your face perfectly.

“Harder,” you begged, your voice practically muffled as you whimpered into the pillows and mattress, yet he still heard you, “harder, Hyuck, please, please, please?”

“Baby want’s it harder?” He chuckled. “You’ve been so good for me, so I’ll give you everything my sweet girl wants.”

Watching Haechan touch you in all the places Jisung oh so desperately wishes he was, he feels like he’s going insane. You’re so incredibly fucked out, so out of it that the pleasure has practically locked you inside of a trance. Knowing you’re a sucker for contact, your boyfriend toyed with your body a little more, rubbing your clit to heighten the feeling, slowly yet steadily climbing his hands up your skin until they’re brushing your chest. Jisung moans when you do, unable to shake his urge to be inside you. Just one time, he begs to no one in particular, one time, and he’ll be able to happily move on with his life.

It feels like with every moment that passes, he’s closer to the edge. He’s blocked out everything else in the world, hyper-focused on your body and face. Your mouth agape, the pretty sounds that tumbled loose every time your boyfriend hit the spot, how caught up in the pleasure you were. If you gave him a chance, he thinks he could make you feel good, too. Sure, all the experience he has is with the palm of his hand, and he’s no where near as experienced as your boyfriend, but with a little guidance, he thinks he’d make you crack.

Though right now, he’s about to crack.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Jisung’s been here plenty enough times before to know that’s he’s almost there—not necessarily watching you like this, but on those occasions when you stay over and go at it with Haechan during the dead nights where you think no one is awake, where he’s secretly hearing you and shutting his eyes, imagining a twisted fantasy of you and him. He even sometimes does it when you’re not there, getting off to the memory of your pretty lips or gentle fingers, both around his cock. Up until now, it worried him that the thought of fucking your mouth kept crawling stealthily back inside his brain. You’re so gorgeous, so cute and loving. Though upon seeing you beg for Haechan to be rougher with you, witnessing secondhand how you took your boyfriend’s length despite him forcing it down your throat, he thinks you can handle it.

Fuuuuucck. Jisung bites at his bottom lip as he cums, shutting his eyes as the pressure breaks through his body. It’s so intense, taking everything in him not to make noise as his cum shoots into his pants.

When he’s done, it takes him a couple seconds to blink back in. Then the realization of what he’s done hits, following with the guilt and shame of his actions. He always feels bad after he cums to you, but this was different. This time, he had done something inexcusable, and he can’t help but wonder about how you’d feel if you found out. Would you think he’s a creep? Could you ever look at him the same again? Jisung doesn’t think he can live with that, so he quickly exits the tab and discards all evidence of his activity, shutting the laptop and buttoning back up his pants. He’ll definitely need to wash those himself.

Swiftly, he swoops the laptop up, and walks into the hall to put it back. The video he was originally looking for is long-forgotten, and he spent over half an hour watching you and Haechan. Jisung’s a terrible liar. If Haechan comes back before he can put his laptop back, he’s toast.

“Why do you have Haechan’s MacBook?”

Jisung freezes. Fuck, he forget about Renjun.

“I don’t,” he winces, realizing that’s a boldfaced lie. He has puppy stickers on his MacBook. Unmistakable puppy stickers, all your doing. “Okay, so maybe I do—”

Renjun glares.

“Fine, I totally do! But I wasn’t doing anything, I was just trying to find that video of Jeno and Haechan from the beach!” Jisung defends himself like he’s being accused of murder, “You know Haechan keeps everything on his laptop!”

Renjun nods his head. Valid. He’s still skeptical, but he doesn’t care enough to further interrogate the younger, so he just shrugs and walks into the living room. Jisung sighs in relief. He���s gotten away with it for now. Now he just needs to put the laptop back in Haechan’s room and pretend that what happened never actually happened.

Jisung’s been acting weird lately.

No scooting next to you on the couch and lying his head in your lap. No asking you how your day has been. No shyly waving at you whenever you first walk through the dorm door. No awkward hello’s (hell, he’s hardly even speaking to you.)

Even when you try and speak to him, his answers are plain and simple.

How’s your day? Fine.

Did you guys have a good practice? It was nice.

Have you been thinking about trying any new hair colors? Not really.

You don’t think he’s even looking at you. And Jisung’s really not that shy as you originally thought him out to be, after he got to know you a little, he was holding eye contact with you during conversations just fine. He’s a confident speaker even. But you try not to overthink things and try to get used to the emptiness without his normal self, chalking it up to him having a bad week or something. It’s normal, everyone has those.

Mission unsuccessful. You are the queen of overthinking. In fact, you are literally the walking definition of overthinking. If someone Googled the meaning of overthink, your name would probably pop up next to it.

So you turn to your all-time favorite therapist, AKA your boyfriend.

“Is it just me, or has Jisung been acting different lately?”

You’re at the dorms, in the middle of folding laundry. Haechan stands near you, doing absolutely nothing. Normally the guys would absolutely never let you do their laundry, and it’s Haechan’s turn this week, but you offered and somewhat aggressively insisted on folding, so he let you. He knows that you willingly do chores when there’s something on your mind and you’re trying to get it off but you can’t, so he was aware there was only a matter of time before you asked him some ridiculous question.

Your boyfriend blinks, not expecting the question, but if he’s caught off-guard then he conceals it quickly. “Just you, babe.”

You frown, “Think about it. He’s been acting so weird.”

“Jisung’s always weird,” Haechan laughs, “I haven’t noticed anything. He seems the same to me. Why are you so worried about him anyways?”

“Because he’s being weird, Haechan, I’m telling you. He doesn’t wave at or greet me anymore, doesn’t sit next to me during movies, and he won’t even talk to me anymore! I asked him if there was any hair colors he wanted to try and he said not really. He always has a list of hell no’s and shit that’s on his bucket list. This isn’t normal, Hyuck,” you ramble, halting in the middle of folding some Adidas sweatshirt.

Haechan pauses, rewinding a little and realizing that you may have a point. A small point, but a point nonetheless. “Well now that you mentioned it, I don’t remember having to hyper watch him during movie nights.”

“Exactly, because he doesn’t lay in my lap!”

“Thank God, maybe he’s finally learning boundaries,” Haechan says, relieved if that’s the case. Jisung’s never been particularly touchy with you, but he does use you like a human pillow during movie nights. Not that you mine, but your slightly possessive boyfriend does. “I was gonna kill him if he kept that shit up any longer.”

“Babe,” you whine, “seriously.”

“Oh, I am being serious. But I’ll ask the guys if they’ve noticed anything,” and as if perfectly on-cue, Renjun walks into the living room, “Yo Renjun, you think Jisung’s been acting weird lately?”

Renjun shrugs. “Nope, why?”

“Cause y/n thinks he is, and she’s like super worried. Been tryna tell her it’s probably nothing, but you know how she is—”

“Hey!”

Renjun pauses for a couple seconds, brows furrowed as he tries his hardest to think. And then it dawns on him. “Wait, the other day I did see him leave his room with your MacBook.”

Haechan furrows his eyebrows. “My MacBook?”

“Yeah, it had puppy stickers on the cover. I asked him why he had it, and he did a whole defensive rant talking about how he was simply, and I quote, ‘just trying to find that video of Jeno and Haechan from the beach’. I hope he never gets interrogated for something serious,” Renjun says coolly.

MacBook. Video. Haechan’s MacBook. Video. Oh god, this cannot be what you think it is. Yet as you gaze at your boyfriend, you can tell he’s thinking the exact same thing as you.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he groans. “When was this?”

“Like four days ago, why?” Renjun questions, utterly confused.

The time lines up, that’s when he started acting distant with you. He definitely saw something he wasn’t supposed to.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, tugging your boyfriend’s hair.

The ultimate stress reliever, head from your boyfriend. You’re not even exaggerating, the man eats pussy like his life depends on every lap. In this case particularly however, you’re ninety-nine percent sure he’s more so trying to shut you up by distracting you with something that’ll make you whimper in pleasure instead of distress, and you refuse to go down without a challenge. It is, needless to say, a challenge, especially with how the way that he makes you see stars clouds your mind, but you won’t succumb yet.

“Feel good?” Haechan parts for a split second to speak, then dips right back in unhesitatingly. He really doesn’t have to ask, but you know he only is because he wants to hear it from you, as though your moans aren’t telling enough.

“Yes, f-fuck,” you moan, unable to numb yourself to the pleasure. You wouldn’t even if you could, though it would be useful for you to convey your thoughts right now—the ones that keep slipping away the more he works between your thighs, yet you’re clutching onto them desperately. “But babe, gosh, what about Jisung—”

Haechan draws back, resulting in a whine to sound from you. “Baby, tell me you’re not talking about another man while I’m eating you out.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” you bemoan, “I mean, I could, but I don’t want to. I’m worried about him, you know, like what if he’s traumatized. And what if he never looks at me the same again, he’s never gonna—oh.”

Haechan cuts you off mid-rant by stuffing his fingers inside you, catching you a little off-guard since you hadn’t suspected his actions, or even take notice of how he moved from between your thighs, positioning himself behind you with your back to his chest. “Do you want him to forget?”

His question seems to catch you off-guard a little more. “Huh?”

“Do you want Jisung to forget what he saw?” He repeats. “He saw you naked, baby. He saw you sucking me off, maybe even you getting fucked into this mattress if he’s that nosy. Do you want him to forget that he saw you like that, or do you want him to remember? To get curious?”

If you’re bring frank, the thought has crossed your mind at one point. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself (because you already have a man, how dare you want another?) but a part of you craves Jisung. You think it has for a while, you’re just now coming to terms with it. That doesn’t mean that you don’t want Haechan—you do want him, you love him and you’ll never stop—though you can’t help but want Jisung a little, too.

“I… I don’t know,” you lie, afraid of choosing the wrong answer. How would Haechan take that you want to fuck another guy? And how could you unabashedly admit that to him?

“Stop being complicated, I know that you know,” he pulls away his fingers, as though to punish you for lying, “do you wanna fuck him or not, y/n?”

As expected, you whine once more for the umpteenth time this hour. You’re thinking about answering honestly if it means that he’ll stop denying you pleasure. “Why are you asking me this when you said you’d kill him if he kept lying on my lap!”

“I know what I said, and it has nothing to do with my question. Now if you wanna cum, tell me the truth,” your boyfriend whispers, silk voice giving you goosebumps, “if it helps, I know Jisung and I’m like a hundred-percent sure that he is absolutely anything but traumatized. The horny bastard probably got off to it if anything, and now he’s all embarrassed and worried about you finding out. That’s why he’s avoiding you.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “And not you?”

“I’m assuming it’s because you’re the one he wants to fuck,” Haechan shrugs, “since he’s usually all over you instead of me.”

Well fuck. You hate this. You hate it because if Jisung wants you just as bad as you want him, then something could really happen, and worst of all, Haechan’s okay with that. That’s probably all the reasons you need to love this, but you can’t shake the feeling that something about this is wrong, even if you want it. It’s the same feeling that’s prevented you from accepting how you feel, all of the shame and the guilt inside you. But fuck, are you willing to ignore it. Your moral compass is malfunctioning. You’re malfunctioning, probably. There’s no reason you’re turned on thinking about all the ways you could have both of them, and you can’t say the fantasies aren’t fun. You can’t say that you don’t want to take a chance at living them out. And even though technically, you can, that would most definitely be lying. You’re a woman of truth, and nothing but.

So you decide to tell him the truth.

“I… want him to remember,” you admit, your voice low but audible.

“Course you do,” Haechan crams a pair of his fingers back inside you, prompting a fairly loud gasp from between your lips in response, “you’re such a cock-hungry fucking slut, you’ll never be satisfied with just one, hm?”

“N-no, not a—fuck—slut,” even though you deny it, Haechan feels the way you clench around his fingers when he degrades you. He even felt the way you clenched around them when he described all the ways Jisung’s potentially seen you, and from that moment forward, he knew exactly what you wanted.

“Yes, you are, baby,” he disagrees, observing how you moan for him so needily. He thinks about how Jisung felt the moment he saw you like this in that video, so gone and pathetic. Then he remembers Jisung’s horniness is through the roof, and he was definitely turned on. “Such a slut. My greedy slut. Tell me you’re my slut.”

“I-I’m your slut, Hyuck,” you whisper, too caught up in bliss to speak an octave louder without forcing yourself.

Haechan slaps your thigh, and you moan consequently, “Louder.”

“I’m your slut!” you cry, louder than intended, yet your volume pleases him.

Satisfied, he smirks a little to himself. “Good girl. You wanna cum?”

“God, yes,” you’re nodding your head almost violently, “please?”

“Go ahead, baby. Let go for me.”

You’re in a daze-like state, feeling almost lightheaded as you clutch your boyfriend’s thighs for leverage. It’s either extremely early in the morning or extremely late at night and you’re at the dorms again, so you dig your teeth into your lips to try and conceal your moans as you cum, almost too out of it to even do that. Though as many times as you’ve been in this situation, biting back moans until your lips are bleeding, you like to think that you’ve perfected the silent skill.

The moment you come down from your high you lie your head against your boyfriend’s chest, and he whispers into your ear all these sweet praises, telling you how good you are for him. Everything is typical, with him holding you tight and close.

“Now, I want you to hear something,” Haechan says, throwing you off a little.

“Hear what?” You ask, nothing but confused.

“Shh,” he whispers, “listen carefully.”

Allowing your curiosity to get the best of you, your lips press together in absolute silence, and you’re even holding in your breath so that it won’t distract you too much. It takes a couple of seconds, but your ears begin to pick up on the faint sounds of groans coming from the wall that separates Haechan and Jisung’s rooms, which could only mean one thing.

He’s jerking off… to you?

Fuck, why does that turn you on? You wish that you were right there next to him, so that you could perfectly hear how deep his voice is when he grunts like that. Better yet, you wish that you were touching him yourself, so that you could see how his face looks when you make him cum. It isn’t fair. He’s seen you naked, while you’re left with not much more than your imagination.

“Haechan…” you whisper speechlessly.

“I know,” he whispers back. “He’s been doing this every night we fuck when you stay over. I know you’re always too fucked out to hear anything, though.”

Oh, god. The walls are severely thin here, you can only imagine all the noises he’s heard you make over the nights. All the times he’s came, and no wonder you hear him insisting on washing his own laundry. The guys already tease him, saying that it’s because he’s always jacking off, but you’re the sole one that never would’ve thought he was truly this horny—that he’d jack off to you.

“What do we do?” You ask, although your head isn’t exactly blank. It’s just that everything you’re thinking, you’re not sure your boyfriend would approve of.

“Confront him,” Haechan replies, like the answers obvious, and the moment you stare back at him in shock and appalled, he adds, “I’m not mad at you or against it, baby. If you wanna fuck him, then you can once on the condition that I have to be there. I’m sure that horny fuck wouldn’t care.”

You don’t believe your ears. “Really?”

“Yes,” he begins to yawn a little, “but tomorrow. For now let’s go to bed.”

The two of you lie down, and you go to sleep imagining all the possibilities of what could happen within the next twenty-four hours, snuggled up in your boyfriend’s arms.

The following day, you and Haechan plan out the confrontation quietly in his bedroom. Since the walls are thinner than you thought, most of your conversation is in hushed whispers and low tone.

Just thinking about it has you excited. If everything goes according to plan—essentially meaning if Jisung doesn’t shy off despite your boyfriend’s insistence on watching instead of participating—then you’ll have him wrapped around your finger, right where you want him. You just hope that he won’t freak out too much.

“You got it?” Haechan whispers once he finishes explaining the rundown of the plan.

It’s nothing like some elaborate scheme, or intricately-detailed ploy. There isn’t much to it but patience and faith in the slight steps to play out in your favor, although the ratio of your amount of the two things is dramatic.

“Yeah,” you reply a little too fast, a little too enthusiastically, “can’t wait.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” he taunts, “you don’t have a choice. But I’ll get the rest of the guys out of here by two, and then you’ll have Virgin Mary all to yourself. He just won’t have you to himself.”

You make a confused face, “What’s with the emphasis on him being a horny virgin?”

“You don’t get why I want to watch, do you?” Haechan asks, and you shake your head. You’ve been tempted to ask, but you’ve already come to terms with the fact that your boyfriend sometimes works in mysterious ways far beyond your comprehension level. “Baby, I doubt Jisung’s gonna know what to do with you. He’s gonna need a couple of pointers plus a push in the right direction. And who knows your body and how to fuck you better than to me?”

No one. Not a single soul. You find it a little embarrassing, but not even you. Haechan didn’t take your virginity, but the first time sure felt like he had—he had reached places you didn’t know were there, let alone reachable, and he made sex seem like something totally new. No one has quite pleased you the way your boyfriend has.

“So you’re going to… teach him?” Is the conclusion you make when you put the pieces together, and Haechan nods.

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

That is what you want to call it.

Time passes rather slowly. Every hour feels twice as long, and you feel as though you’re going to die any moment now. The second you hear the sound of the guys piling outside the dorm, there’s a burst of excitement in you, making your stomach turn and swarm with butterflies. (It’s killed briefly when Jaemin rushes back inside, claiming he forgot his phone, but once they drive away you’re filled with bliss once more.)

Jisung steps outside his room, “Where’s everyone going?”

“Away,” Haechan replies vaguely as you two walk back down the hall.

“So it’s just us three?”

“Yep,” you and your boyfriend answer in unison.

Jisung looks absolutely petrified, though not wanting to appear suspicious (he’s kind of late, but it’s the effort that counts) his face soothes soon after. “Cool.” To him, it is anything but cool.

“Cool,” you repeat, “so you wanna watch a movie with us in Haechan’s room?”

“I don’t think I should—”

“Please?” Your eyes are begging him, pleading at him, and for safe measure, you add, “I miss you Sungie, it feels like it’s been forever.”

Truthfully, it hasn’t been anywhere near that long. Though Jisung knows that he’s been extremely distant with you—probably why you feel kicked away—and he feels terrible. Plus, it’s impossible to say no to you, especially when you give him that look, gazing at him like a sad puppy.

He gives in, “Okay.”

“Yay!” You clap your hands together. You clutch Jisung’s fist and begin to drag him down the hallway, “Babe go make popcorn!”

Some moments later, everyone’s settled down. The three of you sitting on Haechan’s bed, with you squeezed in the middle like the cream of an oreo. You rest your head on Jisung’s shoulder and he tenses a little at first, though eventually relaxs.

Everything’s going great and according to plan. Jisung looks calm, laughing the movie and being as naturally clingy as he usually is during movie nights. You and Haechan glance at one another occasionally, silently deciding on the perfect moment to strike and telepathically agreeing that that moment is now.

Haechan pauses Netflix, making Jisung whine in complaint. “Why’d you do that? It was getting suspenseful.”

“You’re getting a little comfortable, don’t you think?” Haechan tilts his head.

It takes Jisung a couple of seconds to realize what Haechan’s talking about, but once he does, he quickly separates his hands away from you and scoots over to put a little distance between the two of you.

His face burns like fire. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re a repeat offender, Jisung, sorry isn’t gonna cut it this time,” and before Jisung can apologize again, Haechan adds, “plus, I have another question for you.”

“What is it?” Jisung swallows sharply.

“When you watched that video, did you cum?” It’s you that asks the question this time, much to Jisung’s surprise. He’s chewing hard on his lip, nervousness spelt out across his face.

Still, he plays dumb, holding onto the slim piece of remaining hope he has to consider that maybe this is a joke, that you aren’t serious and don’t actually know he’s seen the video. “W-what video?” Even his own voice betrays him, and Jisung knows from this moment that he’s screwed. Terribly fucking screwed.

“I’m sure you know it very well. The one where she’s giving me head and I’m fucking her into this mattress, remember?” Haechan inquires, a smirk blooming onto his lips as he watches Jisung break.

He’s done, he thinks. You probably hate him. You’re probably disgusted with him, repulsed by him, and appalled that his prying eyes saw you in such a sexual context. He doesn’t look at you, afraid of what he might see, holding his head down low in shame as he’s unable to lie to you anymore. “Sorry. I’m so sorry,” he stammers, “I didn’t, I wasn’t trying—I didn’t mean to, I just… I was just trying to find—”

“That video of me and Jeno from the beach, yes, Renjun told us. But you found something you liked better and just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Something about humiliating Jisung, toying with him a little simply to see how he reacts is fun to Haechan. All of his reactions, needless to say, are amusing; shuffling in his spot; fidgeting with his hands; swallowing and gulping hard; biting his bottom lip; and his eyes widening in panic as his cheeks sting with embarrassment.

You add, “We heard you last night, too. Do you always listen in on us like that?”

Jisung whimpers, “Y/n…”

“Answer my question, Sungie,” you lean into his ear, “do you always listen in on us like that?”

Whenever he’s awake, he definitely does. Jisung isn’t oblivious to the fact that if he can overhear Haechan’s room, then you guys can certainly overhear him in his room, but he thought he was quiet enough to get away with it. You have to give him credit, if Haechan would’ve never pointed it out you probably would have never noticed.

“Y-yes,” he admits in a low murmur, head still hanging low, “I’m sorry, you just sound so pretty when you… make noises, and it wakes me up. But sometimes I stay up and wait because I know you’ll start soon. Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad? You don’t get it, do you?” You move to straddle his lap, gripping his chin to force eye contact with him. He appears taken aback by your actions, but doesn’t fight them. “If I was mad, we wouldn’t be doing this, Jisung. I’m here because I want you, and you want me, right?”

Jisung’s Adam’s apple bobs as silence prevails over his voice.

“Answer her,” Haechan commands. “Do you want her?”

Jisung chokes out, “Yes.”

Shaking your head in dissatisfaction, you instruct, “Say it. Tell me what you want. Do I have to walk you through it like an ameteur?”

Jisung instantly shakes his head. He’s not a baby, he can do this. “You,” he finds the courage to say, fighting the urge to cower, “I want you.”

“Good boy,” you purr, “but you didn’t answer my first question, so I have some more for you.”

Trying his hardest to conceal how evidently the pet name fazes him while simultaneously bracing himself for the severity of your question, he asks coolly, “What are they?”

You lean back into his ear, but with you in his lap and his hands holding your waist this time, it feels so much different. “Do you moan for me when you cum?” Your voice tickles his neck, but he thinks he that likes it, “do you say my name?”

Fuck. Jisung could get hard at the memory, recalling all the times he’s came to you, moaning your name quietly to himself as he imagines you’re around his cock—your hands, your pussy, your mouth, anything. He’ll take anything as long as it’s from you. The only time he doesn’t moan your name is when he has to be silent, like when he was watching that video of you, in spite of how badly he wanted to call out for you right then and pray that you would somehow answer.

“Yes, fuck,” slowly, all of his shame and dignity is dissipating, “I imagine it’s you,” he mutters.

That gets you going as well. Jisung fucking his hand to the thought of you, pretending that it’s you, and moaning your name as he cums is a sight you’d pay to see. You’re pretty sure he’d send you a video for free though.

Deciding this needs to escalate quicker than it is, Haechan instructs, “Touch her, Jisung.”

“T-touch her?” Jisung repeats back, incredulous that this is the same Haechan who shoots him knife sharp glares whenever he so much as accidentally brushes his fingers against yours during movie nights. “Are you sure?”

“You think I’d ask you to touch my girlfriend if I wasn’t sure?” Haechan deadpans. “Honestly, you’re asking the wrong person.”

So Jisung shifts his focus back to you, and you eye him with these lustful eyes that tell him, scream at him that you want him. It’s so much like a fantasy that he’s half-tempted to pinch himself to test if he’s dreaming or if this is just a wet dream come true. “Can I touch you?” Jisung asks. His eyes are a little wide still, but he sounds so much more confident.

“Please,” you answer, and that’s all it takes for his hands to roam your body.

Jisung’s fingers move gracefully yet like the wild, untamable waver of a flame. As his fingers pull your top above your head, you can’t help but gaze at his fingers, long and bony. Fuck, you can only imagine the places they could reach, and you’re not too proud to say you’ve thought about it on more than one occasion. Because of your willingness to push it away though, the thought hasn’t ever bloomed into a full-on fantasy. Not until now, of course. This time however, you’re finding it perfectly acceptable to wonder.

He struggles to unclasp your bra though, earning a chorus of laughs from you and your boyfriend. But upon seeing Jisung’s flushed face, you try and teach him, with Haechan helping do a perfect demonstration.

Once Jisung thinks he has the hang of it, he says, “Put it back on.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “For what?”

“I want to see if I can do it,” he replies, making you and your boyfriend both scoff. But you indeed put the bra back on, and he successfully takes it off with a dramatic decrease in effort.

You nod in approval, “Good job.”

Jisung realizes he loves being praised by you. And in that same moment, he realizes that there isn’t much he won’t do to satisfy you so that he can hear you praise him some more.

He sucks your nipple into his mouth, fingers fiddling with your other one so that it wouldn’t be neglected. When Haechan talked down on Jisung for being a virgin, it made you think that you would have to teach him everything. But it seems like he’s done his research, because he knows a thing or two. That or he’s just naturally good.

“Shit,” you gasp, “Feels so good, Sungie.”

The look on your face tells him everything. You’re genuinely enjoying this, lips parted as you continue to moan little by little. If Jisung wasn’t hard before, he definitely is now. Something about your moans is severely intoxicating, and being able to hear them, seeing how you look when you moan in person is just on another level that the computer screen doesn’t compare to. It simply doesn’t do you justice.

You’re quickly becoming very needy and impatient. Jisung can feel Haechan’s eyes biting into his skin, silently waiting for the right moment to open his mouth, so Jisung decides not to make any advances on his own in dread of setting your boyfriend off. You on the other hand need him to pick up the pace, so you make the advance for him, picking up him free hand by the wrist and sticking it down your shorts. “Touch me,” you beg him with your mouth and eyes, “Please.”

He looks at Haechan, but surprisingly he’s nodding, urging him on. So Jisung complies, fighting the pitter-patter of his heart against his chest as he rubs you through your panties. You’re wet, he knows that much. Really fucking wet. It turns him on to think that he’s the root of it all, the reason why you’re soaking your underwear, especially because he’s wanted to touch you there for so long. He wonders how long it’ll be before he gets to touch you directly, without some flimsy fabric in the way of all the good stuff.

Lust blinding the two of you results in things to escalate somewhat quickly. It started with Jisung rubbing you through your panties, then you begging him for skin on skin contact, and then a complete change of positions after he hungrily takes off your shorts, finger fucking you as you eventually asked with your back flat against the mattress.

“Pay attention to the angle,” Haechan advises. “You can’t just shove your fingers in her and hope for the best. And don’t let having longer fingers get to your head, it’s pointless if you don’t know how to use them. Same with your dick.”

“I know that,” Jisung hisses. “Just because I’m new to this doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

“Just being careful, Ji. You’d be surprised how many people don’t know that. If you’re gonna fuck my girlfriend, I gotta at least make sure you’re doing it right,” you’re almost completely tuned out of the conversation, only picking up on bits of pieces as you’re too concentrated on the way Jisung’s fingers plunge in and out of you, coated in your arousal. “And pay attention to her body, it’ll tell you everything you need to know. See what makes her moan, squirm, beg—all that good stuff—and what doesn’t.”

If Haechan has you muffling screams when you fuck every other night, then Jisung’s sure he knows what he’s talking about, so he silently takes his advice. You seem to be enjoying this, and he wonders how he can take it further, how he can find out where you’re sensitive.

He decides to explore, not exactly letting his fingers run wild but experimenting here and there until he finds the spot. And when you cry out a little suddenly, he’s sure he’s found it. “Fuck,” you cry out in bliss, “Right there, Jisung, god.”

His fingers continue to hit you there, and he tries to burn the spot into his memory. It’s uncertain if he’ll ever get this opportunity again—and that’s when he realizes he should make sure this experience is as pleasurable as possible, just in case this is a once in a lifetime thing—but he wants to remember for safe measure.

For some reason, Jisung has the urge to look at Haechan again, so he does, and sees the man mouthing the words, Pull out.

Jisung is utterly confused. He mouths back, Why?

Just do it, Haechan says.

It takes Jisung a little. He’s reluctant. After all, one look at your face tells him that you’re all blissed out, and he thinks you’re pretty close. So why would he pull his fingers away? The point is to please you, isn’t it? Though not wanting to mess up, he hesitantly does as told.

“Jisung,” you whine when you’re suddenly empty, and Jisung hates it. He wants you to say his name in pleasure, in satisfaction, not like this.

“Haechan told me to!” He defends himself quickly.

“I did,” Haechan unabashedly confirms. “Don’t let her cum yet, making her wait is part of the fun and makes her want you more. Just get her wet enough so that you can fuck her good.”

“I did,” Haechan unabashedly confirms. “Don’t let her cum yet, making her wait is part of the fun and makes her want you more. Just get her wet enough so that you can fuck her good.”

Figuring that you’re wet enough, he turns to look at you. “Can I… can I fuck you?”

“Yes,” you’re literally about to beg, you’ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like an eternity, “please do, I can’t wait anymore. Need you so bad, Sungie.”

Jisung feels like he’s out of his mind. A part of him still refuses to believe that this is real, that this is actually happening. That instead of being mad at him for invading your privacy, you’re here begging for him to fuck you. He’s not sure what’s more surprising, the fact that you want to fuck him or the fact that Haechan is allowing this to happen, even telling him what to do to please you. You’re begging for him. You’re spreading your legs for him. You’re wet—all for him. It crosses his mind that maybe this isn’t a good idea, but with those three things considered, he can’t bring himself to care anymore. Haechan doesn’t care that he’s fucking his girlfriend, you don’t even care that he’s fucking you, so why should he?

Jisung drops his pants and lets his boxers hit the ground. There’s nothing holding him back anymore, not when he sees you gawking at him (unlike Haechan, he leans more to the lengthy side rather than girthy, though as long as he follows Haechan’s instructions you’re sure you’ll both be fine). It gives him a little ego boost.

“Condom?” He asks.

“You don’t have to use one,” you say, nearly making Jisung’s jaw drop, “just hurry up, please.”

What comes over him as he slides into you is beyond him, but the process is effortless and he just skates in. “Fuck,” he grunts, needing time for himself before he can even move. He’s barely moved an inch, but he can tell the real thing is a billion times better than his palm.

“Start slow,” Haechan says. “You’ve made her want it, but most importantly, you have to make her need it. Make her beg for you to pick up the pace, and then go faster. Not too fast, but not too slow, either.”

Jisung complies, drawing it out a little. With the way you feel around him it’s difficult to resist moving around freely, but then he remembers what he was thinking about making this as pleasure as possible for the two of you and decides it’s worth the wait. Something tells him to grip your waist so he does, his fingers dipping around your hips, and in return you let your hands fly to the empty space on his back.

You’re crying out in pleasure, need, yearning—all of the above. You probably should have expected Haechan to descend his teasing ways onto Jisung. He’s ever so slowly stretching you out, not pushing his whole size into you, but gently wedging it inside bit by bit at an agonizingly slow pace. It’s useful preparation, but once most of his length is sliding in and out of you so leisurely, your patience has ran significantly thin.

“Faster, Jisung. Please,” there’s tears pricking your eyes, and he hasn’t even really done anything yet, “want—no, I need you to fuck me so much.”

“How much?” He asks, catching everyone in the room, including himself, off-guard a little bit, but he doesn’t back down.

“It fucking hurts,” nothing but desperacy fills your tone when you whimper. Luckily enough you’re used to this tormenting treatment from your boyfriend, so you have a couple tricks up your sleeve. “Don’t you want it too, Sungie? You said it yourself that you think about this. Don’t you wanna make your dreams come true?”

Jisung grunts and caves in, allowing himself to move a little faster. He’s honestly tired of torturing you and himself.

“I’m almost impressed,” Haechan begins, nearly startling Jisung as his presence for once almost goes forgotten. It feels a little unnerving to Jisung that he’s been watching so closely, but he refuses to let that get in the way of fucking you. “Keep it up. Talk to her. Definitely not too much to point where’s it gets annoying, but not too little to the point where it’s awkward. Make observations, compliment her, ask her shit like you just did.”

Jisung simply nods in understanding, not bothering to drop some bitter reply. He’s too focused on you, on how you look, on how you feel, and he wonders if he’ll ever have the opportunity to see how you taste. He’s never ate anyone out before, but he thinks that your pussy is so pretty that there’s a first time for everything.

Meanwhile, you’re lost in the realm that is pleasure, savoring the way his dick inches in and out of you, filling you to the brim, slipping out, then pushing back inward. It’s hard to believe Jisung’s winging this—he has to have really been paying attention because he’s so fucking good at this, tip so far kissing all the right places. You like the way he holds your hips, so firm and secure like you’re precious and he’s afraid of shattering you (even though you wouldn’t mind if he did.)

From beside you your boyfriend is groaning, and that’s when you think to shift your gaze in his direction, realizing he’s finally stripped his lower body. His dick is in his palm, tall and erect, and you’re impressed that he’s gone this long without touching himself—or most surprisingly you. As much as Haechan likes to talk down on Jisung for being horny, he can’t blame him because he’s the exact same. Worse, even, especially for you.

“Touch her,” even in this state, Haechan still has pointers to offer, “Anywhere she’s sensitive for extra stimulation. Rub her clit—if you know where it is. Or what it is. Do you even know what that is, Jisung?”

“Yes, I know what it is, Haechan,” As if to prove his point, Jisung drops his hand down to your cunt. If you thought the way his fingers accidentally brushed against you was amazing, you were no where near prepared for the feeling of them toying with your clit. “Right here.”

“Oh, g-god, Jisung,” you stammer out, rocking your hips onto his hand. “More, please. I want more,” he’s quick to obey, applying pleasure to your clit while his fingers softly kiss your cunt in the same motion. “Just like that!”

Some moments pass, all actions consistent though Jisung isn’t sure how much longer he can keep this up. He’s having this fuzzy, trance-like feeling, where everything seems like nothing greater than his imagination. The only reason he knows he’s not dreaming is because of the way you feel around him. It’s like pinching himself, except this is pleasurable. Your bare walls are warm, tight, and wet as ever around him, and he knew from the moment he slid in you that he wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight.

That video doesn’t compare to this. His fist doesn’t compare to this. He can’t describe it, not with one-hundred percent accuracy, because absolutely no other feeling in the world compares to this. You look so fucked out beneath him, bliss spelt out across your face, and he’s proud that he’s the reason why. He had always known that he could do this with a little help, that he was fully capable of satisfying you. He just never thought that he’d ever be given the chance.

“Shit, y/n. You’re so fucking beautiful,” he moans, the deepness of his voice driving you closer to the edge. You’ve always found it hot, but it’s more extreme with his dick inside you.

Close, I’m close,” you moan, feeling the tightening in your stomach, “are you gonna cum?”

“Shit, y-yeah. Gonna cum. Can I—”

Picking up on what he’s asking before he even has to chance to state it himself, you say, responding a little over-eagerly, “Yes, fuck, cum in me. Please don’t pull out.”

You’re seeing stars, you swear. Bright white twinkling ones that cloud your vision as you cum, digging your nails into Jisung’s back. It helps that he’s rubbing you in your most sensitive area, fucking you so perfectly, and that Haechan’s sweet moans are audible beside you. You aren’t sure who cums first between the three of you, but you do know his cum is leaking from your cunt after his hips stutter to a stop, and he can’t help but fill you with a load of white.

It takes you a long while to collect your breath. But afterwards your boyfriend swoops you into his arms, placing you in his care once the deed is done. “Last pointer,” he says, “always check up on the person you’re fucking. Good aftercare is extremely important after sex.”

“Are you okay?” Jisung asks, and you find it cute how his eyes look so filled with concern.

“Seriously never been better,” you manage to respond through heavy breaths. “Haechan, can you join us next time?”

Haechan looks repulsed by the idea. “Who said there was going to be a next time?” This saddens you considerably, and Jisung too, but he does a better job at concealing it. “You did good, Jisung. Hope you find your own person to use your new skills on. C’mon babe, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You follow your boyfriend into the bathroom, and Jisung sees himself out. At least he has new material to jack off to, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t feel you again. You’re just too good to give away, so he understands why Haechan is so determined to keep you to himself.

But fuck, you’re too sweet to let go of.

“Ever heard the phrase sex is a remedy?”

“No.”

“That’s because I just made it up,” Haechan grins, and you roll your eyes consequently.

It proves true in some circumstances, you’ll give him that. Prime example: Jisung. Ever since that day, things between you have cooled. He started sitting next to you during movie nights again, even going as far putting his head in your lap (much to Haechan’s annoyance), actually talks to you, and looks at you (maybe a little too much.)

Yet surprisingly, he doesn’t seem that bashful anymore. It isn’t like he’s ever been the type to shy away, though this is next-level. No more shy waves or meek hello’s. No more weak eye contact. No more hesitance in touching you, despite him potentially being able to piss your boyfriend off. He’s so relaxed, so calm and so certain of his actions, and you kind of like it. There’s a chance the sex got to his head a little, but perhaps it was a push in the right direction and plus, you find confidence very sexy.

But you push these thoughts away as fast as they come. Whatever you had with Jisung is done, it can’t happen again. You all had your fun, now it’s time to let it go.

You pout, “Why are you leaving me alone for so long? I’m gonna miss you.”

Haechan’s going out with some of the guys to handle what he titles manly affairs. If you didn’t know any better you’d say that probably translates to I’m going somewhere to play video games, but you saw Jeno in his gym shorts. They’re definitely about to go hit the gym.

“Relax, I’m going to be back in a couple of hours and you aren’t alone—Renjun and Jisung will still be here to keep you company. Speaking of which, Renjun said that if you keep treating this like a second home he’s gonna start making you split the rent with us,” your boyfriend snickers.

“I was joking!” Renjun shouts from the hall, coincidentally walking down at the same time you happen to be talking about him.

“I think Renjun should mind his own business,” you say, and he rolls his eyes prior to stepping inside the bathroom. “And why aren’t they going with the rest of you?”

“Won rock paper scissors,” Haechan mutters, “but back to what I was saying about sex being a remedy, I promise I’ll make you cum at least three times when I get back.”

“Why three?”

“Because I don’t think you can handle four,” your boyfriend kisses you on the lips for a second so short it feels unreal, and you’re torn between focusing on that or informing him that he sounds like that one Reese’s commercial, “but I gotta go. See you later, babe, love you!”

“I love you more!”

“No, I love you mo—wait. I see what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work,” he catches on, earning a gloomy frown from you. At least you tried. “Now goodbye, I love you most!”

“No, I—” before you can even chuck out half your sentence, the door is rudely shut in your face.

You huff. He cheated.

Alas, you’re left alone. Flopping down onto the couch, you consider that Renjun’s probably right about you overstaying your welcome, though it isn’t like you’re here all day every day. Two days a week at most. You have your own lovely apartment free of men that fight over video games and superior pizza toppings. Speaking of men, you’re tempted to go annoy Renjun in order to pass the time, but then Jisung creeps from the shadows of his room and you’re suddenly no longer interested in the former.

“Sungie!”

You don’t seem to notice the look on his face when you call him that, and even if you did, you wouldn’t have been able to make out what it meant. It’s fleeting, gone before it’s ever really there. Jisung covers it up with a smile, though can’t help but feel the nickname has an entirely different feeling. It used to be cute—innocent and sweet. But then he heard you begging for him and that changed his perception of the word forever.

He figures that he should probably let it go, though. It happened almost a week ago, the sex. It was fun, he knows that. All parties enjoyed it, he knows that too, but he also knows that Haechan would never let it happen again. Hell, he’s still surprised that he let it happen a first time.

“Y/n,” he smiles cheerily, joining you on the couch. You sit upright to make room for him. “you’re here while Haechan’s not?”

“Oh, yeah. All my clothes that I have here are dirty so I’m waiting for them to finish washing and drying,” you explain, Jisung listening and nodding understandingly, “I also don’t feel like driving.”

Jisung laughs, “I can’t drive so I’d be zero help with that, but I can help with your laundry. Do you need any assistance?”

“I’m good,” you shake your head. “Thanks, though.”

Jisung nods. “Cool.”

“Cool.”

You both know shit is anything but cool. And if you’re being completely honest, the silence that fills the room is a tad bit awkward. You’re sure you’re both thinking the same thing, though neither of you want to say it. However, there’s a major difference between a want and a need.

“We need to address the elephant in the room,” he initiates.

You sigh—in relief or not, Jisung can’t tell. “So I’m not the only one who realized.”

So, maybe your analogy was slightly wrong. Maybe sex wasn’t a perfect remedy for your Jisung situation. Or maybe Haechan’s made-up saying needs some clarification: sex is a temporary remedy, that eventually subsides into a plethora of other problems.

False advertisement.

“Yeah,” Jisung chews at his lip, “it’s been gnawing at me for a while. I mean, I get that it was supposed to be a one-time thing, but I can’t be the only one that’s having trouble forgetting.”

He isn’t, much to your misfortune, and it’s been gnawing at you. It’s even worse since Haechan hasn’t acknowledged that day since it happened, and you don’t have it in you to bring it up this time. You know he’s down to try lots of things, though at some point there’s a line you know better than to cross.

Yet the lingering memory is still tattooed onto your brain, and you can’t simply forget how wonderful it felt for Jisung to touch you; how good and deep he felt inside you; how perfectly his fingers felt on your clit; how blissful you felt when you came in his embrace. It doesn’t help that Jisung is impossibly attractive, and you can’t help but want to do things to him, or let him do things to you—you couldn’t care less.

“No, me too,” this time it’s you struggling to hold eye contact, opting to look down, “but Haechan already has, and is it really worth going behind his back?”

Jisung pokes his cheek. “I know. We don’t have to act on it, I just wanted to get it off my chest.”

“Okay.” You look up at him again. He’s still looking at you, unfaltering. “Wanna watch a movie with me?”

He nods a little. “Yeah. Sure.”

Fetching the remote, you open Netflix under Chenle’s account (poor him. The cons of sucking at GamePigeon 8ball.) and select a movie. It’s nothing spectacular, but holds your attention fairly well for a while. Nothing new seemingly happens with Jisung—he’s not on your lap, though still touchy, replacing his head with his hand as he lies his head on your shoulder. It shouldn’t bother you but it does, goosebumps breaking out on your skin. As if things couldn’t get any worse, your body refuses to listen to your brain, allowing itself to look at his hands as your brain shouts at it not to. With the sight of his fingers planted firmly into your brain, showering little seeds, it’s impossible to forget those six days ago. Even if you try and push the memory away, it’s helpless. Your body remembers, and doesn’t want to forget.

His slender fingers plunging inside you is all you can think about. You shut your eyes, yet the image burns into your eyelids. You open them again, yet it’s still there, fueled more by sight of his fingers close to you. It doesn’t help that they’re dangerously close to the inside of your thighs, the proximity making you sweat.

“Are we gonna pretend you don’t want me to finger you right now?”

His voice startles you. Jisung knows you think he hasn’t caught you, but he does—he did. It’s impossible to ignore the burn of your stare.

Fuck, when did he get so bold? “Jisung,” you whine, already sensing this is going to head in a direction you simultaneously do and don’t wish for it to.

“I want to do the right thing, I really do, but it isn’t easy knowing you want me, I want you, and we’re not doing anything about it,” he’s slowly rubbing circles onto your thigh, which is significantly bare since you’re in un-lengthy Dolphin shorts, “can’t we do it one more time? Fuck it out?”

“You and I both know that if we do it again this won’t be the last time,” you say.

He doesn’t look half-bothered by the idea. “That’s not something we have to worry about right now though, right?”

Fuck.

You know better than to give in like this, but it’s much too late the moment he sneaks you inside his room and lies you flat on his bed. You also know that you could stop at any time you wish, but as terrible as it sounds, you don’t want to stop. It’s basically been said that you’ll deal with the consequences later, letting impulsivity win.

“Can I taste you?” His voices sounds so hot when he says this. You can’t help but nod, allowing himself to have his way with you.

Jisung tugs down your shorts in fervor, your panties following suit and meeting one another in a growing pile on the floor. He’s seen it before, though he can’t help but gawk at the sight your cunt, dripping with arousal and he’s hardly even touched you. You’re so pretty to him that he can’t help but run a finger through your folds, spurred on further when you gasp aloud.

“Never done this before,” he says, yet he sounds ready as ever, “so tell me what to do.”

Impatiently, you nod. “Just go with the flow and I’ll help you from there.”

Your eager motion and the way you buck your hips up is more than enough to signal to Jisung that you’re ready. He takes it as you giving him the green light to begin, tongue experimentally prodding against your folds. It’s like all his hesitance dissipates the moment he gets a hold of you, as though the mere taste of you has put a spell on him that he can’t wake up from. He isn’t sure what comes over him in this moment, though he knows that he wants to savor it—the taste, the feeling, the craving. A single taste of you is enough to fill him with greed and then he’s eating you out like he just can’t get enough of you, as though there’s a burning fervor coursing through his veins that can’t be ceased.

“Sungie,” you cry. It’s been a couple of days since you’ve been given head and you’d consider that a while, so the relief is extra phenomenal. You’re sure that even if it had been yesterday, you’d be just as weak to his touch.

Then, so torturously, he pulls away. Before you can complain, Jisung shushes you. “I’m sorry, but you have to be quiet. Renjun’s here.”

Your eyes widen slightly. You had honestly completely forgotten about the other, though fortunately, this isn’t your first rodeo. If there’s anything sneaking around in the middle of the night with Haechan has taught you, it’s how to be quiet. The only reason Jisung’s overheard you is because his room happens to be directly next to the one that your boyfriend owns.

“I can be quiet,” you murmur.

Jisung scoffs. “Sure, you can.”

Affronted, you’re inclined to protest, until Jisung’s lips meet your pussy again and you’re silenced, digging your teeth into your bottom lip to muffle any potential sounds you might make. He picks up again, listening with super-sense to the quiet moans you utter as you’re unable to hold all of the volume in. It helps him apply his knowledge, playing close mind to what garners pleased reactions from you and your body.

His tongue skirts around, and he gets the wonderful idea to target your clit. The moment the muscle swirls it’s way there, you know that staying quiet is gonna be more difficult than you thought. Your lips nearly shudder shut and he pushes them open, his grip firm as he spreads you apart ever so gently.

“G-good, feels so good,” you moan softly, careful to lower your volume, “you’re doing so well.”

Jisung’s tongue is anything but gentle, however. Spurred on, he darts his tongue like it knows magical spells of it’s own, putting one on you that you fall deeper into with every stroke. The pressure feels amazing, and you can practically feel your heartbeat between your thighs. It’s honestly admirable how quick of a learner he is, paying full attention to how your body responds to his touch and solely acting on that. No previous experiences, just you and his intuition.

You really don’t have to tell him what to do. If there’s any question, you naturally give him the perfect answer. When you moan, when you whimper, when you beg. When your thighs quiver and your hips buck up in greed, it’s all a telltale signal of arousal, perfect sign of pleasure. In the moment, your fingers reach for his hair, threading through his locks and drawing him closer to you desperately. You want to feel this to the maximum, until you quite literally are numb.

It’s a miracle that you’re far from numb right now though, feeling every lap. He’s making you feel so good and it’s so hard to stay silent to the point where you’re contemplating stuffing your fist in your mouth. If Jisung was extra nosy, he would have seen another video of you and Haechan on his MacBook, a video of Haechan eating you out while everyone else was seemingly asleep. You wonder if Jisung was listening in that night, if he heard your muffled sounds after Haechan stuffed your mouth with your panties. Gosh, you aren’t sure why the thought of him hearing you in such lewd ways still arouses you. You just know that you want him to have you, you want to pry into his mind and carry out every fantasy he’s ever imagined as he got off to the sound of you.

If this was amazing, you don’t think that there’s an accurate word in the dictionary to describe the feeling of what Jisung does next. He presses his tongue inside you, his hand replacing his mouth as he simultaneously plays with your clit. Your whole body feels hot now, like piece by piece, you’re being consumed by fire.

Between watching you struggle to conceal your moans, and the way your face scrunched in pleasure as you do, he doesn’t know what’s hotter. He could do this forever if it meant seeing you break on his tongue like this. Hastily your resolve is cracking, and he knows he could have you wrapped around his finger. In fact, he thinks he probably already does. It may be wrong, though it’s only fair since you’ve had him wrapped around yours since the moment he met you.

Then he notices something—your moans are getting louder, your thighs are quaking more, and overall you look so much more blissed out. That could mean only one thing: you’re close. He knows he doesn’t have to, but he pulls away.

“Jisung!” if it wasn’t for the fact that Renjun was home, you think that you’d probably scream your lungs off. You’re also beginning to think that Haechan influencing Jisung was a bad decision. “You know that you don’t have to edge me, right? Like, even if I cum from foreplay, you can make me cum again.”

“I know,” he smiles, licking your juices off his mouth, “but I wanted to.”

Scratch that. It was a horrible decision. Now, Jisung’s equally as much of a sadistic piece of shit as Haechan.

Before you can whine, he says, “But I’ll make it up to you, if you let me,” he starts palming you with his hand, earning these little moans from you. Then he looks at you, with that pretty gleam in his eye that makes you want to fuck the shit out of him. “Will you let me?”

Ultimately, you let him. It didn’t take much for you to cave in—he had already given you head, aroused you yet refused to let you cum, so now you’re desperate for an orgasm. Plus, this has already gone too far. It might’ve not done any wrong to stop things from going any further, yet it isn’t like it would do any good, either. You’re in too deep, once you’ve started you can’t stop.

Jisung undresses you, showing you that he remembers how to unclasp a bra, and then he undresses himself. The sight of your naked body isn’t foreign to him anymore, yet he’ll still continue to marvel as though it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Fuck that—it is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“I wanna ride you,” you say, snapping him out of his daze.

He blinks dumbly. “Huh?”

Gently, you push him onto his back. “I wanna ride you,” his eyes are on you, watching you with a lustful shadow dimming his eyes. “Are you gonna let me?”

“You can do whatever you want with me,” he tells you, gaze never once leaving yours.

Fuck, he’s so damn hot.

You straddle him, and once your knees are on either side of him you sink onto his dick, a sound of relief being drawn from both of you. Instantly you feel so full, yet that doesn’t stop the need built up inside you from yelling for a release. You allow yourself to adjust all over again before you start really moving, grinding onto him.

The stretch almost makes it feel like you’ve never been here before but you take it, fingers clutching his shoulders for leverage as his arms anchor around your waist, keeping you in close proximity. You’ve allowed him to go in bare again so the feeling is as raw as it was the first time around, yet Jisung still doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this. How your walls tighten around his dick, how the wet squelch of your cunt sounds when he enters you. It’s fucking mesmerizing—you’re fucking mesmerizing, and he’s happy to have you all to himself even if it’s for a moment.

“How does it feel, Sungie?” You ask, already having your answer when you look at his face.

The same way Jisung can see through you, he’s like glass to you, a mirror even. He’s beautiful beneath you, face scrunched up in pleasure, and the tightening grip on your waist is a crystal clear sign that he’s enjoying this. It’s entertaining hearing him trying not to moan, his sounds muffled as deep little grunts that you’re sure he’s oblivious of how fucking sexy they are. In contrast you can’t stop thinking about what lives rent-free in your mind, wishing you could be louder so that you’d hear the full extent of his beautiful sounds.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, surprising yet pleasing you. If he keeps up the sexy noises, you’re going to cum hard.

You smile, “All for you.”

In this particular moment, it is all for him, and that’s enough for him. He likes that he’s able to get you wet, he likes that he turns you on, he likes that you want him, he likes that he has so much control and influence over your body. And you like when he treats you like you’re his.

Jisung also enjoys watching you fuck yourself on him, ever so desperately chasing your orgasm. He hates denying you it, but that unfortunately doesn’t make Haechan any less right. It is a part of the fun because it makes you needier, and there’s nothing he loves more than seeing you all delicate and fragile, so greedy for his touch. And in your determination to cum, you’re using his shoulders to hold yourself together as your pussy swallows his dick. He knows it’s going to be a sight when you actually do cum, to see you fall apart on top of him as you finally reach your climax.

His gaze lingering on your body, Jisung suddenly feels the urge to touch you. You’re so beautiful all over, it’s only right that he appreciates every aspect of your body equally. Slowly, he drags his hands up from your waist to your breast, fundling with your breast. His fingers graze over your nipples and when you gasp, he can’t contain his smile. You’re so sensitive there, it’s so fun to mess with you simply to see you react.

“Your body’s so beautiful,” he’s really just thinking aloud at this point, but you enjoy the compliment, especially as you notice the in-awe gleam in his eyes. He looks like he’s seen you pluck a star from the sky, or summon the moon with your palm.

That’s when he gets an idea. One he’s always daydreamed about, yet never thought to ask you until now, when he’s thinking of all the ways to show your body love. “Is it okay if I kiss you? Not on the lips, but your skin.”

He thinks it sounds weird to ask, but you’re delighted by the question. “Y-yeah,” you answer mid-moan, and you can feel his dick twitching inside you, “just don’t bite or suck or do anything that’ll leave a trail and make marks.”

He hadn’t even thought about marking you, though now that you mention it, he really wishes he had the chance. He’s ignored the faint ones that linger on your body from your boyfriend, fading blotches of color. Instead, he does what he can, delivering little kisses to your skin. It starts from the valley of your breast, and slowly yet steadily falls down.

Jisung notices your breath getting shallower when you kiss him. When he passes by your breast, he makes sure to flick at your nipples with his tongue, driving an unsuspecting mewl from you. His kisses leave a hot sensation all over your body, like some kind of Midas Touch where everything he touches feel like fire. It’s a kind of fire you don’t want to be put out, that you want to let it’s flames eat at you and burn you. That’s exactly what Jisung’s touch does, and it’s driving you crazy. You don’t know how long you can keep this up before you have to let go.

You’re fucking yourself onto him at a steady rhythm, biting your lip profusely as you rock yourself against him, finding the spot that drives you to insanity. You look so fucked out but Jisung’s not any better, struggling just as much as you are to keep your sounds in. He’s so vocal, and you’d appreciate it more if it weren’t for Renjun being only some yards away.

You think of the perfect way to shush him, leaning in to crash your lips against his. With your eyes shut, you miss the way his go wide, yet he lets your mouth guide him and sinks his hands back around your waist. After all, he did say that you could do whatever you wanted with him.

Once you’ve confirmed he’s not backing away, you shift your hands from his shoulders to his hair, carding your fingers through there and drawing him closer this way. A particular movement causes him to moan in your mouth, and by then you feel beyond ecstatic. You feel high off of the pleasure, senses heightened and everything around you seems to slow. It’s a beautiful moment, filled with heavy breath and low moans, and you wonder if he feels the same.

Jisung pulls away, panting, “I’m not going to last.”

You guess that gives you your answer, because you’re so in sync, your body’s mirroring one another.

“Me neither. Fill me up, Sungie. Please.”

You’re clenching around him repeatedly, and he’s sure that’s what triggers his orgasm. That’s when Jisung meets his breaking point, biting his lip as his cum shoots inside you, yet you’re still close enough to hear the deep sound of his perfect groans. He recalls thinking that having you like this one tike would be enough for him to move on from you, but he’s onto his second and it’s already been somewhat established that there’s plenty more where this comes from. You just feel too good, more than he could have ever imagined.

The way you draw his name when you cum, clutching onto him so tightly as you work your way through his orgasm before leaning against his shoulders, it’s enough to spur him on once more. He’s realizing that he could seriously do this forever—you’re that addicting.

“Are you okay?” He asks through heavy breathing, holding you to his chest.

“I’m good,” you sigh, satisfied. “Thighs are kinda sore, but I’m good. What about you?”

Jisung rubs your thighs gently, but replies honestly, “I want to go again.”

You’re honestly astonished. You already knew that this wouldn’t be the last time, however you also didn’t expect the third to be so soon. You’ve hardly relaxed from this round, and the ache in your thighs is screaming at you to slow it down.

“My thighs ache, Jisung,” you laugh.

He pushes you onto your back, moving his head between your legs again and kissing softly at your thighs. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispers between kisses. “If you let me,” he gazes up at you, meeting your eyes. “Will you let me?”

In that moment, you feel purely hypnotized by him. Something tells you that this is a bad idea and that it’s getting out of hand, but it’s been that way since the moment this begun. You know it sounds corny, but though it’s wrong, you can’t stop this from feeling so fucking right.

And in that same moment, you realize that you’ll also let him do whatever he wants with you.

Sneaking around with Jisung becomes routine.

It’s like you two just can’t get enough of each other, drawn to the other’s body as though there’s some magnetic force between you, as though he’s a moth and you’re his flame.

When everyone’s back is turned, you find time to one another. Sometimes when the guys go away. Sometimes when they’re all asleep. Sometimes you even invite him over to the solace of your home, with no roommates, no one like you who uses the WiFi and the Netflix without paying even a quarter of a bill. Him and you. No more, no less.

Times such as now. Times when he has you backed against your front door as soon as he steps inside your apartment, out of sheer desperation. It isn’t always like this, sometimes you take turns taking control. Sometimes you fight for it until the other submits. Sometimes you’re so desperate for each other that neither of you can even think to care about control, just submitting to the desire in your bodies.

“Missed you, too,” you take his eager actions as a non-verbal way of saying I missed you. You gasp when he doesn’t respond, just pressing his lips to your skin. He doesn’t suck or bite, God knows he wants to though he knows better, but shows love to your body as he slides your shirt off.

It’s been longer than it usually is since the last time you’ve seen him, so he has every right to behave like a touch-starved virgin again. “God, I really fucking missed you,” he grumbles in your ear, cupping your chest. You bet he does. The reason you haven’t met up until now is because you two haven’t had the opportunity. It’s either the guy’s have been around more often, you’re prioritizing Haechan, or one of you are too busy and burdened with work to find time.

Speaking of your boyfriend, you don’t think he’s entirely clueless.

It isn’t like either of you are stupid enough to downright stick a hand down the other’s pants, however you’re still too touchy. Your fingers soothe through Jisung’s hair as his head lies in your lap, or his hand rests near the danger-zone of your thigh.

Haechan hasn’t brought this up, though you still feel the sting of his stare and it burns mightily. As a solution, you’ve come to the agreement to keep the contact to a minimum as long as he’s around, and use your place more often so that you aren’t starving each other of touch completely. It’s a solid plan. Haechan visits your place occasionally though not nearly as much as you visit the dorms, so you figure you two should be safe.

“Do you?” Jisung nods, not missing a beat and staring you down with the most hungry eyes. “Then show me, Sungie. Prove it.”

That’s all it takes for him to lead you to the couch and fuck you until you can’t even think — however if you could, you’d think that you honestly can’t handle it anymore.

There’s been times where you’ve almost been caught. Most recently, during the middle of the night the last time you stayed the night at the dorms. You decided to meet Jisung in his room for a quickie, slithering out of your boyfriend’s grasp and tiptoeing down the halls, thanking god that Haechan’s a heavy sleeper.

The minute you hooked your hand on his doorknob, you were given the scare of your life by no other than Huang Renjun (you swear, he’s always in the hallway at the most inconvenient of times ever.)

“What are you doing?”

You jumped. High as a Kangaroo. Turning to see who had caught you, you nearly let out a relieved breath when you realized it wasn’t Haechan. Then you realized it was Renjun, and all the panic in you resurfaced like clockwork.

Luckily, your lying skills are nothing short of impeccable because you follow one simple rule: don’t lie more than you have to.

“Going into Jisung’s room,” you answer honestly.

Renjun quirked his eyebrow. “In the middle of the night? Isn’t he asleep?”

“Oh, you know how he is. Afraid of everything under the sun, and he texted me that he had a bad nightmare so I volunteered to be his human teddy bear until he falls asleep.”

“Typical,” Renjun snorted, but he looked more convinced than you thought he would. “Good night, then. And tell him I said to grow up.”

Putting forward your best, oscar-worthy laugh, you told him goodnight back as he slipped away to his room, and you finally entered Jisung’s, shutting the door behind you and trying desperately hard not to laugh as you saw his face.

He frowned, “Scared of everything under the sun? Human teddy bear? Seriously?”

“You should be grateful that my oscar-worthy performance kept us from being found out,” you replied as you walked to his bed. It wasn’t unrealistic, Jisung doesn’t have nightmares as much as he used to anymore, though he’s certainly a scaredy-cat. You have no idea how he found the balls to sneak around with you. “Actually, I think I deserve a reward.”

Jisung pulled your shorts down your ankles, “You think so?”

“I do,” you smiled.

“Then,” Jisung paused to kiss you, addicted to the feeling of your lips ever since you first pressed them against his. It was a craving he didn’t even know he had until you gave him a taste. “Let me reward you.”

“This isn’t gonna be a quickie, is it?”

“Bet me,” he said, a little smirk on his lips that he slightly tried to hide. “How fast you think I can make you cum.”

He’s insane. That’s the conclusion you’d drawn from every moment you’ve spent naked beside him. You can’t deny it though, you like it, even if it’s a little dangerous and very unwise.

You furrowed your brows, “Bet? Like, money? Or orgasms?”

An even better currency in mind, Jisung shook his head. “Rounds.”

You knew what that meant. Jisung wanted you to himself. He was never satisfied with only one round — even if it meant overstimulating himself, he was desperate to have you until neither of you could continue, sore and exhausted from the work.

“Fine,” you agreed. “Six minutes. If you can’t, you get one round. If you can, then gosh, you deserve as many rounds as you want.”

To be honest, you never pay much attention to how fast he makes you cum, too caught up in the moment to even consider the amount of time you’d spent in that way, skin on skin, body to body. So the only person you’re sure has made you cum in six minutes or less is Haechan, because you explicitly remember him setting a timer to prove himself to you.

In spite of all that, Jisung looked confident. He passed you his iPhone and shifted to your bottom half, pushing your thighs open. “I’m ready when you are.”

Nodding, you set the clock.

Long story short, Jisung had as much fun as he wanted with you that night.

You’ve also been setting precautions. If it’s too risky for you to see each other in person, then you settle for exchanging nudes and things alike.

The first time it happened, you hadn’t actually intended for it to. It was more of a joke, you were texting each other and you playfully suggested that Jisung should send you a video of his own as reparations for his snooping. When he didn’t respond for a while you had your suspensions, but you didn’t think he’d actually hit you back with a video of himself, stroking his dick and moaning your name with a tremble in his voice.

In that moment you were given an idea of what it was like when he got off to your moans in another room, how he sounded and not so much how he looked since the focus was never really on his face, but you’ve seen his blissed-out expressions enough to come up with it on your own. It turned you on, enough to make you send back a video of your own, and from that day on it became a bad habit of yours to exchange explicit images and videos whenever you were separated.

It’s so late at night yet so early in the morning when the text hits your phone, I need you.

He caught you at a good time. Feeling hot and bothered yourself, you were honestly about to fetch your vibrator from it’s hiding spot in your closet because you knew your boyfriend had fallen asleep and assumed that Jisung had as well, at least until he texted you.

How bad is it? You send back, instead choosing to lie back on your bed, resting on your stomach as you wait for the typing bubble to transform into some type of message.

This bad. The attachment makes you bite your lip after he sends it. Sometimes when Jisung sends nudes of himself he isn’t very nude, he likes to send dick prints to tease you because he knows you want the full image. Though this time, his pants and boxers are discarded, he has his hand curled around the base of his erect dick, and you can tell at once that he’s much too desperate to be in the position to tease you. In fact, he’s probably hoping you’ll be generous to him.

He’s needy as hell right now, you can feel it. And how cruel would it be of you to not help him?

You grab your vibrator and prop your phone on your pillow, positioning it so that it’d film you perfectly. It’s late, and you have work tomorrow so you don’t have that much time to sext with Jisung, so you instead decide to send him a video you know will last him for now. You press record, and wiggle yourself out of your panties exaggeratedly, knowing he’ll love the gesture. He always does. Then you spread your thighs apart, enough so that he’d easily be able to see how wet you are. For a while you tease yourself with your fingers, allowing little moans to fall from your lips before you desperately reach for your vibrator.

The feeling of it against you almost makes you forget that there’s a camera watching you, and that this is supposed to be for Jisung more than it is for you. You’re not worried, however. The thought of him has successfully infiltrated your mind, and you can’t help but moan his name louder than your ears can register. With your eyes firmly shut, you’re imagining it’s him between your thighs—his dick, his mouth, anything. In this moment you, don’t care. You can’t care.

“J-jisung,” you whimper when you’re close, not once, not twice, but several times in a chant-like manner. You can only imagine how much he’ll love that, and if he wasn’t hard already, it would’ve certainly did the trick.

It feels explosive when you cum—literally. That’s when you come to the realization that you’ve squirted, and you find it a nice touch to end the video with. You send the message Good night to Jisung, making sure to attach the video before preparing for bed.

The next day when you find some free time, Jisung calls you briefly and asks you to come over, informing you that the guy’s are away and won’t be back for some hours.

Of course you’d never miss the opportunity to see him, and you were there in record-time, wearing a cute skirt you know he likes. Time is blur when he opens the door for you, and you hardly remember what happened in the time between you walking inside and him sitting you atop the kitchen counter.

He slithers his hand up your skirt, making you sigh in pleasure when he rubs you through your panties.

“Missed this so much,” Jisung murmurs, acting as though he hasn’t seen you in days. You didn’t think it was possible, but somehow you’ve turned him from a virgin to a sex addict. He’s seriously a fiend for you, but you don’t mind it.

You snort. “You always miss me.”

“Yeah, well,” you can sense the disappointment in his voice, but you don’t know where it’s coming from, “I miss you more now because you kinda left me hanging last night.”

Is he talking about you not sexting him? There’s no way, you sent him a whole video. He isn’t entirely insatiable. “What do you mean? I sent you a video?”

“No, you didn’t,” when Jisung fills you stiffen in his grasp, he stops and steps back. The realization creeps up on him as quickly as it does you.

Your voice at a whisper, you quietly muse, “Then who did I send it to?”

“Me.”

You think you’re going to be sick. You don’t even have to turn your head, you can tell it’s Haechan from the sound of his voice. Still you do, your heart hammering against your chest as you look him the eyes. He’s standing by the door and you have no idea how long he’s been there, but you know it’s definitely been too long.

“Hyung,” Jisung looks equally horrified, “I thought you left.”

That’s right. Jisung did tell you everyone had left, and it surely seemed like they had. No cars outside, the apartment was quiet, and void of all life save for you and him. You had made a mistake, and fuck, so did he.

“I was asleep,” Haechan shrugs discardingly, too nonchalant to be relaxing. “Having fun here, aren’t we?”

You start, “Haechan, I—”

“Can explain? I don’t want to fucking hear it,” he’s upset, and it’s finally seeping through his calm demeanor. “When I saw that video I’m thinking I’m waking up to a sweet morning surprise from my girlfriend, ya’know, and then I hear you moaning my best friend’s fucking name,” his gaze pans to Jisung, who then practically cowers.

Fear has consumed half your body, though lust consumed the other half. You can’t help but bite your lip at the way your boyfriend looks when he’s mad, pushing your thighs together — and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“You’re fucking turned on by this, aren’t now?” He’s doing that laugh, the one that’s more out of anger than genuine amusement. It doesn’t help you at all, because damn does he sound hot doing it. “You know what? Come on. You too, Jisung.”

Haechan hooks his arms around you and forces you down the hallway before you can even think to move. You know being thrown around by him shouldn’t turn you on and especially not right now, but you can’t help the way that the aggression combined with his angry attitude has you sopping.

Jisung trails behind, feeling as though he doesn’t have much of a choice. You can tell he’s scared shitless, but you on the other hand are somewhat thrilled to see where this’ll go.

You’re practically thrown onto the bed when Haechan takes you into his room, slamming your back onto his sheets without much care. “I’m going to play with you until I’m satisfied,” he announces, not leaving room for options. “And Jisung, you’re going to watch.”

Jisung’s Adam’s apple bobs. “Watch?”

“Yes, watch. You’ve been fucking my girlfriend right under my nose and think that I’m going to let you off easy?”

Neither of you are going to be let off easy, and that’s the scariest part about it.

He doesn’t say anything from then on, only dragging down your articles of clothing or pulling them above your head at paces nothing less than excruciatingly slow. You begin to feel bare and uncovered underneath him, as though nothing could escape him and as though he can see through you more than you could him in the moment. The inscrutable expression on his face as he strips you naked makes you feel like everything you’ve hid is being stolen from confines, open and on display for him. He can see so much of you, but you can’t tell what’s running through his mind as he touches you almost everywhere but where you need him to.

The little relief he’s permitting you as he hauls his fingers around your skin isn’t enough and you at least know that he’s aware of that, deliberately fighting shy of the space between your thighs. You try and squirm, to show any possible hint of you needing more, but Haechan moves his hands to hold your hips steady. “You’re only making this worse for yourself if you keep moving,” his grip tightens until you give up and lie still, realizing that cumming is probably going to cost you more than you initially thought. “I’m in control here. Not you, not him, me. If you want to cum, then you’ll have to play by my fucking rules.”

You lift your gaze to Jisung, finding him staring back at you. The look on his face appears as unsure as it had the second you were caught, but the bulge in his pants betrays any lack of will present in him. If he could, you know that he’d be running his hands all over your body too, and you realize that that’s probably what’s going on inside his head.

You look away. “I’m sorry.”

The way Haechan snorts, you can tell he doesn’t believe you. He knows you’re only sorry because you want relief, and know the more you disobey him, the longer you’ll wait for it. “If you’re truly sorry, you’ll take what I give you like a good girl.”

The thud of your heart against your chest is loud, yelling at you when you feel him finally spread your thighs apart. You wonder if he can hear it too, the hunger and desperation in you calling for him in one steady rhythm. He moves like he’s willing to satisfy your greed, although not all at once, taking his precious time with you as he presses delicate kisses and rubs patterns onto the insides of your thighs. You whimper, but the dark, shadow-y look in his eyes as he gazes up at you shuts you up instantly.

“C-can I touch her?” Jisung asks tentatively.

Haechan doesn’t look back, doesn’t even think about it as he replies, “Not yet. You can touch her when I say you can.”

He’s dipping his head onto you again, not to say he ever really left. You moan a little when he licks at you, fighting the urge to buck your hips onto his mouth in reluctance to anger him further. You don’t know what the consequence would be if you did, and you’re fine without knowing. Still, the pace he sets is agonizing and it takes everything in you not to let temptation prevail. You know you did a bad thing. You also know that bad behavior doesn’t get rewarded, but you can’t help but feel a little selfish, wishing he’d give you a little more instead of teasing you beyond imaginable.

Eventually, the little licks do become more, gradually developing from gentleness to Haechan lapping at you with the eager movements of his tongue weakening you as he becomes unable to resist his own temptations. As you grip his hair forget there’s even anyone else in the room with you, weak in a way you had never allowed yourself to become for Jisung. This type of fragility is what he hears at night and what he saw in the video, but what he’d never be capable of having. You’ve been desperate for him too, but Haechan’s broken you beyond desperation. He’s teased you until your cunt physically aches, then filled you with pleasure that gives you whiplash.

“Hyuck, Hyuck,” your knees feel weak, and you can’t even think. All you know is that this feels good, and you fucking need him.

“You wanna cum, angel?” He coos, only moving away from your cunt for a second before he’s latching onto you again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant. “Please.”

Your stomach feels like a rollercoaster, your gut flipping, turning, twisting, spinning—and everything in between. You can feel your orgasm approaching and you know that Haechan can too, with your body quivering in his grasp, your sounds increasing in frequency and volume, and your clutch on his locks tightening without you being capable of noticing.

In short, your stomach feels like an insane rollercoaster, your gut flipping, turning, twisting, spinning—and everything in between. You can feel your orgasm approaching you quickly and you’re sure that Haechan can too, especially from how your body quivers in his grasp, your sounds increase in frequency and volume, and your grip on his locks tightens without you being capable of noticing. It’s almost as though your body is physically here, yet you’ve elevated off in heaven somewhere. But when he pulls away just before that invisible string in you can snap, you feel shoved back into torturous reality.

“No!” You whine.

“You really think you deserve to cum?” The way he looks at you feels so degrading that you can’t resist shaking a little underneath him as he hovers above you, “I’m going to edge you until you understand that this pussy is mine.”

“No, no, no,” you whimper, “please let me cum, Hyuck. I’ll be good, I promise.”

Haechan scoffs. “Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that? You weren’t worried about being good when you decided to be a slut for Jisung.”

The mention of Jisung gives you the rough reminder than he’s still in the room again, watching closely how pathetically you unravel before your boyfriend. You can tell that he wants to do something but he’s mentally debating it, and he shies up every time you shift your gaze over to him again. He’s more nervous now that he’s been directly mentioned, unsure of what to do and how to react in a scenario like this. He knows he shouldn’t touch you, but should he be ashamed if he were to touch himself? Should he feel guilty about the things he’s done with you when your boyfriend’s back was turned?

“I, I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what, babe?” He crooks his head. “Go ahead and tell me another lie.”

It’s almost embarrassing how easily Haechan makes you feel like such a pathetic mess. You can’t even find the words to say in response to that, and he’s simply amused by how quiet you’ve gone. It was never like you expected him to placate you after finding out about everything you did behind his back, but you didn’t think it would hurt to try, hoping he would show you some type of mercy and be even a little lenient. You know that he didn’t deserve for this to happen to him and that you don’t deserve even a sliver of his mercy, but you had hoped that maybe he would still find it in him to grace you with it anyway.

When Haechan moved his lips from between your thighs, soaring up your body and re-starting his teasing journey at your neck as he peppers the skin with gentle kisses that you know only temporarily betray his attitude, you had then accepted that nothing comes without a cost, and that this was your price to pay. He played fake soft with you, treating you like you had a fragile label warning printed across you in spite of being completely aware that you wanted more, that you needed more and would never be satisfied with what little he was giving you. That was what made it more fun for him though, because it seemed like no matter what amount of pleasure he was generous enough to give you, you would take it for granted and not value it enough.

Then Haechan’s movements get fiercer as he continues to follow this torturous pattern of gradually fulfilling your desires, kissing developing into biting and sucking at your flesh in ways that make you gasp out in response, and ways he knows will leave marks on your skin. He was satisfied that Jisung had at least successfully avoided that and you couldn’t imagine what side of him would unravel if he hadn’t. Haechan liked to joke and play around at times but he was never truly all that possessive over you unless you had truly set him off, and this was one of those instances where you had.

There isn’t a single sign of reluctance in him as he marks you up more and more little by little, sucking red spots into your neck and falling steadily down the rest of your body to cover every area he could. He knows that they aren’t tattoo permanent, but not extremely temporary either. In the moment you would feel him decorating your skin, but afterwards you would look in the mirror and see how he had left you covered practically head to toe in marks. If you were bold enough to try and sneak around with Jisung again, he would be reminded that you didn’t belong to him and you never would. You’re Haechan’s, and Haechan’s only.

Jisung speaks up again, asking in the faintest, meek voice, “Can I touch myself?”

For once it manages to make Haechan pause, and ultimately causes you to whimper by instinct when the rough contact between your skin and his mouth is broken, but the moment is thankfully brief when Haechan shrugs, “Go ahead.” Then he’s continuing again.

At the same time, Jisung manifests every sign of being eager to get his clothes off, desperate to feel some sort of relief that he’s been refused recently. He had planned on breaking that spell, on having you to himself today even if it was only for a while, and honestly couldn’t and wouldn’t have predicted that this would happen. After going without being inside of you for the past couple of days on top of you ghosting him last night (whether you intended to or not), he felt starved of everything he was craving.

Touching himself felt no where as good as being inside you would, and especially after he finally had received the experience to prove it, although it’s better than nothing and he’s accepted that Haechan is likely not going to let him anywhere near your body — not until he’s done playing whatever game he calls this. You would nickname it torment, and so would Jisung.

You’re back to square one soon enough, with Haechan reappearing between your thighs once more, still acting slowly and rather teasingly although not nearly as much as he had the first time around. As you feel his mouth on you, your sounds mix with the ones that Jisung audibly makes as he strokes himself to the sight, practically bouncing off of the walls. “Be quiet,” Haechan whispers momentarily, and you immediately frown. You instantly feel the urge to question why he suddenly has a problem with you making noise, but you figured it would be best to fight against them. If you thought about it, lacking self-control is what landed you in this particular situation in the first place.

In your attempt to hold back any sound, you bite the walls of your cheek. He has you right there on the edge again, at the point where it’s hardest for you to keep quiet, but you manage to comply with his rules. It’s relaxing your body that feels impossible, especially when he’s pushing the right buttons. Your thighs begin to tremble, and your senses feel so heightened that you could almost cry. You’re right there, so close, your orgasm practically in arm’s reach—yet then he torturously snatches it all away once more. This time you do cry, however for an entirely different reason than you anticipated. “Haechan, please let me cum. I’m sorry, I’ll do anything!” you’re past the point of caring that Jisung’s seeing you like this, all capability of feeling embarrassment and shame leaving you as you’re filled to the brim with nothing but denial and want. “Please.”

Swiping his thumb over your eyes, he coos mockingly, “Aw, did you wanna cum? Do you think you deserve it?”

You’re nodding your head impatiently, unable to stop the trail of tears that stream down your cheeks. “I’ve been—I’ve been good, Hyuck. I did everything you told me to do.”

Haechan seemed to debate the decision of his next move in his head, going back and forth with himself a couple of times before ultimately deciding he would he allow you a deal. “Here’s the deal: I’m gonna fuck you, and you better not make a sound unless I tell you to. If you don’t cum by the time that I do, then you won’t cum at all. Got it?”

Again, you nodded fervently, sealing your lips shut in fear of messing up your opportunity to cum before you ever really got the chance if you opened your mouth. Haechan stripped himself of his clothes in what felt like seconds, throwing them onto the floor to be concerned over another time. He had truthfully wanted to be inside you when he saw that video you’d accidentally sent him, just to prove to you that no one could ever make you feel as good as he could. He had a particular motive in not letting Jisung touch you, too. He was punishing not only you, but the both of you, and he wanted Jisung to see that no matter how much you crawled to him, you were Haechan’s. You belonged to him entirely, and he could please you like no other. It wouldn’t matter how good he was because Haechan was better, and with every second that passed, he proved it time and time again, relentlessly.

So when Haechan thrusts inside you, there’s no doubt that Jisung feels jealous. It’s his own fault for messing with someone who didn’t belong to him, but he’s attached to you in a way that he doesn’t think he could be with anybody else.

“Shit, babe,” he slides in easily, both from the fact that you’ve been dangerously aroused since the moment he grabbed you and the fact that he’s edged you twice already.

You had almost whimpered at the feeling of him gliding inside your cunt, but then you remembered the terms of your agreement and settled with digging your teeth into your bottom lip with a force slightly dangerous. In this moment, you’re content. All you had wanted was to be filled and Haechan does so greatly, shoving his girth inside you as though he had been waiting for this moment his whole life. With how much he had been edging you, you never really realized how much his own need was growing.

“Fucking slut,” Haechan growls, watching how eagerly you take him. You look like such a mess, cheeks stained with tears, skin covered in marks, and your body practically shaking in response to the pleasure. “Needed dick so bad you fuck my friend behind my back?”

When you don’t reply, his palm lands on your ass, causing you to barely hold in a moan. “That was a question, baby.”

“I—‘m sorry,” is all you can bring yourself to say. There’s no use in coming up with a better response, you already know there’s no words you could use that would placate him.

“I didn’t fucking ask if you were sorry though, did I?” he smacks your ass once more, and this time you’re unable to contain the loud yelp that tears from between your lips. “And I told you to shut the hell up. But I know you can’t think with nothing but that greedy fucking pussy.”

You’re then distracted by the ever so inviting sounds of Jisung’s moans the second they ripple through the air, instantly shifting your gaze towards him and observing how hot he looks as he gets himself off to this, to you, his hair in front of his face and his lips parted agape. He sounds as beautiful as he looks, eyes squeezing shut in a deepening moan as he strokes himself with his palm. If you were in your full mind, you would have realized that you’re only further proving your boyfriend’s point, however you just can’t help but still want the both of them—together.

Haechan slows his movements until he stops entirely, then grips your chin, slightly rough yet you display no sign of disliking it. In fact, it’s probably worse how much you enjoy him manhandling you. You’re so close to whimpering when he goes still, hardly remaining silent and although he doesn’t mention it, you know he could tell. “Look at me, not him. You’re fucking mine,” he enunciates the single syllable with one sharp, deep thrust. “This pussy is mine,” he repeats the motion again, rocking your body forward and nearly forcing a moan from you, “now tell me who you belong to.”

Weakly, you answer, “Y-you.”

It’s clear that Haechan isn’t moving again until you’ve complied, and he seems unsatisfied by your response. Your thoughts are confirmed when he instead smacks your thigh, resulting in tears to prick your eyes once more.

“Not satisfied. Try again.”

“You, Hyuck, f-fuck,” you sound weakened and broken, attempting to speak through your sobbing, “I’m yours, I belong to you! Only you. N-no one—no one but you.”

That seems to do the trick, because he finally re-starts thrusting into you habitually, temporarily making your vision go black when he strikes a particular, sweet spot. There’s no one word that perfectly captures how he feels inside you, and you wouldn’t even bother to try and think of one. Hell, you’re beyond the point of thinking. You would’ve been embarrassed by how dumb you’d gone at this point, unable to comprehend how loud you’re being and that you’re essentially breaking one of the terms of your deal. Haechan’s in too deep to stop now though, wanting to feel how you perfectly take every inch of him, and instead comes up with a better solution.

“Jisung, come—s-shit—come fuck her throat,” Haechan barely manages to grunt out, his own eyes closing firmly and his moans getting louder with every passing moment. “I know that’ll make a slut like her shut the fuck up.”

At first the command takes him by surprise, though then Jisung’s rushing over to fuck your throat without needing to be told twice. He’s a little unsure if you had even registered the words that left your boyfriend’s mouth, however he can’t find it within him to stop once he slips into your mouth. He can’t stop the moan that tumbles from between his own when he feels your mouth around him, neither, the warm sensation already feeling levels bettet than his palms. It’s then that he realizes you’d never sucked him off before, that it had always been him giving head and you on the receiving end—not that he minded. He loves giving you head and watching the way your body reacts to his touch. However he discovers that he also likes the way your mouth feels.

He’s dreamed about this, and the reality is so much better than the expectations. You’d seemed a little lost when you noticed him in your mouth, but you sucked anyways, assuming Haechan had finally allowed interaction between the both of you and being glad about it. You also feel bad that he had been abandoned on his own for so long, unable to do much but watch, and wanted to please him to the best of your ability. The look on his face is hard to concentrate on when your boyfriend’s simultaneously fucking into you relentlessly, but the glimpses of it that you do manage to catch tell you that you’re most likely doing a great and successful job.

“S-shit, you feel so good,” Jisung moans, practically feeling his whole body tingle.

You’re almost overwhelmed by the feeling of having two dicks in you, although it’s clear as day that he isn’t going to last extremely long, especially considering that he had already been getting himself off beforehand. You listen to his deep groans while simultaneously watching the way Haechan’s face twists and scrunches with pleasure, the three of your sounds—although yours muffled—mixing together as one. 

“G-gonna cu—f-fuck,” Jisung grunts, unable to finish his sentence before he’s filling your mouth with his cum, his eyes firmly closed as he murmurs a set of curses. He pulls away when he’s finished, watching with awe as you swallow as much as you can, and admiring the way you look as whatever you couldn’t take in your mouth dripped down and decorated your chin. 

There’s something about the way you look at him that honestly makes him feel like he could cum again right then, right there. 

Deciding slapping your ass isn’t effective enough, Haechan slaps your cunt to grab your attention, not caring that you whimper from the unexpected impact and almost tempted to do it again because of how sweet you sound. “Focus on me,” he commands, and you comply. “You close?”

Forgetting about what had happened earlier, you simply nod in response, much to his dissatisfaction. 

Haechan slapped your cunt again, “It’s like you never learn, baby. Use your words.”

“Y-yeah, I’m close,” it’s written all over your face, you know he’s only asking for a chance to torment you some more, “can I—can I cum?” 

“S-shit, cum for me babe. You better do it before I do,” he says, reminding you that you wouldn’t be allowed to cum if you didn’t by the time that he had. He’s just as close as you were, moaning needily, his grip on your waist tightening almost bruisingly. His thrusts get deeper yet they aren’t as precise as they were initially. 

Whatever happens in the next couple of moments you don’t process, save for your orgasm and the feeling of Haechan’s cum filling you to the brim, warm and thick. He stops moving eventually, slowing the way he rocks into your hips until he pauses completely. When he pulls out, he watches the way his cum drips from your cunt, unable to hide the proud smile developing on his face. He knows you like it too, recalling vividly all the times you’ve begged for him to cum in you. 

He scoops you into his arms afterwards, kissing your neck gently again, making you giggle when he avoids your mouth for obvious reasons. “You okay? Too rough?”

You shake your head. “I’m good.” He’s never too rough on you.

Jisung clears his throat from beside you, making you both shift your gaze to him. “So, um,” he begins awkwardly, “what now?”

The smirk on Haechan’s face is sinister, and you know whatever he’s thinking in his head can mean zero good, but a part of you is excited for it anyways. “We’re not done here,” he says plainly, then adds, “since you wanted it so bad, do you think you can take two dicks for us, y/n?”

You have no idea, but you guess you were about to find out. 

When you slowly nodded in confirmation, you swear you saw Jisung eyes twinkle a little in excitement. “Can we record it?” 

Haechan shrugs. “Is that okay with you, babe?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you reply, thrilled by the idea. If this was the last time you’d ever be with the two of them at once, then you wanted to be able to remember it vividly, and there was no better way than recording. 

Your boyfriend grabs his phone from the nightstand, grinning a little devilishly. “Are you ready?” When you nodded, he pressed record and immediately brought the camera to your face, still sticky with cum. 

“Smile for the camera, baby.”

[elalfywhore]

we hug now

I have a feeling you got everything you wanted. And you’re wasting time stuck here like me. You’re just thinking it’s a small thing that happened, the world ended when it happened to me.

the years had just seemed to fly by. years spent “protecting my peace”, spending more time on tiktok that socializing and i’m okay with that. my girlfriend made it all worth it. the constant texts besides when she’s practicing, calling me first thing in the morning and right before i fall asleep at night. plus it’s not like i was truly alone, if i really wanted to go hangout with someone, i could.

tonight paige had headed to teds with her team, leaving me to my own devices. while i didn’t mind her going out with them, it always made me feel a little off knowing how i’ve never even been to a bar unless paige was present. i mean, who wouldn’t get those bad thoughts in the back of their head when paige bueckers is your girlfriend.

my saving grace when i always got into these gloomy moods with feelings of impending doom was my photos app. reminiscing on all the fun paige and i have had, how much we love eachother. although our relationship is secret from the public, she always assures me that it’s just until she gets to the wnba.

i always look forward to that, finally getting to be with her again instead of loving her through a phone and tiktok edits. i smile as i come across one of my favorite photos of paige and i. it’s simple and old, no fancy clothes, no makeup, just me and paige. cuddled up under the warm blankets, in our matching grinch pjs from a few years ago. her mom had come in her room to ask us something when she found us like that sleeping; snapping the picture.

i race to read my texts and my phone dings,

pooks; miss u sn

(edited) miss u sm

read 12:58am

i sigh, i can only assume she’s drunk, her locations been there for a little under three hours now. i know she’s probably texting me because she couldn’t call me tonight, trying to make up for it somehow in her drunken haze.

me; miss you too pooks<3

me; r u going home soon?

read 12:59am

pooks; some wine soon

(edited) sometime soon, why baby?

read 12:59am

me; just wondering, im bored

read 1:08am

pooks; i’m sorry babe, my phones gonna die soon. i’ll text you when i get home okay?i love you.

read 1:09am

me; okay, be safe. love you too.

delivered 1:09am

i slump my way out my bed, opting to head to the kitchen to get a snack. quickly heading downstairs, creeping past my parents room i go to the kitchen. grabbing a bag of hot cheetos and a water, i go back upstairs.

snuggling myself back under the covers, i turn on my tv. opening hulu and putting on one of my favorites; bad girls club. i joke sometimes with paige that if they still made this show, i’d be on it.

about 30 minutes in to watching camilla punk the entire house, i decide to check paige’s location. i can’t help but to let out a sigh seeing she’s still at teds and it’s a little past 2. ice had been live earlier, i didn’t want to join and paige know i was watching her.

wanting to see what they were doing i open tiktok, searching up “uconn wbb live”. i click on the first one i see, paige smiling in the camera that ice is holding; clearly drunk and azzi in the background could be heard yelling for paige. i scroll down to the next one, the caption immediately catching my eye “pazzi confirmed?” it reads.

i watch it once, at first it’s normal; ices face in the camera before she tilts the camera to the left and it’s blurry but it looks like paige holding azzi, their faces close enough to be kissing but i can’t tell; but they’re holding eachother like lovers. i feel tears grow in my eyes. i watch the video for what feels like the 100th time, scrolling through all the comments rooting for pazzi.

i put my phone down, feeling a pain grow in my chest and heavy breathing coming on. trying to sob quietly not to wake my parents. i head to my bathroom, not bothering to bring any clothes with me. just trying to calm myself down i turn on the bath water, letting it fill the tub; steam rising from the water helping to clear my now clogged nose.

stripping myself of my clothes and once the tubs full, i slide in; allowing my body to physically relax as my mind races 1000 thoughts a minute.

it’s almost too much for me to comprehend. how could paige do this? why would she do this? did she even do it? while they were extremely close to one another, the bar was packed and the video was fuzzy.

the feeling on impending doom sets in as i realize; had i wasted all of my teen years and young adult hood on someone who didn’t even care? someone who didn’t even want me? she had promised me lots, we’d get married, once she finished at uconn we’d go public and id move in with her. it had all sounded like a dream but was it all a lie? had i ignored all my friends for nothing? sure, i never had any interest in going to college but had i known paige wouldn’t take care of me forever i would’ve figured something out.

i float in the tub before submerging my head under, allowing my hair and face to get wet; just needing the thoughts to stop. when i come back up the thoughts are still there and maybe even amplified. i put my head back under.

the next morning was weird. i had some texts from paige around 3:30am that i hadn’t bothered to respond too but i could tell she hadn’t seen that live clip from them.

while it felt like there was some sort of clock ticking over my head i just felt the urge to get outside and do something. so, i woke up at 8am and went on a walk.

i walk down a path paige and i took a lot in high school, towards our favorite park. it wasn’t far, just about a 15 minute walk to the park but it’s better than rotting in my bed waiting to grow the courage to face whatever truth waited with paige.

i paid more attention to the things around me. the ducks flying above; migrating for winter, the trees bare. i smile as i walk past the bird bath in the park, a single bird drinking from it.

it was quiet, a sunday morning not too many people besides what looked like a few women gathered for a yoga class. i watch the way they all laugh with each other in between the exercise, casual and friendly.

soon enough they all begin to roll up their mats and where i had found myself comfortable on a bench is immediately disrupted as i see one of the women walk my way.

“hi!” the girl exclaims, she looks around my age, a bit taller than me but no where near as tall as paige, tan skin, curly hair, pink two piece set on, feminine. “hi.” i say, it comes out kinda as more of a question. “i saw you watching and was wondering if you’d be interested in joining next time.” her voice slightly high pitched.

okay daya, c’mon, this is your chance to make a friend

i talk myself up in my head. “we’re always looking for new people to join! it’s free! we’re here every sunday at 8am!” i must’ve taken a while to respond as she really tries to sell the point.

“sure! i’ve always wanted to try yoga.” i try and match her friendly tone. “okay, perfect! here let me give you my number.” she smiles and i stand, taking my phone out my back pocket and hand it to her; our hands graze allowing me to feel her soft skin.

i watch her type in her number, a small blush appearing on her cheeks. “i’m paulina by the way.” slight latin accent popping out as she says her name. “i’m daya.” i smile, taking my phone back from her. “i’m gonna head back but, don’t be shy, send me a text.” she smiles showing off her smiley piercing. “okay, i will.” she begins to walk away backwards.

“i’ll see you sunday.” she calls out, “see you sunday!” i call back. “oh and it’s pilates.” she confuses me, “what?” “it’s pilates, daya, not yoga.” she finally turns, walking the right way.

i can’t help but let out a small laugh, forgetting about what’s happening with paige for just a moment. i breath out remembering again; id figure out paige later but for now i’ll worry about sunday.

the pounding headache paige had just woken up with was not helped by banging on her door, “paige! get up right now.” paige instantly recognizes jana’s voice. she looks around at her surrounding, stretching her arms; realizing azzis cuddled into her side, wearing nothing but one of paige’s old shirts. “what?” paige’s voice raspy, still trying to figure out what’s happening as azzi stirs awake.

jana finally pushes open the door, standing in the doorway. “you should probably know there’s a video floating around of you and azzi kissing at the bar last night on tiktok.” jana says matter of factly, the words send jolts through paige immediately making her get up and out the bed. “what the fuck are you talking about?” paige panics, immediately grabbing her phone, a lot of notifications but none from you. she reads the time, 11:47am.

“ice accidentally showed you guys on live last night, just thought you should know so you can figure out what you’re going to tell daya.” jana says before closing the door.

paige sighs out, frustrated. plopping herself back onto the bed with her phone in hand, trying to figure out what she’s gonna tell you. she feels azzi move, coming up behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist, “it can’t be that bad, right?” azzis soft voice whispers, kissing paige’s neck. paige opens tiktok, the video being the first thing on her for you page.

“fuck.” she stomps her foot, tossing her phone down beside her, burying her face in her hands. while it was bad she could say it was a bad angle? pray that works. azzi continues kissing paige’s neck, making paige shrug her off; not in the mood. “i think you needa go, azzi.” paige says sternly. “what? why? because your little girlfriend found out?” azzi scoffs. “azzi, go.” paige finalizes, not wanting to argue. “i’ll text you.” paige says, making azzi scoff again; getting up and throwing on her jeans, gathering her things. paige watches as azzi storms out without a word, slamming the door behind her.

throwing herself back against her mattress, arms spread out paige groans;

what the fuck am i gonna do?

[zepskies]

S.I.N.G.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: Beau wishes you’d take this self-defense lesson a little more seriously.

AN: Here's another one-shot for the Take Me Home series, set a couple of months after A Crime of Passion. Some of you might get the Miss Congeniality reference. 😂

Word Count: 1.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Established relationship. Flirty teasing, tinge of angst and trauma/PTSD, spiciness and a side helping of smut. 

Catch up on TMH: ⤵️

❤️ Take Me Home Masterlist

“All right, let’s try that again,” said Beau.

You barely resisted the urge to whine like a child. Instead, you grabbed your phone off the coffee table, which you’d pushed up against the couch to make space in the living room.

Your boyfriend frowned and swept his hands up in disbelief when you began scrolling on the little screen.

“Uh, hello?” he said. “Trying to teach here, Professor.”

You Google searched for a new restaurant your aunt Denise had told you about recently, and you showed him a snapshot of the menu.

“Wanna try out this new Latin place for lunch? They’ve got empanadas,” you said. “And lots of beef on the menu. Huh, Mr. Carnivore?”   

Beau blew out a subtle breath of exasperation.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna need you to take this a little more seriously,” he said.

You dropped your hand to your side with a tired huff.

“Babe, we’ve been at this for two hours. I’m tired. I’m sweaty. I’m hungry,” you full on whined now, grasping onto the front of his shirt, a gray one you’d accidentally shrunk a little in the wash. What once was loose on him, now stretched tight across his chest and wrapped snugly around his arms. (So all in all, you didn’t feel too bad about it.)

Beau grabbed your hand from his shirt and took your phone from you. He tossed it over onto the couch.

“I just want to go over a few more things,” he said.

“Come on, you’re usually the bottomless pit here. My stomach is going to eat itself,” you protested.

His lips twitched. “You’re being a tad dramatic, don’t you think? Now let’s go. Show me what you’re gonna do when I come at you head on.”

When Beau stepped forward, you mimed bringing the heel of your hand up to his face. He pretended to whip his head back, as if you’d really hit him. Complete with an exaggerated, Jim Carey-level sound effect of pain that almost got you to smile.

“Okay, good,” he nodded afterward. “But what if I grab your arm and get’cha turned around?”

He grasped your wrist next. He slowly twisted you around, until your left arm was behind your back. You sent him a narrowed look over your shoulder.

“I’m gonna break your damn nose for real if we don’t go eat,” you warned.

“Just give me twenty more minutes, and we’ll go. I promise,” he replied, trying to dim his smile. “Now humor me, would you? What’re you gonna do if I got you like this?”

You released a long-suffering sigh.

“Break your stance,” you intoned. You took your sneaker-clad heel and kicked back to tap it on the top of his boot. In reality, you’d be driving your heel into his foot, hard enough to try and break it. He moved his foot back before you could though.

“Nice try. Now what?” he challenged.

You used your free elbow to press into his right side below his ribs—and maybe you dug in a little harder than you needed to. He grunted slightly, but he nodded in approval and released your arm.

“Okay, good. The guy’s probably gonna loosen up enough for you to start running,” he said.

To your annoyance, he didn’t end the lesson there.

“Now, coming at ya from behind,” he said, wrapping his arms more fully around your frame, across your chest and under your breasts. His hold was firm, but not tight enough for you to feel his full strength.

This time, however, your body locked up with a bit of tension. You drew in a sharper breath. You knew you were safe in your boyfriend’s arms, but you had a sudden flash of memory in your mind’s eye.

You felt the phantom of a more threatening grip on your arms, shoving you hard into the side of your car, pressing you into the door with your cheek against the glass.

“Hey, you all right?” Beau prompted. It managed to break you out of your thoughts, and you realized that his hold was looser now. His voice was a touch softer, and his lips pressed to the side of your head, reminding you that it was just him. You were safe.

You squeezed his arms gratefully. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

This was why you’d agreed to these self-defense lessons in the first place. And you knew it wasn’t just for your own benefit. It made Beau feel better too, giving you back some control, and just knowing that you were better prepared.

Working through the trauma of everything you’d gone through in the past six months was an ongoing process; both your kidnapping this past summer, and Casey Sanderson attacking you at the college campus where you worked. You still got uneasy in the parking lot. 

“You sure?” Beau asked. “We can stop now if you need to.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want that flash of memory to be the reason you quit.

“No, let’s finish this,” you said.

After a moment, Beau nodded. His thumb stroked your shoulder before his hold firmed back up.

“Okay, how’re you gonna break my stance?” he asked.

Your lips formed a cheeky smile. You grabbed onto his arm wrapped across your chest and bit him, just firm enough to startle him a little.

“How about I bite your ass,” you teased. Though you soothed over the bite with a kiss, tasting the salty sweat dried on his skin. Beau cleared his throat. You couldn’t see it, but he was smirking.

“Sure. That’s one way to go about it,” he said with a chuckle. “Any other ideas?”

Hmm. You remembered the moves he’d taught you yesterday, but an idea struck you.

“Well, I could always just channel Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality,” you said.

“What?” Beau asked. You could tell, without even seeing his face, that his brows had drawn together in confusion.

“Oh, you don’t remember? It’s simple! S.I.N.G.,” you said, with a growing smile. “Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin…”

With each word, you once again bumped your elbow into his side, playfully stepped on his foot, and reached back to throw a mock elbow into the bridge of his nose. But on the last part of the acronym, you slid your hand down the inside of Beau’s thigh and grasped his length firmly through his activewear pants.

He released a strangled sound and let go of you. His hands instinctively moved to grip your arms tight.

“Very good,” he croaked out, and allowed you to turn around. You slowly rubbed your hand up and down his shaft until it hardened under your palm. Beau stared down at you with a new fire in his eyes, his mouth parting as an aroused groan escaped him.

Giving him a mischievous smile, you lowered to the ground onto your knees, hooking your nails on the waistband of his pants and underwear and taking them down along with you. It was good thinking on his part that you guys placed an exercise mat across the living room floor. It made this more comfortable on your knees, especially when you took almost the full length of his cock into your mouth.

“Aw, fuck,” Beau grunted. His fingers slipped into your hair. He couldn’t help but grip tight as you continued to salivate over him, dragging your soft, wet tongue across his velvety flesh. And you were relentless. Whatever you couldn’t take into your beautiful mouth, you stroked with your hand wrapped around the base.

You pulled your head back for a moment, just so you could tease his sensitive head. He moaned and bucked on reflex, driving himself deeper into your mouth again.

Oh, he was close already. You felt his thighs shaking, his cock throbbing. Your pussy clenched as well, with the memory of how he felt coming inside you. It had you quickening the pace of your lips and tongue drawing his release, and soon he spilled hot inside your mouth. You took and swallowed everything he had to give, sucking him clean.

It was too much. Beau shakily lowered to his knees, almost stumbling down to your level. He grasped your shoulders for balance first. Then he slid his hands down the gentle slope of your back and crushed you to his chest, where he bowed his head to claim you with a kiss.

Now it was his turn to be unrelenting. He hardly let you breathe with his lips moving passionately over yours. 

“Lesson over?” you panted, between kisses.

“Yeah,” he said roughly, though he chuckled. “Thank you, darlin’. You’ve been a model student.”

You smiled against his lips. Beau slid your shirt up and over your head before he laid you down on the mat. His kisses blazed a wet path down your neck and between your breasts, still covered by your satin bra.

“Thought we were going to lunch,” you said breathlessly.

Beau perked his head up and shot you a heated look, despite his grin. He began slowly dragging your tight-ass yoga pants down your hips and thighs, all the way down to your ankles. Your panties came next.   

“Oh, we are,” he said, sliding his hands back up your thighs. “All of a sudden, I’m real hungry.”

His mouth finding its way between your legs soon cut off the rest of your laughter. 

AN: Lol how'd you like that lesson in self-defense? 😘

And want more stories in the TMH-verse? I've missed these two. ❤️

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Take Me Home Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

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[empresskylo]

you wanna kiss me so bad, it makes you look stupid. pt. 1

⊹ simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

[ warnings ] slightly nsfw. reader referred to as 'she' once. wc 979

part 2

cod masterlist

Everyone shows their love differently, you just so happened to show you cared about someone by relentlessly teasing them. And it was so easy with Soap and Gaz. They would give you shit right back and you’d all burst out laughing. But when it came to Ghost—your lieutenant—you couldn’t justify throwing jabs at your superior. You imagined yourself making a joke about him being ugly under his mask and you shuddered. Even the thought of poking fun at him made you uncomfortable.

But as Ghost and Soap grew closer, you overheard their—crude—conversations on comms. And often, it was Johnny saying something stupid and Ghost’s monotone voice mocking him.

“It's dark in here,” Soap had said. 

“Good observation. S’water still wet?” Ghost’s deadpan voice had made you giggle to yourself, careful to make sure you weren’t doing it over comms.

It surprised you when someone like Lt.—a stone-cold killer—could have a sense of humor. And it made you a little more influenced to act snarky, your tongue loosening around him on its own accord.

But for a while, it still managed to make your eyes widen whenever Ghost would say something silly, like when Price was basically on the verge of coming back from the dead, and Soap said, “Was worried your face was gonna melt off like those other poor bastards.” 

You could still hear Ghost’s low voice in your ears. “If you ask me, it’d be an improvement.”

However, after time, you slowly fell into slipping in snides to Ghost alongside Johnny. You hadn’t even realized how often you teased him…

When you came back to the safehouse with Ghost during a mission, you were both soaked. Your clothes dripped water all over the floors, leaving a wet trail behind you. Soap and Gaz were on their way, but you and Ghost had beaten them there. 

You began to shiver, the damp clothing sticking to your skin making it insufferably cold in the room. You dumped your stuff on the half-broken couch, slipping your tactical vest off. You pried your shirt off with several, strained grunts, getting it stuck over your head at one point, and then tossed it to the floor with a plopping sound. You immediately felt warmer having shed the wet material. 

Your eyes flickered up and spotted Ghost. He, too, had stripped his vest off, holding it in his hand. But his eyes were locked on you, unabashedly watching as you had torn your shirt from your chest. You still had a thin tank top on, but you felt far more exposed with his eyes on you than you expected. 

You smirked, not really thinking there was any intention behind his gaze. You walked towards him, wanting to go around and search the rooms for dry clothes, his eyes following you. When you brushed past him, you spoke. “You wanna kiss me so bad, Lt. It makes you look stupid.” You had meant it as a joke. To tease him for watching you—he was probably just spacing off, deep in thought, his eyes inconveniently resting on you.

His arm stretched out, connecting with the wall, making you halt. Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to look up at him. 

“So, what if I do?”

Your lips parted in a bit of shock and embarrassment. That wasn’t the response you had expected. You weren’t even sure what you should say to that. You heard Ghost chuckle, watching as your usual cocky attitude faltered. 

“Not so smart, now, hm?” he teased. 

You tried to shake it off, but the sticky feeling of his pupil-blown eyes staring down at you after taking your joke and throwing it back in your face shrouded your insouciant demeanor.

Did he mean what he said? Or was he just trying to catch you off guard?

Before you were forced to either acknowledge what he said, assuming his words were honest or teasing, Soap and Gaz burst through the door.

Ghost gave you one last wistful look before dropping his arm and moving into the living room. You were left a little dumbfounded, shocked that you were so overwhelmed by his one, little sentence. 

When you turned to meet the boys, Ghost was watching you from behind the couch, stripping his clothes off, his eyes unwavering as they suppressed you with their weight. When he finally tore his shirt off, exposing his bare chest, you had to look away. Your cheeks felt hot as you tried to listen to what Soap was saying to you. 

Soap said your names several times before you blinked and refocused. 

“Sorry, what?” You muttered. Soap raised his brows at you in concern. 

“She’s a bit distracted today,” Ghost chimed in from the corner of the room. 

He had a fresh shirt in hand but had yet to put it to use. You scowled at him. 

When everyone was getting situated several minutes later, Ghost strolled past you before lowering his head to whisper in your ear. You got goosebumps all down your neck and arms. “Not s’fun bein’ on the receiving end, huh?”

You swallowed. “Didn’t know my words bothered you so much, Lt.”

He smirked under his mask, his eyes squinting as he did. “I wouldn't say ‘bothered’. More like…” he pondered for a brief moment, “aroused.”

You choked on your spit, trying to play it off as a cough, then spun on your heels to face him. But you were left with his back, he was already walking away. You knew this should have discouraged you—that you needed to just accept defeat from your lieutenant and not mess with him any further. But, unfortunately, this brief fault in your step didn’t deter you. 

If that’s the game he wanted to play, so be it. And a terrible part of you hoped he wasn’t just trying to make you uncomfortable, but was being truthful.

part 2

[sccrim]

camera man ── drew starkey

ʬʬ . warnings ▧ ▧ unprotected pnv , degrading / praising , creampies , slapping , oral both receiving , pornstar x drew , masturbation , sex tape , hair pulling , bondage , squirting , filming

you ask drew to help you film certain angles you couldn’t get right. drew agreeing just for it to end up in a way you didn’t really expect.

1.4k words. not proof read.

you and drew had been roommates for a while now. it wasn't weird that he was a man and you a woman. it was a mutual agreement that you guys both needed a place to stay. you didn't care if he brought girls home and he didn't care about men you brought. you actually glad you found him as your roommate. he was barley home and when he was— he was in his room.

you never implied that you were a pornstar but he did have the idea you were. he didn't care though. this was the same man who searched your name and jerked himself off to you. the ones he loved the most was when you would pleasure yourself coming to your high. your nipples piercing through your see through bra. the way your legs were opened so they had a better angle of seeing you cum. fuck maybe he did want to fuck the shit out of you and make sure you knew who he was.

drew was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone when he heard your door open. "hey drew, i need a favor." you asked him. "yeah?" he questioned while seeing you in your robe. "can you help me film something really quickly. i can't get the angle right and i want this to be perfect." you softly smiled. you didn't want to ask him but you really wanted this to be good. this was how you were making money.

"yeah sure." he tried to act nonchalant but he knew what was up and he didn't mind at all. at least he got to see you touch yourself in real life then on video. "you probably already know but don't be so alarmed ok?" you closed your room door. "you're good y/n." he chuckled. "okay all i need is for you to film close ups and just whatever you think is good okay? i'll even pay you half of what i make for helping me." you took off your robe. drew eyed your whole body. the way your thong kissed your ass and lips. your red see through bra. "you're good. trust." of course he was fucking happy. he was gonna see you fuck yourself.

you put yourself on your bed and sat up against the headboard. drew nodded his head letting you know it pressed record. you began smiling at the camera and licked your fingers to get your pussy wet. you traveled down slowly while the camera following the trail. you began circling your clit. moaning softly. drew trying not to get hard. you grabbed your dildo and insert it. you moaned again causing drew to show the camera on your face.

you didn't know what was turning you on even more, drew staring at you, his hard ass dick or the feeling of your dildo. you turned your body around. now the camera sees your ass cheeks in the air. you insert the dildo once more causing you to hump it. god, drew wanted to fuck you bad. he wanted the camera to catch everything he did to you. your eyes meeting drew. you smiled and moaned at the same time knowing he was getting turned on. "wanna fuck me?" you finally spoke.

drew just looking at you, not knowing if you were talking to him or for the camera. "hm? wanna fuck the shit out of me." you bit your lip. "show them you can make me fucking cum all over your dick babe." fuck that just turned drew on even fucking more. he was ready and so were you. "turn over." he spoke. you turned your body once more. your body on the edge of the bed. you grabbed your boob causing drew to slap your hand out the way. you touching yourself as drew traveled his fingers across your body.

drew set the camera on your night stand for the perfect angle. he took his shirts off. his dick flopping against his abs. he spit on his hand and began stroking his dick. you couldn't wait for him to fuck the shit out of you. you wanted to see how good he felt. drew tapped his dick on your clit, you could feel the sensation of it causing you to soft moan. "how much you want me to fuck you?" he ask you as he rubbed his thumb on your clit. "really bad."

"sorry what? gotta speak up baby."

"please drew."

"so fucking wet for me. god, so beautiful laying here desperate for my fucking dick."

"be a good fucking slut and face down, ass up." drew turned you over so quick. you were even shocked but you couldn't wait to get pounded. "hands on your back." you listened and placed them behind your back. drew grabbing his belt and turning it into cuffs. "if you want to tap out let me know." he wants you to tap out. he wants to know that you can't take all of it.

drew just slams into you. "fuck." he moaned. "look at you, wet just for me. felt how easy going in was. turn your head to the camera." his fist around your hair making you face the camera. "show them how good i fuck you." your eyes rolling back. man he can fuck. "you feel so good ma." your pussy clinching around his cock. he grabbed your hips and kept thrusting into you. all you hear is your moans and his balls clapping against your ass checks.

"fuck baby, you look so beautiful taking this dick." drew slapped your ass. "i'm gonna cum—" he started to feel your body shake. "that's right, cum all over this dick." thrusting harder as your body came. "i'm not finish with you yet." drew took the belt off of your hands. you turned around and got on your knees. you began jerking him off before licking his thick tip. "be a good bitch and spit on it." he lifted your chin up. you spit on his dick before placing it in your mouth. "fuck, you feel so good."

he leaned his head back. still sucking, you grabbed his balls. all you can hear is drew moaning. he never felt this good before. you were still turned on. man this man was out of this world, you thought. "right there baby." he guided you. he made sure his dick was all in your mouth. the gagging, causing him to moan in pleasure.

"get up."

you followed his command. you laid on your back as he slammed into your throbbing pussy. he placed his hand on your neck, choking you softly— you smiling at him. "how will your fans feel knowing you rather get fucked by me then anyone else? hm?" he placed his thumb in your mouth. you sucking on it slowly causing him to fuck you even harder. "who's pussy is this?"

"yours."

"that's right, and it's gonna fucking stay like that. no one else is gonna fuck you."

man. drew starkey, the man you fucking are. "i'm gonna fucking cum." he moaned out still pounding you faster. "cum for me."

drew's body started to come to his high, his body twitching inside you. you could feel his cum shoot through you. drew trying to catch his breath. you lifted up a little bit with your elbow, touching your pussy, feeling his cum come out if you. drew watched you as you put his cum in your mouth. "such a dirty slut." he kissed you, placing his tongue in your mouth. "we're not finished." you looked at him in confusion. he got on his knees and put your legs over his shoulder.

"i want you to squirt in my mouth."

you laid back down when you felt his tongue on your clit. your hand gripping his hair as you began fucking his face. him moved his hand to grab your boob. this man made you feel things, you haven't felt. yeah you did collabs but it wasn't as amazing as this was. you tried to hold in longer because you loved the feeling of drew eating you out but your body began to shake. drew holding down your hands by your side as he kept the movement going.

"drew- im gonna—" you moaned out. you squirting all over him. you out of breath while drew smiled looking at you so weak. "you taste so good baby." he says leaning in kissing you. you both never thought this day would come that you guys would be doing this together or even kissing each other. but you weren't mad about it at all. you actually loved it. maybe deep down you guys both had feelings for each other.

drew grabbed the camera and stopped recording. he picked you up and put you in the shower. both of you guys showering together. "go on a date with me."

tags . @rissouu @gorysims

 sccrim — all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost , translate , or plagiarise my content.

[3igbootyl0ver]

doctor's in [pt.2]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: When you both couldn't stop thinking about each other, Fate had pushed you both together once again. And this time? Neither of you planned on fighting it.

word count: 4249

a/n: heyyy.......

“Mindy you don’t get it, they were so cute!” Tara groaned, covering her face with her hands to cover up the blush that was forming.

It’s been a week since Tara and her mind has been filled with you since she saw you at the hospital. She couldn’t help but wonder if you felt the same spark between you both. She wasn’t going crazy right? She definitely felt it, unless she was going crazy from the amount of attacks she went through.

“Okay, lovergirl,” Mindy teased, grinning as she nudged Tara’s shoulder. “You barely know them, and you’re already acting like a lovesick puppy.”

Tara groaned again, flopping onto the couch. “I can,’t help it! They were just…ugh, perfect.” “Have you checked if they’re not secretly Ghostface who wants to kill you?” Mindy quipped, watching Tara roll her eyes and ignore the comment

Mindy smirked. “So, what’s the plan? Gonna fake another near-death experience just to see them again?” Tara shot her a glare. “Not funny.” “Then find them,” Mindy said with a shrug. “You have their last name, their workplace, and yet, somehow, it never crossed your mind to look them up? Come on, Tar, get it together.”

Tara blinked. That… wasn’t a bad idea. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She muttered, already reaching for her phone.

Mindy snorted, “Because you’re too busy daydreaming about them like this is some rom-com—where they’ll show up at your doorstep if you think about them hard enough.”

Tara ignored her, already unlocking her phone. Her fingered hovered over the keyboard. Was this weird? What if you don’t remember her?

Mindy sighed dramatically after seeing her hesitation. “Oh my god, just do it. Worst case? Nothing comes up. Best case? You find them, fall madly in love, and live happily ever after.”

Tara rolled her eyes but took a deep breath and typed your last name into the search bar.

———

“Holy shit, they are cute. And here I thought you just had a weird thing for old geezers,” Mindy tease, leaning over to peek at Tara’s phone. “They look way too young to be a doctor, though” 

Tara didn’t respond—mostly because she was too busy staring. Yeah, she was definitely drooling. 

She’d gotten lucky, stumbling across a picture of you on the hospital’s website; It was a group photo, one where you were right beside the nurse that Tara had met before. You were all in your glory, looking effortlessly alluring dressed in a crisp white coat, your hair neatly styled, with intelligent eyes that seemed to see right through the screen. The slight tilt of your head gave you an air of quiet confidence, and the tortoiseshell glasses resting on your nose only added to your charm. 

Tara’s faint smile slowly faded as her eyes landed on the nurse beside you—the same nurse Tara had met; the one that stitched her up.

Her hand was casually wrapped around your arm. Of course, you were taken. Tara let out a quiet sigh, ignoring the pang of disappointment settling in her chest.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, debating whether to keep looking or just close the page altogether. She hated this feeling—the stupid twist in her stomach, the sting of something that felt too much like jealousy for someone she barely knew.

“Whoa, hold up—why do you look like you just got stabbed again?” Mindy asked, finally noticing Tara’s expression. Her teasing tone softened just a little. “What happened?”

Tara hesitated before muttering, “They’re probably dating that nurse.” Mindy glanced at the screen and snorted. “That? Please, that’s not dating. That’s just coworker touchy. You’re seriously overthinking it.”

Tara frowned, her grip tightening on her phone. Could that really be true? Just harmless, casual touching? She wanted to believe it—but the doubt still lingered.

“Anyways, we need to hit the library tomorrow for the project,”Mindy said, stretching. “College is gonna kill us if Ghostface doesn’t get to us first.”

Tara barely registered her words, too caught up in the whirlwind on thoughts of you spinning in her head.

———

“Nice work on the surgery, Y/L/N,” Your chief said, offering a brief but approving smile. “By the way, you’ve got your paper due soon. Don’t forget.”

You nodded, trying to hide the rush of adrenaline still coursing through you from the successful procedure. “Got it, I’ll have it ready,” you replied, but your mind was already spinning between the surgical success and the looming deadline. You’d been chipping away at the paper for weeks, yet there was still so much left to do.

“Guess I’ll have to do another all-nighter then,” You murmured under your breath, stripping off your gloves and beginning to clean up.

As you scrubbed your hands, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling the air, your thoughts drifted to something—or rather, someone—else. The girl you met a few weeks ago. The way she had looked at you, eyes warm and filled with something you couldn’t quite name, had lingered in your mind far longer than you expected. It was ridiculous, really. You barely knew her. And yet, the memory of her smile, the quiet ease of your conversation, had carved its way into your thoughts, slipping in when you least expected it.

Would you ever see her again?

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if that would clear her from your mind. You had too much on your plate to be thinking about someone who was, for all you knew, just a passing moment. Still, as you finished cleaning up and pulled off your scrub cap, you couldn’t quite ignore the way your heart skipped at the thought. 

You scraped through the rest of the day on autopilot, your body moving through the motions while your mind remained elsewhere—split between the surgery, the looming deadline, and the memory of her. The hours blurred together, a constant cycle of rounds, notes, and half-heard conversations. You barely registered the passing faces, too preoccupied to truly engage.

It wasn’t until a firm hand landed on your shoulder that you jolted, your heart lurching in surprise.

“You good?” A familiar voice asked, tinged with amusement.

You turned quickly, exhaling when you saw your colleague—Stacy—watching you with a raised brow. “Didn’t mean to spook you,” she added, though the smirk on her face suggested she wasn’t exactly sorry.

You forced a tired smile. “Yeah, just…a lot on my mind.”

“That is much obvious.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head while eyeing you knowingly. “And let me guess—it’s not just the paper that’s got you looking like a lovesick zombie.”

You blinked, thrown off for a second. “What?”

Your colleague scoffed, shaking her head. “Please. You’ve been spacing out all day, and I know that look.” Stacy smirked. “It’s her, isn’t it? Tara?”

At the sound of her name, you felt warmth creep up your neck. You opened your mouth to deny it, but the knowing glint in her eyes told you it was useless. Instead, you sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“I don’t even know if I’ll ever see her again,” you admitted.

Stacy shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But if she’s got you this distracted, you definitely want to.” She nudged your arm playfully. “So maybe you should do something about it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Like I have time for that.”

“Right, because pulling all-nighters over your paper is such a better use of your time,” She teased, crossing her arms with a smirk.

Rolling your eyes, you redirected the conversation before she could drag you any deeper into this mess. “Oh, by the way, I need you to come with me to the library to work on my paper. And don’t forget—you have one too,” you said, keeping your tone deliberately casual, as if you hadn’t just been caught daydreaming about a patient.

Stacy, of course, saw right through you. She just rolled her eyes, nodding along, but her knowing grin didn’t fade. “Mmm-hmm,” she hummed, clearly entertained. “Look, I’m just saying—if she’s still on your mind after all this time, maybe it’s worth figuring out why.”

You wanted to brush it off, just like you had all day, but her words lingered, sticking in your chest in a way you couldn’t ignore. Maybe she had a point. Maybe this wasn’t just some fleeting thought you could dismiss.

Then, just as you started to shake the feeling away, Stacy added with a sly grin, “Oh, I mayyy have forgotten to mention this, but the little birdie was asking a lot of questions about you when I was fixing her up.”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait, what?”

Stacy grinned wider, clearly enjoying this.

“Stacy!”

“See you at six tomorrow!” Stacy called over her shoulder, her tone far too casual for someone who had just casually detonated a bomb in your brain. She walked off without a care, completely ignoring the way you stood frozen in place, struggling to process what she had just dropped on you.

Your mind raced. Tara was asking about me?

You wanted to demand more details, to chase after Stacy and wring the full story out of her, but your body refused to move. Instead, you stood there, replaying her words on a loop while she disappeared down the hall, acting completely oblivious to your impending mental breakdown.

Great. As if you didn’t already have enough on your plate.

———

Dragging yourself into the library, you exhaled tiredly, already dreading the long night ahead. Stacy, walking beside you, nudged your arm with a smirk.

“See? I showed up. I can be responsible,” she said.

“You showed up to watch me suffer,” you muttered, earning a laugh from her.

You weaved through the aisles, looking for an open table in a quieter corner. The library was busier than expected, with students hunched over laptops and textbooks, the soft hum of whispered conversations filling the air. You finally spotted a table near the back and made your way over, dropping your bag onto the chair. And then—

Thunk.

You flinched as another bag landed in the chair across from you at the exact same time.

Your gaze snapped up, and your breath hitched.

Tara.

She blinked at you, clearly just as startled, her hand still resting on the back of the chair.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Neither of you had expected to see the other, and for a long second, you just… stared.

“What are you—”

“What are you—”

You both started speaking at the same time, then immediately stopped.

“Oh. My. God.” Mindy’s voice broke the silence as she came up behind Tara, amusement practically radiating off her. “Of all the tables in this library… really?”

Stacy, not missing a beat, leaned against your chair with an expression that screamed this is the best thing that’s happened to me all week. “Huh. What are the odds?”

Tara cleared her throat, shifting her weight. “We… just needed a place to study.”

“So did we,” you said, still trying to process the fact that she was standing in front of you.

Mindy grinned. “Well, I don’t see any other free tables, sooo…” She dramatically pulled out the chair beside Tara and plopped down. “Guess we’re all studying together. How convenient.”

You turned to Stacy, who was already sitting down, looking way too entertained. She shot you a wink (which Tara wasn’t pleased about). You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. This was not how you thought your night would go.

But as you stole a glance at Tara—her eyes flicking to yours for a brief second before she quickly focused on pulling out her laptop—you weren’t sure if it was entirely a bad thing.

You couldn’t hear it, but Mindy leaned over Tara’s ear to whisper, “You’re not lying, they look even better in person.” She teased, which earned a glare from the shorter girl.

———

It seemed as if Mindy and Stacy knew exactly what was happening—and, even worse, had silently decided to team up against you.

You weren’t sure how, but the two of them had effortlessly fallen into some kind of unspoken alliance, exchanging glances and barely hiding their smirks as they settled into their seats. Tara cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly as she opened her laptop. You could tell she was just as thrown off as you were, but neither of you had a chance to process it properly before Mindy spoke up.

“So, funny how you two just happened to pick the same table,” she mused, tapping her fingers on the desk. “Like, out of all the places to sit, here? What are the chances?”

Stacy hummed in agreement, resting her chin in her palm. “Crazy, right? Almost like fate is trying to tell you something.”

You shot her a glare. “Don’t start.”

Tara, meanwhile, was already rolling her eyes at Mindy. “It’s literally just a coincidence.” Mindy gasped dramatically. “Is it though? Is it?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Can we just work on our papers?”

“Of course,” Stacy said innocently, pulling out her notes. “Wouldn’t want to distract you.”

“Not at all,” Mindy added. “You two just carry on. Don’t mind us.”

You didn’t trust them for a second. Neither did Tara, if the suspicious glance she threw Mindy was anything to go by.

Still, despite the heat creeping up your neck, and the undeniable energy lingering between you and Tara, you forced yourself to focus on your laptop screen. You were here to study. That was it.

Even if Stacy and Mindy were whispering to each other like middle schoolers passing notes.

Even if Tara was sitting just close enough that you could pick up the faintest scent of her perfume.

Even if your heart definitely shouldn’t have been beating this fast.

Your train of thought was abruptly derailed when Mindy cleared her throat—loudly, as if she were about to propose a business deal.

“Well,” she started, sitting up straighter, “Stacy and I will be going to grab coffee for us.” She stretched dramatically before giving you and Tara a pointed look. “Behave while we’re gone, kids.”

Before you could even respond, she was already standing up, her grin far too smug for your liking. Stacy, ever the enabler, immediately followed her lead, but not before briefly squeezing your hand—a small, reassuring gesture that, under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have thought much about.

But Tara definitely did.

You caught the way her expression shifted—just the smallest flicker of something unreadable in her eyes before she quickly refocused on her laptop, fingers poised over the keyboard as if she were suddenly very interested in typing.

Stacy, who definitely noticed too, smirked as she walked off with Mindy, whispering something that made them both chuckle.

You exhaled, rubbing your temple. “I hate them.” Tara let out a dry chuckle, though she still wasn’t looking at you. “They’re insufferable.”

A pause.

The air between you felt heavier now—charged with something neither of you acknowledged, but both of you felt.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “So… what are you working on?”

Tara finally glanced at you, her lips twitching as if she were fighting back a smirk. “Are we really doing small talk?”

“Well, considering our mutual friends just abandoned us for their little matchmaking scheme, I figured I might as well try to act normal.”

Tara hummed, tilting her head slightly. “And you’re sure Stacy’s not just your girlfriend?”

Your brain short-circuited for a second. “Wait—what?”

Tara shrugged, feigning nonchalance as she focused back on her screen. “Nothing. Just… looked like flirting to me.”

You blinked, still trying to process the fact that she had even said that. And—was that a hint of something else in her tone?

You shook your head, exhaling a laugh. “Stacy? No. Absolutely not.”

Tara raised a skeptical brow but didn’t press further. Still, the fact that she even asked made something flutter in your chest.

“Well, how’s your injuries holding up? Your stitches healing okay?” You asked, genuinely curious, but also trying to find a way to keep the conversation flowing.

Tara gave you a sidelong glance before shrugging. “Yeah, they’re fine. Stacy did a good job.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming. “Oh, so now you’re saying Stacy’s the one to thank for that? I’m hurt, Tara.”

She chuckled, rolling her eyes at you. “Don’t be dramatic. You did your part. And don’t pretend you weren’t already planning on making a joke about my stitches anyway.”

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “What can I say? I’m a professional.”

Tara shot you a skeptical look, but the faintest smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, well, professionals don’t flirt with their patients.”

You gave her a playful shrug, deciding to go for it. “You say flirting, I say charming.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “You’re full of yourself, huh?”

You leaned back, casually adjusting your posture. “Only when I’m in the presence of such impressive company.” Tara couldn’t suppress a smirk this time, but she quickly shook her head, pretending to go back to her work. “You really think you’re smooth, don’t you?”

“Just speaking the truth,” you shot back, a little bolder now. “You’re hard to resist, you know.”

Tara glanced up at you, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.” The playful back-and-forth settled into a comfortable rhythm, neither of you pushing too hard, but both of you enjoying the easy tension building in the air. 

Every time Tara’s eyes flicked to yours or the corner of her mouth quirked up, you couldn’t help but feel like there was something more beneath the surface. “Just for the record,” you added casually, “If I had been the one stitching you up, I would’ve made sure those stitches were extra perfect.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Oh, would you now?”

“Absolutely,” you grinned. “Can’t let a beautiful patient like you go home with anything less than perfect work.”

Tara laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“But I’m charming,” you teased.

Her smile softened as she met your gaze, and for a brief moment, the playful banter was replaced by something warmer. “Yeah, you might be right about that.”

———

The slight banter had toned down once you both were “focusing” on your work. As much as you would’ve liked to keep up the ��flirting’, you really had to get something—anything—done before the night was over.

Tara, on the other hand, was panicking.

Her fingers hovered over her keyboard, occasionally typing a few words just to make it seem like she was working. But in reality, she wasn’t processing a single thing on her screen. Her mind kept replaying the way you’d leaned in, the way your voice had dropped just slightly, the way you’d so effortlessly called her beautiful—like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She barely suppressed a groan, shifting in her seat in frustration.

Get a grip, Carpenter.

“Alright, nerds, we’re back,” she announced, placing a tray of coffee cups on the table. “And we come bearing life-saving caffeine.”

Stacy set down another tray beside her, grinning. “Each of these has at least three shots of espresso. If we crash, we crash together.”

You raised an eyebrow as you grabbed your cup. “So basically, we’re all risking heart palpitations tonight.”

“Exactly,” Mindy said with a smirk, handing Tara her drink. “But hey, maybe some of us need the extra boost. You looked a little distracted over here.”

Tara froze for half a second before glaring at her. “I was working.”

Mindy smirked. “Sure you were.”

You took a sip of your coffee, trying to hide your amused expression as Stacy slid into her seat next to you, nudging your arm. “So,” she whispered low enough that only you could hear, “how was your study date?” You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer, which only made her smirk widen.

Tara, meanwhile, was gripping her cup a little too tightly, her face heating up all over again. She swore she’d get Mindy back for this later.

Tara had to admit it—the whole time you were talking to Stacy about your… doctor stuff, her heart was doing that annoying fluttering thing she couldn’t control.

She wasn’t even following half of what you were saying, something about procedures and techniques that had no business sounding as good as they did coming from your mouth. But there was something about the way you spoke—so confident, so passionate—that made her yearn for more.

The way your lips moved, the occasional smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth when you made a sarcastic remark, the way your eyes lit up when you explained something in detail—Tara was done for.

She hated it.

Well.

She tried to hate it.

But as much as she wanted to focus on literally anything else, all she could think about was how easy it would be to just close the space between you, to press her lips against yours just to see if you tasted as sweet as you sounded.

God, get it together, Carpenter.

She snapped out of it just as Stacy nudged your arm, laughing at something you said. Tara clenched her jaw.

She was definitely not jealous. Not at all.

———

After what felt like an eternity—and far too much caffeine—you finally stretched in your chair, letting out a deep sigh. Your brain was fried, your eyes burned from staring at your screen for so long, but at least you had something to show for it.

“Done,” you muttered, closing your laptop with finality.

Across from you, Tara let out a breath of relief, mirroring your actions. “Thank God.”

Mindy and Stacy, who had been whispering to each other suspiciously for the past twenty minutes after apparently, “needing a break from work”, perked up at the sound.

“Finally!” Mindy groaned, dramatically throwing her head back. “I thought I was gonna die in here.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Tara scoffed, standing up and stretching.

Stacy grinned, nudging you again as she gathered her things. “So, was this the most productive study session you’ve ever had?”

You shot her a glare, but before you could reply, Mindy cut in.

“I don’t know, Stacy. I think our dear friend here got a lot out of it.” She wiggled her eyebrows, looking between you and Tara. “Maybe not just in an academic sense.”

Tara groaned, rubbing her temple. “I hate you.”

Mindy beamed. “I know.”

You sighed, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Are we leaving or are you two just gonna keep being insufferable?”

Stacy looped an arm through yours with a smirk. “Oh, we can do both.”

Tara shook her head, but you caught the way she fought back a smile. As you all stepped out into the cool night air, the exhaustion was undeniable, but so was the warmth lingering from the night’s unexpected turns.

Maybe Stacy and Mindy’s antics weren’t entirely awful.

“It was nice seeing you again, really. I’m glad you healed up well.” You announced, trying to create a conversation after all four of you packed up and left the library. You couldn’t help but notice how both of you slowed down your paced, trying to match each other’s steps without really meaning to.

Tara glanced up at you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her eat. “Yeah… you too.” Her voice softer than before, lacking the usual sarcasm she used as a shield.

You smiled, shoving your hands into your pockets as the cool night air settled around you. “Hopefully next time we see each other, it won’t be because of an injury.”

Tara smirked. “So you’re saying you want to see me again?”

You chuckled, tilting your head slightly. “I mean… I wouldn’t complain.”

She bit her lip, looking away briefly before glancing back at you. “Well, if you ever get tired of pulling all-nighters over medical papers, maybe we could… I don’t know, run into each other somewhere else.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin forming. “Are you asking me out, Carpenter?”

Tara rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she reached for your phone—the one you had been absentmindedly holding—and swiftly typed something before handing it back.

You glanced down at the screen.

A new contact.

Tara :)

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you looked back up at her. “Oh? Giving me your number now? Bold move, Carpenter.”

She shrugged, but the slight flush on her cheeks gave her away. “Just in case, you know… you ever need to run into me again.”

You chuckled, saving the contact without hesitation. “Noted.”

Tara lingered for a second, like she was debating something. Then, with a small smirk of her own, she added, “Don’t keep me waiting too long, doctor.”

You smiled. “Get home safe, Carpenter.”

Tara bit her lip before responding, her voice softer this time. “You too, doctor.”

And with that, she turned and walked toward Mindy, who was very clearly trying to contain her excitement. Stacy nudged you as you stared after her, shaking her head with a knowing grin.

“Don’t say a word,” you muttered as you walked off with her.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Stacy teased. “I don’t need to. That look on your face says everything.”

You just shook your head, unable to stop the small smile forming on your lips.

“Oh, you’re so done for,” she teased.

Maybe you were.

And for once?

You didn’t mind one bit.

———

a/n: i know i said i would posted this like at least a week ago but i was literally sick for the whole week guys lol mb. anyways i do have a few pics planned out, but it's not confirmed when or if I'll ever do it lol since i don't really have much time to write nowadays. ok bye i hoped you liked this fic hehehe

p.s any doctor stuff that's inaccurate don't blame me idk how med school works and stuff; blame google instead :p

[jombies]

rafe cameron, kook kingpin and president of delta kappa, notably was not a man of patience.

as your beloathed companion of a little over two decades, he had showed you over and over just how bad his restlessness could get. at this point, you knew not to expect boiling pots or horses held. it was fine. kinda annoying, sure, but tolerable by large—everyone had their character flaws.

except for when he was bitching in your ear because of it.

“yo, are you fuckin’ done yet? god, feels like i’ve been waiting years. jus’ throw whatever shit y’got in there on so we can go,” he drawled. you threw a manicured middle finger out past the wall between the both of you and received a snort in reply.

“been here forty minutes tops, rafe. i think you’re a big boy who can handle five more.”

a mumble in response: “i think y’should shove it.” you pretended not to hear him.

while you were hard at work tearing your closet apart in search of specific pieces, rafe was uselessly splayed across your bed, sheets rustling as he switched positions for the third time in ten minutes. you filed away a mental reminder to change them once you got home later—he was definitely going to imprint his male manipulator stench on your poor blanket. curse maison francis kurkdjian, you thought, lifting top after top to see what was on the front.

almost an hour of carding through piles of shirts sequined and embellished had your arms aching, though, and you couldn’t ignore the strain anymore. sinking back onto your heels, an executive decision was made to ease up on the heavy lifting; you prodded at a rhinestone astray on the shelf and watched it catch the light.

his voice, provocative as ever, sliced through your metallic haze: “come out here, yeah? w’nna, uh, wanna see what you’re wearing.” 

you took a moment to savor the peace while it had lasted and then leapt into the lion’s den. stepping into his line of sight toe-first, you could feel the air shift. it crackled like a riptide of sparks crashing over your skin. a forewarning of the storm. rafe had sat up, eyes flashing dangerously, attention rapt.

the denim of your skirt hardly covered your cotton-clad crotch, and as you twirled in place to show him the hem detailing, he got a full frontal of your pert ass. in your driven pursuit of a certain camisole, you had forgone a shirt—his gaze dragged over your bare torso, clad in nothing but a bra. jesus christ.

he drew a thin breath through his teeth and slipped off the bed, prowling towards you unhurriedly. you were too busy telling him about tonight’s outfit ambitions to care.

“i was looking for that red qipao top i wore to topper’s last birthday. y’know, the one with the gold pankou knots n’stuff? gonna match that with my yurman stack, it’ll look super cute. i’ll just find some pumps to—”

“hey, shut—shut the fuck up, yeah?”

thus struck the lightning.

not a blink and rafe was right before you, gripping your face with a calloused hand and leaning down to invade your space. his next exhale swept over the slope of your nose. you barely felt it crest before his lips crushed against yours, intense and proprietorial.

those hands dropped down, seizing greedy palmfuls of your ass, cupping the seam of your clothed cunt. every reedy noise he plucked from your throat was swallowed into his maw—you licked across his teeth, sucking on his tongue as it crowded against your palate. a whisper of a touch against the front of his jeans had him groaning low and ragged, and he surrendered your mouth to fish his phone from his pocket.

“wh,” came your breathy inquiry, edging on a whine, “what’re you doing?”

god, he could be so weird sometimes.

tapping hastily at his keyboard, he muttered, “lettin’ the guys know i can’t make it tonight. too busy. gotta handle stuff. veeeery important bureaucratic stuff. shit’d probably fly right over your head if i tried explainin’ it to you.” a whoosh confirmed whatever he was typing had sent, and his phone dropped from his grasp, forgotten.

your brows twisted in thought, but he was herding you to bed with a wandering palm before you could come to any conclusions.

[carmenized-onions]

Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                    Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

 You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “That’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.   

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

[stargirllo]

First oc eurhgeurgheurgh

Warnings? Mentions of violence, prostitution, drugs, uhh yandere behaviors?

I notice that this seems like pineconepie's story and I never intended for that to happen!

implied fem reader but you may ignore it as it is only mentioned once

You were a prostitute, street walker, whore, lady of the night, tramp, the names were endless and you weren't proud of your job..nobody who took part was except the perverted men and women that used your services.

You'd often stay in hotel lobbies during the night if they didn't immediately kick you out. One night, after working for a while you crashed at the Everett hotel, owned by Cedar Everett who apparently was a mafia boss. You couldn't care less, A lobby couch was a lobby couch despite the weird stares from the desk security.

After that night whenever you walked by the desk security always watched you through the window..embarrassing they probably thought you were a weirdo.. Who sleeps in a couch in a lobby? You ignored it most of the time though, too busy to care and too embarrassed to go back to attempt to sleep or try and explain.

a black SUV was parked outside once..very nice car in your humble opinion. The windows so tinted you could barley see through them, though you watched from an alleyway as Cedar Everett climbed out..holy shit! You quickly backed into an alley, not for any reason having to acquaint yourself with the scary man who ran the whole city.

You felt a pair of eyes on you as you walked deeper into the alley, hugging your leather jacket tight and trudging towards another hotel that didn't seem to care if you stayed in the lobby most nights. You looked back and noticed nobody there and shook of the feeling, maybe it was the air.

It'd been two weeks since you'd first seen cedar when things started showing up at hotel room doors if your clients ever got rooms. You were a little confused but the things were nice food, drinks, hair products, not just skimpy pieces of fabric but actual clothing.

Happened every time no matter what hotel you were staying at. You kept them all in a backpack you'd gotten, keeping it close at night to avoid others from stealing your things. Something you'd learned quickly during your first nights.

You'd decided to muscle up and go back to the Everett hotel, it has the nicest couches. You'd slowly walked in as a security guard came up..and oh god were they gonna kick you out? Much to your surprise he handed you a room key "i..have you mistaken me for someone else..?" You asked and he shook his head before stepping back.

Did he feel bad last time..well god that was embarrassing. You slowly walked over to the elevator and punched in the floor number, shifting from foot to foot as you waited and admiring the details of the elevator. Fancy people designed this..not for some street walker like you though.

You stepped out and searched for your room, unlocking it and admiring the sight. This room was huge! You set your bag down carefully and locked the hotel door, running over and collapsing in the cushy bed with a laugh.

Maybe this was the best night of your life in a while. You took some of the food out of your bag after showering and slowly ate some of it, still admiring the room. After a while you felt drowsy, laying down on the bed and falling asleep quickly.

You jolted awake as you heard the door open. You stared in shock at the man who was standing there..Cedar! You slowly crawled back in the bed and stared at the black haired man in a nice blouse and dress pants, diamond stud earrings in his ears and a soft smirk on his face.

"please don't hurt me" you muttered, though loud enough for him to hear apparently as his face turned into a frown. "Oh baby..why would I hurt a little kid?" He asked as he walked closer and you frowned.. Little kid? Excuse him you were a very grown adult.

"Im an adult..I'm literally a prostitute.." You muttered and he frowned even more "A little kid swept into s grown up job..poor thing" he muttered as he walked over and picked you up, not being phased by your flailing.

"it's okay sugar, dads here now" he muttered as he walked out, taking you to the elevator and to the garage for guests, shushing you in the hallways with a "others are sleeping honey, lets be nice" nice your ass this man just kid..abducted you!

He walked over to the same black SUV from weeks ago and climbed in. Well what the hall, your life wasn't gonna get any better but this was definitely making it worse!